MIN WAS just a poor dirty hungry little Chinese boy. His parents were dead and he had no friends, no home, no food, and no money. For four days he had little to eat and had walked twenty miles into the town of Linying. He felt sick and sad and wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again. For a time he had been a slave boy to his elder brother. But when war and famine came to the country Min often had nothing to eat. Finally his brother sent him away for good.
Sick, hungry and sad he had fin ally reached the town and creeping into the corner of the temple he lay down to sleep, wishing he might never wake up.
Two dear Christian men, Mr. Wang and his friend Mr. Duncan, came walking along the road. Everywhere they saw people starving. The missionaries had opened camps where they might feed children.
Suddenly they saw the little bundle in the corner of the temple and discovered poor Min, thin, cold, but fast asleep. They felt so sorry for him that they picked him up and carried him back to their home. For the first time in his life Min slept in a bed with white sheets and never had he tasted such good food. What if he were to wake and find it was all a dream?
Then they took him over to the camp where he began to learn about the Lord Jesus. Young Min was a bit deaf so he sat in a front seat. When the missionary spoke and said, “God loves us” Min was puzzled because he had never known what love was in all his life.
Then one day he saw Mrs. Duncan playing with her little baby daughter. She was making such a fuss of her little one and Min could not understand, not ever having been shown any love in his little life time. “Look how she loves that little girl,” he said. But then lowering his head he added, “I haven’t anyone to love me.” A Christian Chinese lady put her arms around him and said, “Don’t say that, Min. We all love you. And don’t you remember that God loves you and that Jesus died for you?” Min began to think about it.
One Sunday evening they had a song service in their little hall. They only had a tiny oil lamp for light and no hymn books, but Mr. Duncan had taught the boys and girls to memorize the hymns. On this occasion instead of all singing together, the boys and girls were called on, each one of them, to come and sing a hymn. If someone was too nervous or shy, two could sing together. “But,” the missionary said, “unless you mean what you sing, do not sing at all, for singing hymns is like talking to God.”
Then Mr. Duncan asked, “Is there anyone here who has trusted the Lord Jesus, and finds it hard to tell someone? Can you sing it?” Slowly a young Mohammedan girl whose father had died in the famine made her way to the front and sang: O, come to my heart, Lord Jesus, There is room in my heart for Thee: O, come to my heart, Lord Jesus, There is room in my heart for Thee.
There was a pause and then from the darkness of the back of the room came a boy and stepped up on the platform. It was Min. He seemed so different. His face was shining. He said to the missionary, “I’m not much of a singer, but if you’ll help me I would like to sing ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ "
The missionary never forgot that night when with his arm around Min’s shoulders he helped him to sing, “Jesu Ai Ngo — Jesus Loves Me.”
We wonder where Min is now and if he is still alive. For today all the missionaries have been driven out of China. For when the Communists conquered the country they would not allow the teachers to continue telling the people about the Lord Jesus. Now the work must be carried on by native Christians. Many have already suffered and died for their faith.
We can pray for many boys and girls in China just like Min who do not know what it means to be loved by God or anyone else. How sweet to think that boys and girls, and older folks too, who love the Lord Jesus will one day all be in heaven around Him, and we believe Min will be there too. We hope our dear reader will be there — saved now to sing the Saviour’s praise forever.
ML-08/19/1973