A winter drizzle made the streets both cold and unpleasant, but it did not dampen the fervor of a veteran Christian who for more than fifty years had been an open-air preacher. On that Sunday evening we went with him to tell the gospel story on the streets before going into a nearby hall for a further service.
As the old preacher proclaimed salvation through the Lord Jesus, a young medical student drew near and listened. He had come to the university from a Christian home, but contact with other students who laughed at religion had shaken the faith that he had held. It may have been through his own reasoning, or his desire to be like his new friends, I cannot tell, but be that as it may, that night he was an atheist in thought and intention.
But the plain words of the rugged, old speaker made an impression on him. Here was not lighthearted inexperience toying with the realities of life and death, God and eternity, like a juggler tossing his balls at the circus. The student had grown used to that kind of thing in the class and dissecting room, but now he heard one who, near the end of a long life, was telling the story of what had given him peace and joy in time, and a certain hope for eternity. This impressed him, and when an invitation was given to all to come to the service in the hall, he came with the others.
The preaching in the hall deepened the impression of reality that had been made upon him in the street, and he remained in his seat when the meeting ended. A Christian man sat down by him, but after a few minutes’ talk with him, the student stood up to leave.
I had noticed him intently listening to the preaching. Holding out my hand to him at the door, I asked him what the trouble was.
He said, “That man refused to talk with me because I do not believe the Bible. I don’t believe it is God’s Word.”
“Oh,” I said, “you do not believe that this book is the Word of God?”
“No,” he said, “I don’t, for even if there is a God, I do not see how He could write a book for us; it is the work of men.”
“I see. Then it is evidently useless to discuss that question, so I will put my Bible in my pocket. Now tell me, are you happy?”
He admitted that he was not, so I said: “If you don’t mind, I would like to introduce you to some of my friends here.”
I called two young men to come and sit beside us. Having introduced them to him I said, “Do you think that my friends look happy?”
He thought they did. Then I said, “I am going to ask them to tell us how God made them happy.”
Glad of the opportunity to tell of his experience, the older of the two told how he had attended a certain gospel preaching. The text was that wonderful word from the lips of Jesus: For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
He told how he had seen that there was room for him in that great and blessed WHOSOEVER, and that salvation and the gift of eternal life were for him— yes, more truly for him than if his own name had been in the verse, for there were many with the same name, whereas God’s “whosoever” stretched out its long arms of blessing to embrace all who would simply believe, no matter what their name or nation. He had known from that time on that he had a Saviour in heaven who would never let him perish.
The younger man told us that it was at home that his father pointed out to him a beautiful verse in the Bible: If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus [or, Jesus as Lord], and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised Him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. The younger man read and believed that Jesus had not only died for his sins, but He had been raised again from the dead—positive proof that the work was finished, the debt paid, that God was satisfied in all His holy claims and that his sins were gone forever.
I too had a story to tell—a story of sin and need on my part, but of love and mercy and cleansing blood on the Saviour’s part—a story such as every saved soul delights to tell for the glory of God.
The student listened to us with growing interest, and before we finished our tales of grace he had ceased to be an atheist. He felt that his need was what ours had been, and that the Saviour who had saved us could also save him. So we knelt together, just the four of us, and we found the Saviour very near to us as that anxious sinner sought Him.
Our kneeling there together was an incident that would not have interested the ordinary man of the world, but at that moment that young man’s sins were forgiven and his soul was saved and he could say:
’Tis done, the great transaction’s done,
I am my Lord’s, and He is mine.
This is the greatest event that can happen in the history of any man.
“Come unto Me,
all ye that labor and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest.”