DURING a visit to a hospital, some months ago, I found a new occupant in one of the beds―a young Swede, a ship’s carpenter. After a few words respecting his illness, I asked him whether he had the joy of having the good Physician, the Lord Jesus, with him in his sufferings.
“I want to,” he answered earnestly; and there was a wistful look upon his face that made one long to stay and point him to the Saviour, Who surely wants all who want Him. But circumstances prevented my remaining long with him that afternoon, so, after saying two or three words more and giving him a few Swedish tracts, I left him.
Two or three weeks after I found him up, and sitting on the side of his bed. It did not take long to discover that a great change had come over dear Otto A. Instead of the wistful “I want to,” he joyfully exclaimed in his broken English, “I’ve found Yesus; the Lord revealed Himself to me last Tuesday night!” And his face shone with joy as he spoke.
Fearing a little lest he should be resting on a fancied vision or a happy frame of mind, I asked him whether it was any special passage of Scripture that was blessed to him. He rose at once and took out of his locker a large Swedish Bible, and, after turning over the leaves for a moment, he laid his finger on the parable of the Shepherd and the lost sheep in Luke 15. Yes, it was indeed on God’s own Word he was resting, not on anything of self.
And then he told me the story of his life.
His very strong Swedish accent made it at times rather difficult to understand him, but the following was the substance of what he told me. He had been converted to God as a boy of thirteen, and had gone on happily till, at seventeen, he left his Christian home in search of work. Then he got amongst bad companions― “bad friends,” as he called them―who led him astray, and then, he said, “I lost Jesus.”
“But you could not really lose Him,” I suggested, “after He had once found you. Those whom the Lord Jesus saves He saves for ever.”
I was glad to find that the young Swede seemed to realize this; but “I lost Jesus” was only his way of expressing that he had wandered away from his Lord. For years he had been a backslider, till now at last the Good Shepherd had restored the stray sheep, and laid him on His shoulders rejoicing.
From that time forward it was just one continual feast upon the love of God till dear Otto A. was safely landed in the Father’s house above. Not a doubt, not a fear, ever seemed to cross his mind or a murmur his lips. He was indeed an epistle of Christ in that hospital―from nurses and patients alike came the same testimony.
“It was always a pleasure to do anything for him,” said one of the nurses; “he was so patient and grateful. I always got him any little comfort I could―anything to relieve his cough or do him good.”
And only a week or two ago a dear dying man, who has found Christ since Otto’s death, said to me, “I can understand now what poor A. meant when he used to say ‘I’m so happy.’”
More than once, when sitting with Otto A., he said to me: “I’m so happy,” ―not in any excited or demonstrative manner, but in a tone of quiet, heartfelt joy, evidently the work of God’s Holy Spirit.
Once, as we were talking together about the Good Shepherd, I spoke of His loving, watchful care over him all through those years of wandering.
“Yes, He was after me all the time,” he replied, with an earnest look of gratitude to the One who had so loved him.
One day we were talking about a dying fellow-countryman of his―a dear soul who had got into Doubting Castle. Otto used to go in to see him, and talk to him about the Lord.
“I believe he will be saved,” he said, very earnestly.
“I think he is,” I replied; “I believe he came to the Lord Jesus two or three months ago; but the devil has come in since and made him doubt.”
“De devil is a bad man!” Otto answered, energetically. “De Lord Jesus make us happy, and then he come and make us unhappy.”
The expression, “a bad man,” certainly sounds very quaint; but I have often thought since, how well it would be for many more to realize the contrast between the two masters as definitely as did the young Swede.
I wish I could convey to my readers some idea of the holy, childlike joy that shone out in the face of that dying man, and of the simple trusting love and gratitude with which he spoke of his blessed Saviour. I always felt that I had brought away a blessing with me when I had been in Otto A.’s company.
I have just received a letter from a Swedish servant of Christ who used to visit him, and who could of course enjoy more unhindered communion with him, through speaking the same language. He writes as follows:
“He stands out to my recollection as one of the brightest Christians that ever I have met. He was always so happy and rejoicing, and his near prospect of death seemed only to intensify his joy. I am not sure who was blessed the most when we met and talked over God’s wonderful mercy and love, but I felt as if; more than once, he was the giver and I the receiver, under God, of blessing and encouragement.”
One day I heard that dear Otto A. was going to leave the hospital. I went in to say “Goodbye,” feeling greatly grieved at the thought of losing the privilege of visiting him. He seemed rather better in health, and a little disappointed about it.
“I should have liked,” he said― “I should have liked if the Lord would have taken me home from the hospital.” Still, he seemed convinced that all was well, and that the Lord’s way was sure to be the best.
As we parted I begged him to pray for me. He willingly promised to do so, and added: “Pray for me, too; I am very weak.”
I never saw dear Otto A. again. But I heard indirectly that God kept His trusting, dependent child in the same peace and joy till he went to be “with Christ, which is far better.”
I have not much to add. May the simple testimony of the young Swede speak for itself to the heart of any dear reader who feels his sin and his distance, and longs for the nearness, the rest, and the safety of the Shepherd’s shoulder and the Father’s heart.