1926
What though he standeth at no earthly altar,
Yet in white raiment on the golden floor,
Where love is perfect and no footsteps falter,
He serveth as a priest for evermore.
―Selected
IN FARAWAY KANSU some new influence is telling. Since Borden passed to the place of higher powers a great change has come over the province to which his life was given, so that far from being what it was, one of the most barren fields in China, it is becoming fruitful. Wonderful things are happening there, right in the midst of that great Mohammedan population, that put to shame our small expectations and little faith.
But the position is critical. That part of China is becoming one of the most charged with high explosive powers in the world. Bolshevism has to be reckoned with there now, as well as Mohammedanism and the most bigoted forms of idolatrous worship. The doors are open still for the most widespread proclamation of the Gospel, and hungry hearts are welcoming the Bread of Life. Men, women—yes, and many children—are coming to the Saviour who never had a chance to hear of Him before. But who can tell how long the doors may remain open?
God needs lives that count. up there in these days―the world needs them, China needs them, Mongolia needs them, Tibet needs them unspeakably, the Moslems of Central Asia need them, waiting in age long darkness.
From many a mosque there comes the call to prayer;
I hear no voice that calls on Christ for light―
But still I wait
For the messenger of Christ who cometh late.
Remote as it is, that province is on the firing line today. It is strategic in the most vital sense. Russia knows this, and is tightening her grasp upon the great highway that runs through Kansu into China. China knows this, and is making her railway and motor road as rapidly as possible, to connect Peking with this imperiled line of communication between her populous provinces and vast outlying dependencies. Islam knows this, and is appropriating every place of power, firmly intrenched already in that western corner of the republic. There is no time to be lost. Already the tension is great, and the few missionaries who are toiling amid wonderful opportunities write of an outlook that could hardly be more serious. Bolshevism is coming in like a flood. Look at that long frontier line of Russia right up against China, north and west, for thousands of miles, and consider what the pressure must be where the one road runs through that is most practicable. This must be the route of the coming railway. Already General Feng’s officers are there putting through the line. Their Christian influence is telling. It was a cheer to see two of them come in to the most remote of all the, little Christian churches out on the great road, to join reverently in the Communion Service not long ago.
The last station in the province at which there are foreign missionaries (men) is away back at Liang-chow, more than two weeks’ journey from the outpost missionary women have reached at Su-chow, the Western Gate of China. The next station beyond, in the heart of Central Asia, is forty days’ journey farther west, and there are no witnesses for Christ (missionaries) between, or northward in Mongolia or southward in Tibet for hundreds and hundreds of miles. The population is not great: no, but it numbers millions. The field is hard in every possible way: yes, it needs lives that count, “steadfast through union with the Anointed One.”
Think of the band of preachers sent out by that last little church to be founded in the far northwest, a church only six years old, but which is evangelizing the whole region with its own unpaid, voluntary workers, men and women. Think of the need of prayer—for them, for their leader, the young Chinese doctor who was used to bring the Light, for the missionaries who are helping them, three ladies all alone. Think of the longing of the heart of Christ over that waiting world of Central Asia in all its darkness, sin and need, and over the Moslems of Kansu itself, three millions, for whom one young missionary has recently been set apart.
Think of him and his wife and little children (boys of three and five years old) in the first Christian home in the crowded Moslem suburb of He-chow, the Mecca of China. And round that little new light center is a population of hundreds of thousands of Moslems, possibly a million, within easy reach. Are not lives that count needed there? Will you by constant, earnest prayer help to make and keep those young missionaries spiritually, mentally, physically efficient? For there are prayers that count as well as lives that count. Will you pray such prayers?
Borden’s life counted because it was rooted in Christ, fed daily upon His Word, was subject to His Spirit, breathed the atmosphere of prayer, was poured out for others.
Each of us can put a fullness of meaning all our own into his simple act of faith (p. 116):
Lord Jesus, I take hands off as far as my life is concerned. I put Thee on the throne in my heart. Change, cleanse, use me as Thou shalt choose. I take the full power of Thy Holy Spirit. I thank Thee.
We too, “may never know a tithe of the result until morning.”