270
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
June 1932
in their place? They’ve— they’ve never been taught,” she went on. The young aviator looked at her soberly. “ I have a scientific friend,” he remarked, “who says that only the pure in heart dare to be disorderly. He says that the rest of us have to have order about us because of our subconscious knowledge of our own inner lack. Some of the most heartless criminals are perfect wizards in pre serving order— ” “ Good for y ou !” said Djemileh, who had come in. “ That makes a good point. You hold a brief for Pansy, I see.” “ O f course,” he replied, “ but I have been thinking of my own inner disorder as well. That is more serious than Pansy’s mistakes.” “ And there’s only one cure,” Djemileh remarked with her customary directness. “ Djemileh means there is a heavenly remedy,” said Althea as the young man dropped onto the piano bench. “ Yes . . . Pansy has told me,” he replied. “ But I can never live the Christian life.” “ Neither can I,” agreed Althea. “ But you— ’’ “ ‘The just shall live by faith.’ That’s the verse I live by,” she told him. “ It’s just moment by moment. I never know from one second to the next what will happen as far as I’m concerned, but I do know what will happen with the Lord if I leave it to Him. Try it for a moment yourself. Try it this moment, please! Will you?” The young man continued to look at her gravely. “ I am trying it, and I believe-—I do believe it’s work ing,” he replied softly. And then he quietly arose, and with out any further word, began to help them set the room in order. . Christianity and Missions hristianity is essentially and fundamentally mission ary. He who reads God’s Word aright sees that the missionary idea is the very essence of the divine revelation. It proclaims this truth with ten thousand tongues of fire. If you could but banish from the gospel the missionary idea, it would never give forth another sound. No sinner would ever again be invited to Christ. No Bible would ever again be printed or circulated except as a money venture. And the whole scheme of Christianity would collapse under the superincumbent weight of an inordinate and all-prevalent selfishness. Missions is not simply an organ of the church, but the church itself is the organ for missions. To this end the church was made— for this cause Christ brought it into the world. The work of missions therefore is not a little optional annex to a church, but it is as essential to the true work of the, church as is the heart essential to the human body. Not only the Well-being but the very being of a church depends upon its fidelity to the one design for which Christ brought it into the world. Self-preservation demands that it shall be missionary. The anti-mission spirit is the death of spiritual development. It is the fruitful parent of cold ness, selfishness, and hardness of heart, and it is the hotbed and breeding place of suspicion, bickerings, malice, heresy, and all uncharitableness. The consequences to a church without the mission spirit are so direful that it be comes a hospital, and unless it is converted, God removes its candlestick, and then it becomes a graveyard. Our only safety is that we give ourselves to the supreme purpose and passion of Christianity.— G eorge W . T ruett .
Heart to Heart with Our Young Readers [Continued from page 267]
the handle of a double boiler that contained a burned mass o f some sort. Having secured this needed accessory, Djemileh hastily returned to the now cooled dishes and soon dried them all. In the meantime, Marguerite had made known to Althea the depths of her woe. Item one: Pansy was ill with flu. Item two: A letter had come from Aunt Mary, who, during her stay in an eastern city, had gotten into dif ficulties by offering to hold a young mother’s, baby in the railroad station. She had been promptly reported to the authorities as a suspicious person, if not a kidnapper, so she, Marguerite, had had to send several telegrams to: straighten this out. Item three: The “ steady young man” wished to call and inquire for Pansy, and the living room was a per fect sight. lthea walked into this room. It was fearfully close, and some papers and books needed straightening. This done, she observed that Mr. Wu’s oiled duster had been used to wipe up some water and left in a moist condition on the piano. Dust— it was everywhere! Was it cosmic dust, she wondered as she worked ? She opened the door to let in the sweet evening air, and as she did so, paused to look up at the beautiful cosmic order of the heavens. Order was heaven’s first law ! All her young life, Althea had loved the punctual stars and wondered, as a child, if they never grew tired of their nightly march. Was it drudgery for each of them to be always in its fixed place, always proceeding according to the great fixations of the universe ? Certainly it was hard and difficult sometimes, down on this whirling bit o f earth-dust, to be punctual and orderly, so she re flected now. Pansy and Marguerite were examples. And was God teaching some of His little ones a great lesson for all eternity, in teaching them order and law? She herself had scarcely learned it— there was that top drawer in her desk. She shrugged a trifle uncomfortably. This very night, if it kept her up until midnight— Some one walked briskly up to the open door. And the sleek head of the steady young man was bared'before her. Oh, this was Pansy’s interesting aviator. “ She is better but still feverish,” said Althea in re sponse to his inquiry. “ And you are the famous Miss Sumner ?” he was say ing with a delightful smile. “ Am I famous ?” she asked, smiling also. “ Well, as long as it isn’t infamous!” “ Pansy is different since— ” Althea interrupted him. “ Don’t sit in that chair, I haven’t dusted it.” The young man looked with real aversion at the depths from which he had been rescued, and then, for the first time, he seemed to see the desolation of the room. “ Oh, dear! He’s disgusted,” thought Althea in dismay. He’s evidently one of those model creatures who keep their handkerchiefs in orderly piles and wear their socks in the same orderly succession, the one pair after the other every week! Poor Pansy!” Althea flew about dusting madly as she talked. “ You see the girls are without help. Mr. Wu has been in a smash-up, and Pansy is ill.” As she talked, order and cleanliness began to emerge. “We must not judge— I mean we must not be critical. Should we, any of us, do as well
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