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T H E K I N G ' S B U S I N E S S
SYNOPSIS OF PART I—Satan and men close doors. War, with its in creasing hatred and ferocity, seeks to obliterate o v e r n i g h t the work of Christian missions. But, by God ' s grace, even the wrath of men con tinues to praise Him. For a humble servant of His, God made a path of light across the darkness of Europe. Wa r s aw, Poland, in 1937, was "journey's end" for Karl Faulkner
(Biota '37). There he was to minister to God's chosen people, the Jews, un der the auspices of the American European Fellowship. But with the spring of 1938 the shadow of the swastika was falling across Europe. Suddenly the young missionary had to be left alone in charge of a work among Jews in Warsaw. The clouds of human ani mosity gathered, dnd soon the storm of malignity and race hatred broke. Mr. Faulkner found himself fleeing Poland, stranded on the border be tween Hungary and Czechoslovakia, eventually entering Yugoslavia, and f i n a l l y arriving in Budapest, Hun gary. All along the treacherous path he ministered to fear-stricken Jews. As the world conflagration spread, and the news of Pearl Harbor reached him, Mr. Faulkner found himself an "enemy alien." It is at this point that this month's narrative begins. : Escape from Poland Part II
By KARL FAULKNER as told to ANNE HAZELTON
informed that Bulgaria had declared war on America an hour before! When I reached the Roumanian consul, the same message was given; Rotimariia was at war with America and a visa was refused. Permission to fly tb Yugoslavia needed a German permit. Every way seemed shut tight. The quota for the diplomatic trains was full. There was no 'way out for me. God must intend for me tq witness for Him in a concentration camp, I thought. He gave me a quiet peace and I found that it really did not matter whether I left or stayed, as long as I was in His will. I was fully prepared to accept the thought that I had seen my home for the last time. > Three weeks passed. Then, to my surprise, the United States consul called ’ me in, and I found myself waiting with about forty other Amer icans. We were asked to sign a paper stating that we would take nothing out of the country with us, and then thirteen were chosen from the forty, to be given a place on a special diplo matic train just leaving. I was one of the thirteen. Words cannot express my feelings at that time. Somewhat in a daze, for I had ceased expecting a way out, I boarded the consul’s special train, and in four days, instead of the usual two weeks, we had reached Lisbon. Truly it was a non-stop journey. Traveling second class pullman (I had never traveled that way before), I was filled with thankfulness as the special train sped through Italy, Southern France, Spain, and to Lisbon. Policed all the way, the train stopped only at borders to change police guard.
fTT^HE DARK WATER licked at the bow of the small shjp plowing , .X. along like a huge b l a c k shadow. Overhead, dark clouds ob scured the moon and the cold, distant stars. Dark waters, dark ship, and dark skies. I stood alone on the deck and felt-infinitely small in all that vast space of restless, shadowed water. What was it the Canadian soldier in Jamaica had said to me the day be fore? “You are in good waters,” he had said jokingly. “Only ten ships have been sunk in the last fourteen days!” But I was not afraid. How could I fear when the Lord had said, “ Fear not,” and had led so clearly, this far? I knew; unmistakably, that His best had been mine all along.'Tt was mine now. I thought back over the way He had brought me, marveling that I had been brought all that distance with no mishap, brought through rather than out of terrible experiences—a miracle that only God could do. From even as far back as the days in Poland, my “escape” from Nazi-controlled Europe had been a long-continued, step-by- step procedure, with the Lord’s own gifts of opportunity for service along the way. ; Looking Backward I remembered now that in Hungary In those first confusing days after America’s declaration of war, expect ing concentration camp any moment, I had sought a permit to leave the country. With little difficulty I had secured a visa for Turkey, but when I approached the Bulgarian consul for a permit to cross that country, I was
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