CHIEF among the enjoyments of school and college days were the vacations in Switzerland, when Fraser and his cousin, Aleck Bourne, went off on walking tours together. They were perfectly matched as to age and tastes, and still the busy doctor in Wimpole Street recalls the thrill with which they set their faces toward the snowy heights. ‘There can have been few such close and enjoyable friendships,’ he writes, ‘as that between Jim and me.’ And they were in the first flush of youth, when
The year’s at the spring
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hillside’s dew-pearled;’
and it is easy to say and feel
God’s in His heaven―
All’s right with the world!’
Together they tramped the passes, explored the glaciers, climbed glorious peaks and sailed the tranquil lakes—taking photographs, meeting with adventures and drinking in health and happiness.
But there was more than this. The mountains appealed to something in Fraser that he hardly knew was there―a love of solitude, and instinctive response to the high, the difficult, the forbiddingly inviting. His inward attitude was the very reverse of the easy-going, ‘I wish all the world were downhill!’ The heights called him. In climbing, in conquering through long endurance, he found himself in a new way. He possessed the mountains and the mountains possessed him, by the sternness of their demands, the richness of their rewards.
Tramping with his guide some years later, over more than Alpine heights on the western frontiers of China, he wrote:
‘Long grass, enormous boulders, rocks of every size, streams and high mountains were all that was to be seen anywhere... and the mist rolled in upon us in drizzling rain. We only met one man all day, for the upper slopes afford food and shelter to none but leopards, wolves and bears. This lofty, scrubby, rocky, wet, wild country―how I just revel in it!
‘But the mist which hid everything below hid all above and around us too. Peak and plain were alike invisible. And the grand, soul-stirring SILENCE of these mountains! After our arduous climb, hour after hour (myself just in my element and perfectly happy!) we reached the summit, or rather the pass, for of course no mountain road ever goes over a peak. It was a wood―silent but for our footsteps on the wet, rotten leaves, and the occasional spat, spat, of big drops of water falling on the soft, spongy ground. Wet, silent, lonely―not even the call of a bird―it must have been some ten thousand feet high: and most of the year covered with snow.
‘Then came the steep descent on the further side, hands and feet alike in use as we clambered over mossy tree trunks and through brushwood. For a long way nothing was to be seen above or below but mist. Then suddenly (you only look up at intervals when negotiating such a path), my breath was almost taken away by seeing all the mountains of Tien-tan and beyond, as well as the plain far down below, clearly outspread before me. Such a magnificent view, wide and sweeping, made me pause awhile to take it in:―range upon range of dark mountains, swathed in cloud, and in the far distance the forbidding mass of the Salween Divide, barring the way like a solid wall. Down, down, down, every now and again stopping to take in the grandeur of the scene, until almost sundown, when we reached the Lisu village of Shui Chen, wet, bedraggled and weary―but I, to use Millicent’s phrase again, “perfectly happy”!’
There had been unconscious preparation, back in those Swiss summers, for the far more strenuous mountaineering that was to come. For in ways that often pass unnoticed, God fits His instruments for the work He has in view.
Fraser was little thinking, however, of the call that was at hand. Just twenty, he was looking forward to his last year at the London University. His course in engineering had been difficult, but he was well up in his work, as it proved when he graduated with distinction. Bright prospects were before him, for he loved his profession and not lack promising opportunities for its exercise. The coal was in sight; the ambition of years almost attained. He would soon be in a position of independence.
And it was just at that crisis, one of the most important in life, that the young man was unexpectedly arrested. From what little things the greatest changes often come! A thought, a word by the wayside, and we are challenged with possibilities undreamed of before. In Fraser’s life it was a little paperbound book, price two pence, that brought the challenge―a little book with the strange title, ‘Do Not Say,’ given him by a fellow student.
‘Do Not Say’? Why, as he read, he found that the attitude of mind called in question was the very one he was himself taking, had all along been taking, if not consciously, yet by the whole tenor of his life. True, world conditions were far from what they should be. That now, in the twentieth century of our Christian era, the vast majority of mankind should still be in ignorance of the one and―according to the Word of God―the only way of salvation was surely to our discredit. But that was a matter for ministers and churches to consider. His call was to engineering―a splendid profession and most important to his fellow men.
Yes, that had been an honest attitude, but now he became conscious of responsibility as never before, responsibility for the eternal welfare of others. The writer of the little book, himself a China missionary, put the matter, somehow, in a new light. His simple, honest appeal went straight to the heart of things. As man to man he questioned, ‘Is it right? In the sight of God, in view of the realities of eternity, is it right?’
‘A command has been given: “Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature”. It has not been obeyed more than half the people in the world have never yet heard the Gospel. What are we to say to this? Surely it concerns us Christians very seriously. For we are the people who are responsible. No one else is responsible. The angels are not responsible. God has not told the angels to preach the Gospel to the Heathen. Again the unconverted are not responsible. They have much to answer for, but not the neglect of the Heathen. God does not expect unconverted people to carry His glad tidings to the Heathen, He expects His disciples to do it.
The privilege of carrying the saving message has not been granted to others. The charge has been entrusted exclusively to us. What then can we say if our Master returns today and finds that, after nineteen centuries, more than half the world is utterly unevangelized? “The Gospel to every creature” ―a plain command. Millions who have never heard it―a simple fact. What are we going to say?... What indeed! I for one am utterly at a loss to conceive what we can say. After puzzling over this question, casting about in all directions to lay hold of something we might reasonably urge as our excuse, I am obliged to give it up! If our Master returned today to find millions of people unevangelized, and looked, as of course He would look, to us for an explanation, I cannot imagine what explanation we should have to give.
Of one thing I am certain—that most of the excuses we are accustomed to make with such good conscience now, we should be wholly ashamed of then... Ah, we do not think what it means that our brothers and sisters, so easily accessible, are perfectly able to understand the message of God’s redeeming love, and so greatly needing it, are being left in millions to perish.’
And among those multitudes were men, women and children who would believe, to their eternal blessedness, if he went to them.
And then the Man of Galilee, the Master with the pierced hands and feet passed by. ‘Jesus, looking upon him, loved him,’ and said, ‘Come, follow Me.’ That was all. But who, having seen that look, does not know that it was enough.
It does not take long to change the course of a life, if the power at work comes from above, if it is high enough and goes deep enough. Fraser’s call to missionary service was not primarily a call to China, but a simple, unreserved consecration to the Lord Jesus Christ. He wants it done. He commands it. He gave Himself for me―kept nothing back. He asks for my fellowship in service, my life, my all.
‘Here, Lord I give myself away―
‘Tis all that I can do,’
And in that act, the young man handed over ‘not the latch key but the master key’ of his whole being. Once for all he accepted the leadership—nay, more, the ownership of the Prince of Glory Who for him had died upon the Cross. That Cross was taken as his highest privilege, his most binding pledge. ‘Crucified with Christ’ became so real that in his measure he, too, could say, ‘I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.’
Sacred between God and the soul are such experiences.
All that even the mother knew was that Jim’s life was changed in the most thorough way. He, himself, looked upon it as his conversion. If he had been a Christian before, it had been a divided allegiance. Now, the claims of Christ took the first place—to know Him, to please Him, to be wholly His. And this brought joy such as he had never known before. Always strong and purposeful, there was now a new control and fellowship that satisfied the heart.
‘He did not talk much about it’ [Mrs. Fraser wrote] ‘but I have seen his face shining when he came down from prayer. He said it was that book which made plain to him his path of duty.
‘Of course, the sacrifice was a real one. He must have known that he had good prospects. He could not but feel his power. But he turned from it all without reserve to consecrate his life to God. Conversion should be a real giving of ourselves, should it not? When that takes place, the Holy Spirit fills the heart and there is joy.’
The new ownership soon showed itself in genuine concern for the welfare of others. A tramp came to the door one day. Jim opened it, and not only supplied his needs, but before long had him on his knees in the garden, seeking the Friend ‘that sticketh closer than a brother’. Some visitors of his own age had come up to London, and he was showing them the sights. They wanted to see a play at the Hippodrome. He left them there, declining to go in, but arranging to meet them again when the entertainment was over. Meanwhile, he asked to be guided to anyone whom he could help. His kindly way opened people’s hearts and he soon found that one man to whom he was talking was actually penniless and hungry. After providing him with a meal, Jim found a quiet place where they could be alone and in the simplest way led him to Christ. He heard from the man afterwards that he was going on happily as a Christian.
After taking his degree in London―B.Sc., Engineering, with honors―Fraser turned from the work he loved to give himself to definite preparation for the life before him. Though only twenty-one, he lost no time in applying to the China Inland Mission, and when accepted, went at once to the headquarters in North London for special training. The year he passed with other young men at Newington Green gave him opportunity not only for Bible study. Daily attending the noon prayer meeting of the Mission, he came to know its leaders and many of the workers at home on furlough, and was able to judge of the practical outworking of its faith and principles. All he saw and heard confirmed his desire to work on interdenominational lines, without stated salary, avoiding debt in any form and making no appeals for money. He was encouraged by the experience of the Mission in his conviction that Mr. Hudson Taylor’s words expressed a great and unchangeable reality:
There is a living God. He has spoken in His Word. He means just what He says and will do all that He has promised.
What need then for anxiety when it stands written, as to temporal supplies of every sort: ‘Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you’? Had it not been so for more than forty years in the experience of the Mission which, though numbering over a thousand members, had never been in debt nor had an overdraft at the bank?
It was no little strength and comfort to young Fraser, both then and afterwards, that his parents gave their hearty consent to the step he was taking. One precious compensation for the parting that drew near was the new and enriched relationship between mother and son. Neither of them had anticipated this. It was one of the glad surprises that come all along the way to those who follow the Lord fully. In this connection Mrs. Fraser recalled:
After Jim’s conversion, we had such deep spiritual fellowship. He was a great help to me. We shared spiritual experiences. Indeed, he became my teacher. My progress had been gradual through the years; he seemed a mature Christian right away. He had so completely given himself to the Lord that he could be filled with the Spirit. He emptied himself—and so the Lord could fill him.
To part with such a son was a heartache that only such mothers can understand. Yet it was a willing sacrifice. ‘Jim, Dear, I am the happiest woman in London today,’ she wrote in the little note he carried with him. And it was joy that continued, just because the loneliness was for Jesus’ sake.
I could not pour the ointment on His blessed feet, as Mary did―but I gave Him my boy.
And is He not infinitely worthy?