The late Dr. George Soltau, after addressing a meeting in Australia, was approached by one of the audience, a young man quite unknown to him, who asked for an interview. The conversation which followed is here given in the doctor’s own words:
“Well,” I said, “what is it?”
“I want to have a little talk with you, if you don’t mind. I’m a skeptic. I don’t believe in anything.”
“Lots of fellows are skeptics nowadays, just like you, and it’s not very easy to help them. What do you want to know?”
“Well, I wanted to ask you if you would kindly try and prove to me that Christ really exists.”
“Why should I? He doesn’t interest you at all, if you are a skeptic. It can’t concern you, surely.”
“Well, I am very miserable, and I find things unsatisfactory; and I have been wondering this evening whether I could get any proof about this.”
“Supposing you did; what next?”
“Is it worth your while—being a skeptic?”
“Well, I am so utterly miserable and wretched.”
“That’s no wonder—serves you right; and I’m not going to waste two minutes trying to prove to you that Christ exists.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not worthwhile under the circumstances. Besides, I'm not sure it's possible to do so to a skeptic.”
“I wish you'd try. You have no idea how dark and miserable I am.”
“Perhaps I will, if you will kindly prove to me something first.”
“What's that?”
“That you are your mother's son.”
“That's easy enough.”
“All right, fire away. How will you begin?"
He sat thinking for some time, and then said, "I'm blest if I know how to begin!”
“That's just my fix too, about proving Christ exists. I don't know how to begin. Look here, my dear fellow. All you can tell me is that as far back as you can remember someone taught you to call her Mother, and she called you her own son; and you have gone on doing it ever since. Has it worked all right?”
“Certainly it has.”
“Are you satisfied that she is your mother?"
“Perfectly so.”
“Can you prove it?”
“No, but I'm perfectly satisfied she is.”
“And so am I that Christ exists. Many years ago I first began to call Him my Savior, and to obey Him as such; and He has called me His, and it works perfectly. I have no further proof for you than that.”
“How can I find Him for myself then?”
“Very simply, and quickly, if you are thoroughly honest in the inquiry.”
“Yes, indeed I am.”
“Suppose you were ever to be lost in the bush, you could only do one thing—stand still and coo-ee. Then, if any one, of whose existence you had no knowledge, heard you coo-ee, he would answer you, and you two would keep it up until he found his way to you and took you out the way he came in. You've got to coo-ee to the Lord Jesus Christ. If He exists anywhere around, He will hear. If He hears, I can guarantee He will answer; and if you keep it up He will come to you and lead you out of the dark.”
“That's simple enough.”
“Will you coo-ee?”
“Yes.”
“When will you begin?”
“Here and now.”
“Then just kneel down and begin right away.”
He dropped on his knees and began with some such words as these: "O Lord Jesus, I don't know whether you exist or not, but I'm lost, I'm bushed! Can You save me?”
He paused, and then I began to pray with him, watching his pale anxious face. Presently I saw a great smile steal over it, and I stopped, feeling sure that God was working.
“Does God exist?" I asked him.
“Of course He does.”
“How do you know?”
“He has taken me out of the dark, and I am His. He has saved me. He is my Savior."
“Are you satisfied?”
“Perfectly.”
We rose, and after a few words we parted. More than twelve months passed by, when I was greeted on the top of a streetcar by a young man with a good-sized Bible under his arm.
“Do you remember me?”
“No," I said, "I can't say I do.”
“The coo-ee fellow! That was a good night's work. I have been studying this Book ever since, and it's just grand.”