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February, 1944
The Chaplain’s Spiritual Tonic One day a Marine who had seen ac tive service in the Solomons came in to see me. It was obvious he was deeply burdened about something. He soon confided the cause of his depres sion—trouble back home. He had al ready had a furlough, and was un able to clear up the difficulty by cor respondence. I soon observed, however, that the chief cause of his trouble was not at home, but rather with himself. Very cautiously I pointed out to him the
scientious objector. Upon questioning him, I discovered he had volunteered for the Marines. When I talked to him about his home and family back ground, the lad began to cry. He had been in “ boot” camp for two weeks, and had received no letters whatever from home. He was not a conscien tious objector, but just a homesick boy. In this respect he was by no means alóne; there are many others just like him. I directed the conver sation toward spiritual things, and pressed the matter of his personal re lationship with Jesus Christ. Thè boy did not make a decision then, but both he and the Sergeant, who had heard the entire conversation, left with something to think about I believe both were close to the kingdom. Passing the Word Along . Often we wonder how much of an impression our sermons make upon the men. One Sunday, I preached on “Bread.” To make the message simple and visual, I brought two loaves with me to the pulpit. One was an appetiz ing golden brown loaf made in our own bakery; the other was a special loaf from. Which the yeast had been omitted. The gist of my message was along this line: The second loaf has
platoon a better Marine, for now he could say, “ Jesus holds niy hand.” Another day a young’ fellow came in and said, “Do you remember me, Chaplain?” I looked at him and had to confess I did not know him. He said, “A few weeks ago I was in the base prison. After one of your services, I accepted Christ as my Saviour. A Jew ish boy sat beside me and he took the Lord, too.” This young Marine wanted me to dedicate his baby to Christ, and he himself is interested in studying, later, for the ministry.
W. Macomber
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For a while I had a group of men meeting with me once a week for fellowship, prayer, and Bible study. Two of these Marines were “ hard boiled” drill instructors, but they used every opportunity to witness for Christ. During the rest periods they would sometimes lead a discussion on the Bible. One of the men would have the fellows of his platoon bow their heads while he led in prayer on the parade ground. I believe this takes more real courage and man hood than it does to face enemy fire. When Christ holds a man’s hand, he has strength and the inner resource that wins. God said, to Joshua long ago, “Be thou strong and very cour ageous,” and our day likewise de mands strong men. Only in Christ and His Word can we find power to meet these demands. But “ ail power” is there obtainable. Recently a Marine came in who was leaving on a seventy-two-hour liberty. He was going to Los Angeles, and he asked me whether I knew some place where he could go and study the Bible. I gave him the address of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles, and away went a leatherneck—not to ca rouse in taverns and saloons, but to seek a place where he could have fellowship with Christians and the Word. His testimony was: “Jesus is my keeper From day to day.”
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all the ingredients of the first, except one thing—yeast. The omission, how ever, of just one thing should not make much difference! But when you look at the bread you see a great difference indeed. Many think they can livh their lives without the Lord, but the absence of Him makes all the difference in the world. I concluded by showing that Christ is the Bread of Life, and that we all need Him. ■ [Continued on Page 78]
beam that was in his own eye. Once this was removed, he no longer saw the mote in the other person. Before he; left, he received Jesus Christ as his Saviour. The burden he had bprne was now carried by Another. In his heart he had a new song:
“The road may be long, But my Saviour is strong, And He holds my hand.”
An eighteen-year-old Southern boy was brought inter my office by his First Sergeant. The boy was a con-
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