169
May, 1945
The Whitened Harvest Fields Before leaving the mountains of Kentucky, we stopped at a little town where Sewell Landrum and his wife conduct a mission church for the Brethren Missions Council. These young people are Biola graduates. Sewell had arranged a children’s meeting for Saturday afternoon. An hour before the meeting, we started with an old school bus to gather the children from the out lying districts. As we passed one settlement, Sewell leaned out of the window and shouted, “Yo’all get the youngin’s ready—I’ll be back in about twenty minutes to pick them up.” The children were ready when we returned, and by the time we reached the-beautiful little churqh the bus was full. Together with those who had walked to the meeting, we had about seventy-five boys and girls. Some professed to receive Christ at this meeting. At 2 o’clock next morning Sewell rUshed to my room to tell me that his uncle had been murdered by a “moon shiner” earlier in the night a little way up the creek. Sunday was filled with activities. About one hun dred and thirty-five boys and girls came to the Sunday School. There were less in church, but the majority, of those who attended church were children and young peo ple. This is an encouraging condition. It is almost im possible to get the older people, steeped in the old moun tain religion, to break away from their traditions and live victorious Christian lives. In the afternoon we visited a small Sunday School a few miles away. Sewell had warned, “You are going to get a surprise at this school,” and he was right. We were introduced to a woman who had been a public school teacher. She had one. of our object lesson books, which she had practically worn out. Our suggestions she had greatly improved. Her method of construction was the best we had ever seen. After teaching the lesson, she placed the objects around the walls of the church; thus the truths were often recalled. Later in the afternoon we returned to the mission station. Sewell wanted us to visit his aunt, widow of the murdered man. Not knowing that the killer had been apprehended by the law, and thinking that he might mistake a stranger for a representative of the law, I was somewhat reluctant. Sewell assured me that all would be well. We walked nearly an hour up a creek to reach the mountain home. There we- witnessed the calming power of God’s Word, as it was read aloud, and the in fluence of prayer offered for the bereaved. As we think of the conditions prevailing in this and other parts of our own country, we are reminded of Christ’s attitude toward similar need. “But when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd. Then saith he unto his disciples. The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few; Pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth laborers into his harvest” (Matt. 9:36-38). Dear reader, we trust that with the eyes of your heart you have looked upon this harvest field, and that you will assume your responsibility in respect to it. All can pray; many may give; some may be called to labor in person. When you consider the need of the world for the Gospel of Christ, remember that right in our own land, at our very doorstep, are thousands of children who are totally ignorant of the Word of God. Surely they are the “ forgotten children” of this generation. We need not learn a foreign language or cross an ocean to reach them. God forgive us if we let them die without Christ!
Feeding The Lambs It was our privilege to visit fifteen schools each week, and present Bible truths through the means of visual aids. There was no problem of inattention. The children were mentally alert, eager to learn. A large percentage of the children were underprivileged. In some cases this was due to limited farming conditions. In other instances, miners who made sufficient money had squandered it in gambling and drinking, and so the children were suffering from malnutrition. Many children manifestly came from homes where the very necessities of life were not supplied. A class is in progress. Let us listen in: “Miss-s-s-s Patterson, I have memorized the ten Bible verses you gave us last week—do I get the Gospel of John? I said them to my Mother and Daddy, and they almost learned them, too.” The missionary’s pleasant voice assures this bright faced lad that he will receive his Gospel of John. “Now that you have earned a Gospel of John, wouldn’t it be nice if you started working for a New Testament? You get one free for memorizing twenty-five verses. For one hundred verses you earn a whole Bible. Wouldn’t it be grand to have a new Bible, all your very own? Then, too, if you learn two hundred and thirty verses during the year you will be given a week’s vaca tion, with all expenses paid, at the summer Bible Camp. Isn’t that worth working hard for?” Another little voice pipes up: “But Miss-s-s-s-s Patter son, I have memorized two hundred and thirty verses every year for four years, and never did get to go to the Bible Camp, 'cause my Daddy and Mother won’t let me—they say they need me to help with the crops.” “I know, Mary, and I am very sorry that you have not been able to go.- Even though you should not get to go, you still are ahead, because you have hidden the. Word of God in your heart.” A little hand waves: “Teacher, could I tell what the camp meant to me? I was saved there last year, and gave my life to the Lord Jesus to be used in His service.” The missionary’s influence is not confined to the school children. On the day of the Bible class, adults from miles around the mountain school gather in — mothers with babies in arms, men seventy years old, and young people of high school and college age. Oscar’s Story Before going to Kentucky, we had heard about Oscar, a young man who had memorized hundreds of Bible verses without accepting Christ as his Saviour. He had been beaten many times by his father for attending the Sunday School. Wè hoped to see, him. The mission ary said it was unlikely we should, as he worked many miles away from our district. As we stopped the car in front of Lower Queen’s Creek school, the missionary happily shouted, “There’s Oscar!” Home visiting his family, he had missed the train that morning on his way back to work. Knowing that it was the day for the Bible class, he had come to the school. Not only did he re main at that school, but he went on with us to Middle and Upper Queen’s Creek schools. As we rode along through the' beautiful mountains of ? Kentucky, we talked to him about accepting Christ as his personal Saviour. Finally, he said, “I know God’s‘ plan of salva tion. I have memorized hundreds of verses. I know if I received Christ as my Saviour, I would be saved, but I also know that I could never live at home with my Daddy. I don’t know why my Dad is the way he is, but it would be impossible to live the Christian life and stay home.” It was a sad moment when we said good-bye to Oscar and saw him turn up the “holler” toward his home, realizing that because of his father he had again said “No” to the invitation of Christ.
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