“Hallo, soldier! Have a tract?”
It was not a happy face that looked up at my call. Joaquim Portilho was sitting on the doorstep of the guardroom at the prison of an island village called Catalao. Like most Brazilian soldiers I have had to do with, he respectfully accepted the gospel leaflet I proffered; and this proved to be the first step toward his salvation.
The seed took root at once and Joaquim appeared a most promising enquirer. He could read, and soon became deeply convinced of the truth. He gave up his drink and tobacco, and testified publicly at the gospel meetings which were being held nightly hard by the prison itself. His wife became converted soon after, but she never gave up the tobacco. Not very long after, Joaquim’s vocation as a soldier took him far away with a detachment of troops to a place in the interior, still more remote.
Apart from the gospel teaching and fellowship, and surrounded by godless influences, his faith began to weaken; and soon some of his old habits reasserted themselves, so that he became bound again in the subtle chains of Satan. Smoking was the first step downward, then in rapid succession one thing after another dragged him lower until he was in a more degraded condition than he had ever been. Yet he quite realized what was transpiring, and he made occasional efforts to break away. Then striving to stifle all the grave warnings and teachings he had received, he filled up the measure of his iniquities by joining the Spiritists when invited by a friend.
At the first seance he sat with others, pencil in hand. Suddenly, to his fright, his hand became violently agitated, and he began to write under some unseen influence. So great was the power over him that the others at once declared him to be a medium of remarkable promise. Although exalted by this discovery, Joaquim had a hidden feeling of fear, particularly when strange, uncanny manifestations took place in his own house; and he prayed to God that if this thing were not from Him, He would deliver him.
At the next seance a few nights later, a medium under spirit influence quoted a warning from Scripture, and abruptly closed the session which had only lasted five minutes. This extraordinary turn of affairs only increased Joaquim’s fears, but what impressed him was that from that hour the spirits had no more power over him. When inquiry was made of them, the reply was that as the man still retained some vestige of a past belief, he could not be a medium.
One reason why Joaquim had still some flickering faith left was to be found in the fact that he never parted with his Bible, and that he occasionally referred to its inspired pages. Meanwhile, he had ceased to be a soldier, and had hard work to support his family. He grew despairing over his squalid home, which was daily the scene of acute quarrels. He opened a drink saloon, and Satan prospered him, but his wife became a drunkard. Family discord increased, and blows were common. Yet with it all he never could forget the past. In his heart he sided with the gospel against himself, and sometimes prayed to God for help.
Two verses often recurred to Joaquim. One was, “He that is not against us, is on our side” (Mark 9:4040For he that is not against us is on our part. (Mark 9:40)), and his idea was that he could not be utterly rejected, seeing that in his better moments he still believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ. The other passage was, “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out;” and to these in his sin and misery, he yet desperately clung.
Things went from bad to worse. Joaquim kept a gambling and dancing house, and made plenty of money; but worst of all, perhaps, he was instrumental in leading others to Spiritism, even when he himself most distrusted it.
Suddenly, without any apparent reason, he yielded to a strong impulse to move away, that he might seek in some other place to lead a better life. He purchased two mules and a small ox-cart, and, packing his belongings and taking his family with him, he trudged his way on foot a distance of two hundred miles to Goyaz, arriving but a few weeks before I entered it myself, after a long absence.
It was now nearly six years since I had last seen Joaquim. I had at first occasionally heard fragmentary news of him—it was generally bad news; but for several years he had completely dropped out of my sight, and I had almost forgotten him, except, perhaps, as merely one in the great army of hardened backsliders.
I was again riding into the Capital of Goyaz, after an absence of nearly four years. As I rode down the central street, scanning with pleasure the old familiar scenes of past endeavor, and noting here and there a well-remembered face, my eyes lighted on a wretched scarecrow of a man, selling water in the street for a living; and in that haggard, unkempt, unhappy looking individual, I recognized Joaquim Portilho, making a first step towards an honorable existence. Our eyes met, and he looked ashamed. Though I only saluted him by name as I rode by, my heart went out to him at once; and a day or two later I found him, very broken in spirit, and very eager for reconciliation.
God began to work at once for his restoration. Soon after, in one of our gospel meetings, he made public confession of his sin, when godly sorrow and penitence were seen mingled with the joy of renewed life.
Joaquim was then a changed man; and with his whole heart and soul he craved some opportunity to prove his love and gratitude for so great a Savior. He desired to return to those places where he so fully served the devil, in order to demonstrate by his life and testimony what God had done for him; and God has given him some remarkable opportunities in this respect.
—“Adventures with the Bible in Brazil.”
* * * * *
“Out of my shameful failure and loss,
Jesus, I come! Jesus, I come!
Into the glorious gain of Thy Cross,
Jesus, I come to Thee!
`Out of earth’s sorrows into Thy balm,
Out of life’s storm and into Thy calm,
Out of distress to jubilant psalm
Jesus, I come to Thee!
Out of unrest and arrogant pride,
Jesus, I come! Jesus, I come!
Into Thy blessed will to abide,
Jesus, I come to Thee!
Out of myself to dwell in Thy love,
Out of despair into raptures above,
Upward for aye on wings like a dove,
Jesus, I come to Thee!”