ON SUNDAY afternoons a warmhearted Christian business man would go out on the streets giving out gospel tracts. This Sunday afternoon, however, it was raining, and feeling very tired he decided to stay home and take a rest. On his desk lay a bundle of tracts.
Just then he heard a step outside, the door was pushed open, and eleven-year-old Harry entered. “Why, Dad,” asked the boy in surprise, “aren’t you going out to give out tracts today?”
“It’s raining too hard,” his father replied.
“Dad, doesn’t God save people even when it’s raining?”
Startled at such a question, his father explained: “When it’s raining hard there are few people on the street — besides, I’m very tired this afternoon so I wasn’t going out.”
“Shall I go out for you?” pursued Harry.
“It’s hardly convenient in this rain,” said his dad.
“What does that matter if I wear my rubbers and raincoat?” the boy begged.
Taking his father’s silence for consent, he ran out and was back in a minute in his rain clothes. “Dad, I’m ready,” he called excitedly. “Please give me some tracts.”
Seeing his son’s eagerness, his father handed him a few, warning him to be careful and to come back home as soon as he was through. Eagerly the boy started out to distribute the tracts. It was raining hard and the streets were nearly deserted. Only now and then was he able to give away a tract. Darkness was coming on, and the rain continued to pour down.
Finally he had just one tract left, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. He walked another block; still he was the only one on the lonely street. What would he do with this last tract?
Then suddenly he thought: “I know a way; people don’t come to me, so why don’t I go to them?” Hastening his steps he approached the nearest house and knocked.
“Who’s there?” came a voice from within. His heart was thumping, half with fright, half with joy. He waited a moment, and then as no one opened the door, he summoned fresh courage and knocked again.
“Who’s knocking?” He kept knocking until the door opened, and there stood an old woman. Her sad wrinkled face was indeed a sharp contrast to the eager countenance of the young boy on the doorstep. His face all smiles, he said respectfully, “Lady, pardon me, but I’ve come especially to bring you the gospel.” And he placed his last tract in her hand.
It was the next Sunday evening and the little gospel hall was crowd. The Christian businessman was there, and of course young Harry. Several bright gospel songs were sung and prayer was offered for the Lord’s blessing. Then an old woman, with the light of heaven shining on her face, arose and gave this testimony in praise to God.
“Thank God!” she exclaimed, “He sent one of His little servants to bring me the word of His salvation. Otherwise, last Sunday night in my loneliness, poverty and despair I would have ended it all. It was pouring with rain. I had lost both my husband and my son, and had sounded the depths of human suffering. After a long struggle I gave way and was about to do away with myself. When suddenly there was a knock at the door. I did not move, thinking I would wait until whoever it was had gone. But the knocking continued until I had to open the door. There stood a boy with a look of springtime on his face, and he gave me a gospel tract. Even as I looked at him, I knew that God had not forsaken me. I could not keep back the tears, but confessed to Him my sins and asked for pardon. Praise the Lord! He saved me.” Then she sat down amid the hush that had come over the audience.
Young Harry whispered softly in his father’s ear, “She’s the one, Dad!”
Not till then did his father know that God had sent his dear boy to find a lost sheep by means of a tract! Even when it rained!
“How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!
ML-08/15/1971