534
T h e
K i n g ' s
B u s i n e s s
November 1929
who has known his Paris, his Vienna, and his Monte Carlo. “In Athens, where I grew to manhood, one never met a man who knew Christ. I hated and avoided churches. I longed for something—I sought it in beauty. It was not there. In pleasure—and there it was not. In excitement, and then in adventure! I summered in Cyprus and found unrest, then went to Africa. I had gold of my own and fell in with the ivory traders. For a while this filled my thought, and I fraternized with the young French officers and lived au prince. It was when the pleasure in this began to wane that the veriest saint of God came by, one day, on nothing less than a bicycle—for it is so that they travel in Africa, these dear saints. He was ill. He fainted. ’^My man carried him inside. In his fever he talked always with Someone. Who was it ? we wondered. And then w#ypalized that he talked with God and all the loving, tender confidences that he poured out to Him made our eyfe's 'wet—hardened sinners though we were. The man walked with God, and his unconscious utterances showed it. Lgrew to love him, first as the child for whom I must care, then as the first real friend I had ever met. And before I knew it I was won—I had lost my heart to the One whom he was like—the One who looked upon the rich young ruler long ago. And so I obeyed when I heard Him say, ‘Leave all and follow me.’ ” Douglas bowed a little stiffly and looked towards his sister. He was about to ask when dinner was to be served, when the third youth spoke. His face was dark-skinned. His accent was heavy upon the consonants. It is often so when sons of India struggle with the strange tongue of the West. “I speak because I ’must. I cannot be silent while others praise my Saviour. I was lost—alone—lonely. In my youth we were poor—a despised caste! I did not know it was possible for children ever to be so happy as I have seen them in your country. But one day as I was growing older the Light shone upon me. A man came to my village. He was barefoot and he wore the saffron robe of our sadhus. But as soon as I had seen his face I knew! This -man had found the-ultimate! Unassailable, inward jo y ! He was poor, he was a wanderer, but joy emanated from him. It enveloped him like an aura. We pay homage in India to a man who has achieved things spiritually.” i’ Douglas winced a trifle. He knew that Margaret’s side had scored there, .He..felt that he himself had failed to give homage where homage was due. This young Indian, like the others, did not wait to find out if Douglas ap proved . He continued: “Soon all the village;people gathered around to hear him, I among them. He told of a new God—there are many in India, but he claimed great things for one Jesus who had died for our sins and through whom he had found shanti, which means peace and joy and more than I can tell in English. While he was speaking I realized that a great flood of light was pouring into my soul. I was lost in it—or rather found in it, for I was found of Christ and saved.” In the little pause that followed, every Christian heart was waging a prayer battle against the powers of dark ness that seemed to have tightened their grip right in the face of the testimony, of the Lord, upon this young brother of their friend Margaret. They all felt the ten sion. Douglas was stiffer than ever, and a little pale. When he spoke, the smile that played around his mouth was closely related to the sneer.
“I congratulate you—all of you young men,” he said with the little drawl that he could use on occasion. “You seem to be perfectly satisfied with the universe and your own opinions—and yourselves!” Margaret said afterwards she never had prayed so hard in her life. For a moment none spoke, then to the astonishment of them all, it was Djemileh who broke the silence. Her words were as crisp and quick as the break ing of dry twigs. “And I do not congratulate you, Mr.—er—Douglas, is it not? Yes! You have the all-great, all-powerful atti tude of young America. They always do thus:—they always seem to be saying, ‘See! We have all! And it has been won for us by ancestors who knew God, and suffered for Him, and we—-we are entered into the re ward of their labors. W e celebrate this Thanksgiving Day and for this we will give nothing. No! Not so much as one little bit of sacrifice. The best is none too good for us. We will take and take and give nothing back to a world that could be saved and won by our glorious young endeavor. We will applaud the movie stars and teach our young men friends to sneer at the testimony of God’s people.’ Is it not what your girls are saying in their hearts?” Douglas thought of Althea and admitted that there was some truth in this. Djemileh was gaining momentum. She was entirely unafraid, partly because she had never been used to fear, perhaps. “Now look at us—we who are here in the dress of another land. We represent three races, but there are hundreds of others like us. And you! You young Amer icans who are outside of this great suffering fraternity of the other young people round the world today, we warn you! W e will take from you your glorious heritage of giving Christ to the world if you do not take care. Our ranks are forming and soon the drums will be beating and we shall be on the march, following the Captain of our salvation. Oh, yes! We realize that there are those among you who are with us, but they are few—too f ew! And most of you are not awake. “In this city there are already many. One, a Jew from Poland, who was persecuted and then found the Lord. Two, a young Armenian. Ah! What scars for so young a man to bear upon his body! Yet he knows and serves' Christ. Three, a Chinese slave girl—rescued and won to Christ by a real American Christian. She longs to win souls to Christ. And these are only a few of those I might name. Now can you tell me what is the matter ? In a nation which we expected to find a nation of heroes 1 why are there not more to say'‘Lord, I will’ to our great, our crucified and risen Commander?” Was,another fearful silence going to fall? wondered Margaret, praying as she wondered. But Douglas, smil ing a little, twisted smile that was peculiarly his, was speaking: “Margaret, we are glad to have. these—these dear friends here, and as I see dinner is announced may I have the honor of leading this modern Deborah by whom I have been so justly rebuked, to the feast?” They passed in to dinner almost silently. But there were father and mother so smiling, so genial, so happy in thinking that they were happy, that they arose to the occasion by common consent and discussed athletics and colleges, as they ate turkey and cranberry sauce, in the most convincing manner. (Continued on page 563)
Made with FlippingBook HTML5