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T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
November, 1936
Thanksgiving Day in Nicaragua B y G race H ooper T h a n k s g iv in g d a y was coming! Many hundreds of miles south of the United States, in the little Mis sion compound in the seaport town of Bluefields, Nicaragua, all of the Christians were looking forward eagerly to the happy time when they would celebrate around tables laden with good things and would give special thanks to God for His many blessings to them. The native Christians would thank God especially for sending the missionaries to Central America with the good news of salvation through the Lord Jesus Christ. At the Mission station, the father, the mother, and their four children whose ages were from six to twelve years, also were thinking joyfully about Thanksgiving Day, although the supplies on their shelves were very low. The Lord had wonder fully met their needs in the past—ever since they had left “the States” in answer to God’s call to Central America. Surely He would not forsake them now! But when the ships bringing mail from the States docked at Bluefields, they bore no mail or gifts for this little missionary family, who continued to trust in their heavenly Father and to look to Him for the supplying of their needs. Of course, every day found the meager amount of food growing less and less. At last the very day arrived—Thanks giving Day. There were no preparations being made in the little Mission home for a big Thanksgiving dinner, for the sup plies were so low by this time that there was very little to prepare. However, the hearts of the missionary family were full of thanksgiving as they spread, as usual, the table out on the porch shaded by the cool vines. There was really nothing to put on the table but tea and breadfruit, a kind of fruit that grows in Central America. Thus the little family gathered about the table and, as was their custom, bowed their heads to thank God for His many and wondrous blessings to them. As they lifted their heads from prayer, what do you think greeted their eyes? There standing before them near the table was a brown faced boy, holding on his head a huge platter heaped up with turkey and vege tables and other good things! These gifts had been sent by a native Christian whom the Lord had used to answer the prayers of His children. The group about the table had not heard this boy come up the stone steps and on the porch, for he was barefooted. He had quietly stood there during the prayer, too, and thus when he was discovered with his good gifts, the surprise was all the greater. The table was soon laden with a real Thanksgiving dinner, prepared by loving hands and hearts. The missionary family again gathered about the table and again bowed their heads, offering praise and thanksgiving to God who had met their need at exactly the right time. Do you think they ever forgot that Thanksgiving Day? [Department continued on page 446]
GRACE AT TABLE Dear Lord, we thank Thee for this food; W e pray Thee, bless it to our good; And help us live Thy name to praise, In all we do, through all our days. — SELECTED.
Tom fumbled in his pocket for the locket and laid it on the silver tray the old man held in his hand—he was too tired, too confused, too miserable to speak. Suspicion and hospitality struggled in the old servant’s face. Suspicion left the stranger standing outside the door; hos pitality left the door open while the old man stiffly climbed the broad staircase. Sick at heart, Tom strained his ears to listen. Doors opened and closed; there was a murmur of voices, a quick, sharp exclama tion and the sound of running feet. Down the broad old stair rushed the son and heir of the Worthington plantations. With a boyish shout, “My Buddy’s come, my Buddy’s come!” Dick’s arm was flung around Tom’s shoulders, and then in an instant seeing his friend’s pale face and evident weakness, he linked his arm in Tom’s and led him into the great hall. Afterwards Tom marveled that so much could happen in one hour as took place in the one that followed. There was the warm greeting from the stately old Colonel who Welcomed the stranger as though he were a long-lost son, it seemed to the lonely boy; there was a quickly prepared meal that brought new strength to the tired body, and then, dressed in some of Dick’s clothes, with the wonderful sense of clean, fresh newness—newness of . every thing, of life itself—Tom was led by Dick to the place of honor at his side in the reception line. For Tom had arrived the night of all nights in Dick’s life. All the countryside was celebrating the turning over of the great plantations by the old Colonel to his greatly beloved and only son. Dick had always been a favorite and had so nearly lost his life from wounds in the World War and the long sickness from which he had but recently recovered, that it seemed to his friends he had almost been brought back to them from the dead. And all that evening, friends and neighbors, tenants and servants, poured through the beautiful rooms of the old mansion and mingled in happy fellowship, filled with the joy of having “young Massa Dick” come into his heritage. Dick kept Tom constantly at his side, and to all who came to offer their good wishes, Dick introduced him as the friend who was like a brother and would share all that was his. And every one grasped Tom’s hand with the same warm cordial friendliness they showed to Dick. But it
was all so strange to Tom. He could not feel at ease. The beautiful home, the handsome men and lovely women with their gracious ways, the sparkle of jewels, and rustle of silks, the mingling of music, laughter, and kind words, all gave him the feeling he was in a new world in which he had no part. ■ “I don’t belong; I don’t belong,” his heart seemed to say with every throb. He turned impulsively to Dick, but Dick was talking earnestly with his father’s best friend, fine old Judge Calhoun: “You see, Judge,” he was saying, “Tom left the camp when he was safe and comfortable and chose to spend the night with me in the dark and cold—Judge, I think I wouldn’t be alive today if he hadn’t—-you see he belongs here.” Tom’s heart beat fast with sudden joy. Yes, what Dick was saying was the truth! The beautiful scene around him seemed to fade away, and Tom felt him self again in the dark, the biting cold, the misery of that night on the battlefield. He had chosen to suffer, to die if need be, for his friend; it was his right to share his triumph and joy, now. From that moment Tom entered joyously and fully into his- new comradeship with his friend. He shared his responsibilities and pleasures and the confidence of those who loved and depended upon Dick. * * * Girls and boys, this is just a little pic ture of what it will mean for us to come into the presence of the Lord Jesus in heaven if we have chosen Him as our Saviour and Lord here where the world forgets and rejects Him. We will share His riches, for He says in His Word of those who believe on Him: “Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ” (Gal. 4:7). Do you not think that Tom felt wonderfully repaid by the years and years of happiness for the one night of suffering ? Just so, everything of our own will or pleasure that we can give up here for the Lord Jesus will seem Jike so little, really nothing, in comparison with the wonderful joy and fellowship we will have with Him forever. He has promised to honor us as His own before His Father, and the angels, and before the whole world. We can scarcely imagine how glorious that will be. If you have never done so, will you not receive Him as your Saviour today?
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