TH E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
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November, ' 1939
little better. But, Danny, where is your slice of pie?” “Oh, I’m just the cOok,” l a u g h e d Danny. “It’s a poor cook that won’t eat his own pie,” said Father. Jimmy stood up. “Well, Danny sure did have a slice,” he said. "Maybe he didn’t put it in, but if anybody ever practiced Thanksgiving, Danny did. He was the one who asked me here. “When I told him I better not come ’cause Thanksgiving was Just for fami lies, he took the Bible and showed me where Jesus said when you make a feast to invite the poor and the lame and those who can’t pay you back; instead of just asking your folks. That’s not all he told me, either. He said that Jesus loved me and died tor the bad things I’ve done. I never thought He would love a boy like me. I never thought I could belong to anybody— least of all anybody like Him. But Danny says I can. And, Missis, I sure want ,to. I’m going to be a Christian.” “God bless you, Jimmy,'' said Mother. “And God bless you, too, little Son.” * * * When the dishes were finally cleared away and the house was in order, Mother stood looking out the kitchen window. Danny passed the door. “Come here, Danny,” she said, and slipped her arm about him. “Do you know I have been thinking I should like a little larger slice of your pie.” “What do you mean, Mother ?” “Just this: How would you like to have Jimmy come to stay with us this winter? What chance is he going to have to grow up as a Christian should unless some one gives him a lift?” Danny gave her a great hug. “Oh, Mother, Mother, I’ve been wishing it all day long,” he said. “You are a peach. But what will Father say?” “I think I cari fix it up with Father,” Mother said, and went to find him. Danny lingered by the window. The night was growing bright with stars, and the little boy’s heart was bngnt with dreams. “Oh God,” he said, “thank You, thank You, for this perfect ending to a real Thanksgiving.” Desbah, whose Christian name was "Grace," was a Navajo Indian girl who had learned to love the Lord Jesus at the Mission school. She went home to a Navajo mud hogan for the summer vacation because she wanted her mother to learn to love her Saviour, too. But when fall came, Desbah’s mother and stepfather took her far into the desert wilderness so that her friends could not find her. Just after she had knelt un der a pinon xtree to ask her heavenly Father for help, Desbah met some white Under the Pinon Tree By F rancis N oble P hair PART II
might not be found by her white friends. She had begged to go back to school, but her mother was not willing and her stepfather wanted to have a "for- get-the-white-man’s-way Sing” over her. But that was a heathen ceremony, and she had said, “No, I am a Christian; you .cannot ‘sing’ over me.” Then, twice, they arranged for her to marry an old heathen man, and twice she had stood up bravely against them all and said, “No, I am a Christian; I will marry only a Christian man.” But she knew she must get away soon. And now, God had answered her prayers and she would go with them. Only, she wanted to be ”ind to her mother. The men spent the night there and the next day. Reluctantly the mother gave her consent, and a happy girl turned her face to the school she had learned to love so dearly. As Grace entered the gate of the little campus, the door burst open, and what a greeting they all gave her! As the children thronged about her, the superintendent w a t c h e d h e r thoughtfully. There was a new light in her eyes, She had trusted God in the darkness, and He had heard her cry. He was her God, whether alone under the desert stars or among fellow Christians. She smiled up at the super intendent in deep content. “It is won derful to know God my Father,” she said softly. Grace still lives today on the Na vajo Reservation, the wife now of a Christian Navajo, the mother of a love ly family of girls and boys, and to gether they give put the glad tidings of the Shepherd who is looking for lost sheep on the hills and plains of Navajo Land. [The End.~\ *All rights reserved. Memory Work: The Christian’s Praise C hristian L ife S eries * Discussion: Discuss (1) the place that praise and thanksgiving should have in one’s life, and (2) why Chris tians of all people should be most thankful and full of praise. Question: When should a Christian “bless the Lord” ? Answer: “I will bless the Lord at,all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth” (Psa. 34:1). Question: Why should a Christian “offer praise” ? Answer: “Whoso offereth praise glorifieth me” (Psa. 50:23). Question: What does God’s Word say is a “good thing to do” ? Answer: “It is a good thing' to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto thy name, O Most High: To show forth thy loving-kindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night” (Psa. 92:1, 2). [List of N ew K. Y>. B. C. Members on Page 444]
men who agreed to mail her letter to the Mission school, where the teachers and children were praying for her re turn. When, the letter arrived, two of the men set out from the school to find her. I T WAS high noon at a trading post in the Black Mountains when two men, a white man and an Indian,» stopped to ask the trader about a girl they called “Grace.” “Yes, many ie.c:rs nave Grace,” the trader said. He had given them to her uncle, who called there, but he had an idea that the girl never saw them. No, he did not know where their hogan was; he never saw the girl—“somewhere off up the mountain,” and he made a vague gesture toward the pine trees that might hide hun dreds of hogans. Wearily now, the men set out to ward Sandy’s Wash. As they crossed' the wash, dry after the Rummer’s heat, they stopped on the farther side and knelt, again asking the Lord to be their Guide, for they knew not t which way to turn. They went northeast, and for a mile and a half the climbing was hard. Suddenly they came out on a little clearing; there was a hogan. A man was sitting in the sun ne.ar the door. Yes, he admitted, there was a girl there who had been to the Mis sion school. He did not know her Christian name. Entering the hogan where a woman yas weaving a beau tiful rug and a young girl partially hidden, behind the loom was busily carding wool, the men looked at each other with expectation written on their faces. They had never seen Grace and therefore could not recognize the girl, but they felt their search was over. After a few minutes of silence, they began the old, old Story of the Lord Jesus and His love. The woman went on with her weaving. When they fin ished, the woman said, “Yes, it was a good story, but it was very hard to understand.” Then they heard the low, eager whisper of the girl, “Oh, no, Mother, it’s not hard to understand.” A thrill of joy shot through their hearts. Surely this was Grace. And truly God worked. They went outside and talked to the man, who proved to be the girl’s stepfather. And although he hated missionaries, he gave permission to them to speak to his daughter. How eagerly Grace poured out the experiences of the past months! Yes, she had sent the letter, for when school time came, her people had moved back in the mountains that she
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