May, 1935
T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
77
junior K ING ’S BUSINESS B y M a r t h a S. H o o k e r
MARIE JEANNE FINDS THE GOOD SHEPHERD A Story o f Belgium B y M rs . J onathan G. W illiams
M a m a , are my tartines ready? I’m nearly starved,” called a lusty young voice, as a healthy-looking girl of some eleven years burst into the room on her return from school. “Just ready, dear. Come and put them on the table,” replied Marie Jeanne’s mother in cheerful tones from the kitchen. . She greeted her daughter lovingly, kissing her three times—once on each cheek and on the lips—then indicated a large plate o f bread and butter sandwiches ready to be placed upon the clean red and white checked cloth which covered the kitchen table. “ Emile will be here any minute now, and he will be even hungrier than you are, dear, but I’m sure that plate o f tartines will last him for a while.” She smiled as she spoke, as though looking forward with pleasure to the sight of her strapping son, now in the higher school or athenee. :i;S“ Oh, mother, such doings I” burst out Marie Jeanne once more, paying no atten tion to her mother’s homely remarks. She placed the well-laden plate of bread and butter sandwiches on the table as she spoke. “I have so much to tell, I don’t know which I want to do most—talk or eat,” she laughed. “ Sit here a moment, dear, and warm your feet. Whiter came late this year, and though it is March, it feels like Decem ber outside, as your red cheeks and nose well show.” Marie Jeanng seated herself beside the invitingly warm kitchen stove. Its spark ling white finish and shining nickel gave an air o f absolute cleanness to the entire room which was at once kitchen, dining room, and living room for the family. [To understand the story about Marie Jeanne, one must know something about the little country, Belgium, where this girl and her family lived. In Belgium, most o f the people belong to a church that teaches that the Bible is not to be read freely by the members in the home, but is to be used only in the church. Although the people are often very faithful in obeying the rules o f the church, they do not have true happiness until they read the Bible for themselves and believe just what it says. When boys and girls read God’s Word and obey it—whether they live in Belgium or in any other country o f the world — their hearts are filled with the joy that the Lord gives. And no matter to what church they belong, they cannot find this joy in any other way. The writer o f this story, with her husband, is a missionary o f the Belgian Gospel Mission. The address is Brussels, Belgium. Can you find the city on your mapt — E d it o r .]
It was not five minutes after Marie Jeanne’s return that the door opened a sec ond time, this time more quietly. Looking up, Mother Dubois’ eyes rested with a lov ing look upon her tall son, Emile. At a
large crowd gathered. Then a clear voice began to speak about Jesus Christ and the Book they call the Bible. He said that if we believe on Jesus Christ as the One who forgives our sins, we can go straight to
glance one could t e l l t h a t this thoughtful - look ing lad was the comfort o f h is mother. A f t e r emb r a c i n g her s on, M a d a m e D u b o i s poured t h r e e cups of coffee from th e l a r g e coffeepot on the stove, and the t h r e e took their accustomed p l a c e s at t h e table. Ma r i e Jeanne, who h a d b e e n thinking de e pl y as she sat by the warm fire, n o w began a g a i n to talk in eager and e x c i t e d tones. “ Such a q u e e r t h i n g happened at school today, Mother. You re member ,1 have s o m e t i m e s
heaven when we die. And he said that we can pray to G o d as we would talk to our father. Mother, I never heard any thing so beauti ful in all my life, and yet, as I left, I could hear peo p le murmuring the same w o r d that the children s p o k e as they m a d e f u n of Marie J e a n n e ’s friend — “ Protes tant,”' E m i l e ’ s s t e a d y v o i c e s h o o k a little, and with surpris ing feeling he said, “ Surely this world has n e e d of s u c h mes s a g e s . W h y should p e o p l e scoff at t h o s e who are kind, and wh o wo u l d
Photo by W illiam Thompson
spoken o f a boy named Jacques, who does not seem like the other boys. Well, now, of course, all the boys and girls of our age are getting ready for their first Commun ion, and their mothers are preparing the most beautiful clothes they can afford. But Jacques has never shown any interest in all this, and today when we met together, he was the only one in all our class who wasn’t there. O f course the children think him very queer, for you know, Mother, how the first Communion is the greatest event o f our childhood.” Marie Jeanne was silent for a moment as she thought of all that it meant in her church when a growing boy or girl was first considered old enough to take part in the service which was to remind them o f the Lord’s death, and which was to admit them to the church. Then, lowering her voice, she con tinued, “They call Jacques a Protestant, and say they are bad people. But I don’t care what they say. He is the nicest boy in our class, always helping those that have a hard time.” She finished her declaration in vehement tones. For a moment there was silence about the little table. Then Emile began in a quieter voice, “Do you know, Mother, Marie Jeanne’s story reminds me o f some thing that I heard the other day. It was in front of the big North Station where I was passing. I heard singing and saw a
bring us a message of peace of heart?” As Emile looked inquiringly at his mother for a reply, he saw that there were tears in her eyes as she answered, “ Chil dren, I have never told you before that my own grandfather whom you resemble so much, Marie Jeanne, belonged to the same Protestants. I have his own well-worn Bible which he treasured above every earthly possession. Would you like to see it, dears ?” Marie Jeanne looked quickly at her mother with an awed expression. “They tell us never to touch that Book, Mother, and anyway we are taught that we could not understand it.” “Many times I have opened that Bible when I was in trouble or sadness,” replied her mother, “and never have I found in it anything but comfort and words o f truth. But you shall see for yourselves. You art old enough to know these things for your, selves. Emile, you may get the old Bool: and you shall read us that beautiful chap ter my grandfather so loved, called the Shepherd’s Psalm.” She told Emile where to look for the treasured volume. Then, after laboriously fingering the pages for a few minutes, Mother Dubois at -last found the Twenty- third Psalm, and Emile began reading in a strong voice, “The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want.”
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