Chapter 14.
Dark indeed was the heathenism by which they were surrounded, as the young missionaries had opportunity of proving, even during the progress of the conference. For whether they had realized these things before or not, they were now made painfully conscious of the facts connected with so-called demon possession and the people’s experiences and ideas upon the subject. But though in this and other ways the power of the enemy was becoming better known, they were more deeply proving, also, the fullness of their resources in the living God.
“What strong consolation we find,” wrote Stanley Smith, “in the three little words, He is able.’ It is grand to change the unbelieving question Can God? I into a triumphant God can,’ and so lay hold on His might. Strong thus in the Lord, we are ready for the conflict: able to stand against all the wiles of the devil; able to withstand in the evil day; able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.”
Among the inquirers attending the conference was a young man from the Chao-ch’eng Refuge who was supposed to be under the power of evil spirits. He was often seemingly quite well for weeks together, though at other times thrown into a condition so terrible that it resembled the worst sufferings of demoniacs described in the Gospels.
During the first days of the conference this poor fellow was quiet and harmless enough, but as the meetings proceeded he was seized with a violent access of frenzy, dangerous to himself and others. Hsi was out of the way at the time, and returned to find the trouble at its height. He was immediately made aware of what was going on, and hastened into the presence of the raving demoniac.
Strangely enough, as soon as Hsi appeared, K’ong became suddenly quiet. His cries and struggles ceased, and the men who were holding him relaxed their efforts.
“He is well, he is well!” they cried. “The spirit has departed.”
Not satisfied with this, however, Hsi laid his hand upon the young man’s head and prayed for him earnestly in the name of Jesus. The result was immediate and complete relief, and there seemed every reason to hope that the trouble was permanently conquered.
One of the missionaries present was much impressed with all that had taken place, and especially with the power attending Hsi’s coming and his prayers. Having a sum of fifty dollars at his disposal, he brought it to him, saying: “The expenses of your work must be considerable, please accept this contribution to be used as you think best.”
Surprised and hardly realizing how much it was, Hsi took the silver, but had scarcely done so before he began to feel troubled. Fifty dollars seemed so large a sum, and it had come so suddenly. He had accepted it, too, without waiting to ask counsel of the Lord. Was it cupidity that had moved him? Had he fallen into a trap cunningly devised by the devil? The more he thought about it the more he felt uneasy. So, leaving the money with Mrs. Hsi for safe keeping, he went away alone to pray.
Hardly had he found a quiet place, however, before a messenger came hurriedly to seek him.
“Come quickly; the matter is serious,” he cried. “Kong is worse than ever. And we can do nothing.”
Much distressed, Hsi returned to the scene of trouble; and the moment he entered the room Kong pointed straight at him, shouting with fiendish triumph: “You may come, but I fear you no longer! At first you seemed high as heaven, but now you are low, low down and small. You have no power to control me anymore.”
And the worst of it was Hsi knew his words were true. He had no grip of faith or power in prayer, and felt distinctly that the money had robbed him of his strength. With shame and sorrow he turned away and went for the silver, followed by the mocking cries of the unhappy demoniac. Then, finding the donor, he openly returned the gift, confessing that the sudden possession of so large a sum had come between his soul and God.
With empty hands but lightened heart he now went back to the excited crowd. K’ong was still raving wildly, defying any power on earth to restrain him. But Hsi was in touch once more with his Master. Quietly, in the name of Jesus, he commanded the tormentor to be silent and leave his miserable victim. Immediately, with a fearful cry, K’ong was thrown into convulsions, from which, however, he presently emerged, quiet and self-possessed, though much weakened for the time being.
This was to Hsi a deeply painful lesson, emphasizing afresh the all-important truth that, as he expressed it, “the ungrieved presence of the Holy Spirit is more to be desired than abundance of gold and silver.”
Sad to say, poor K’ong, the chief sufferer, was not permanently healed. He never became a real believer, and as time went on drifted away and was lost to Christian influences.
His case was typical of many in China, not to speak of other heathen lands where the devil is deliberately worshipped both in his own name and under varying forms of idolatry. That such manifestations should follow the open invocation of demons is perfectly natural, and should excite neither incredulity nor surprise. It calls for careful consideration, however, for it discloses the true nature of the power behind the idols, and therefore the heart of the difficulty with which the missionary has to deal.
That idolatry and demon worship are thus closely connected, the word of God itself assures us. “What say I then?” writes the missionary apostle, “that the idol is anything, or that which is offered in sacrifice to idols is anything? But I say, that the things which the Gentiles sacrifice, they sacrifice to devils, and not to God: and I would not that ye should have fellowship with devils.”
This mysterious linking of the power of evil spirits with material idols is a terrible force to be reckoned on, and shows itself in many ways. One wholly natural outcome is the belief in and practice of spiritualism, so prevalent among heathen peoples in some form or other. Specially in North China is this common, where Taoist and Buddhist priests alike obtain great influence and financial profit from communications, real or pretended, with the unseen world. These practices are regarded with abhorrence by a certain section of the people, but they are generally resorted to notwithstanding.
Men and women who in Western lands would be described as spirit mediums abound. There is scarcely a village on the Shan-si plain without one. Some calamity befalls a family — illness or disaster. Send for the medium at once. She comes, and is respectfully welcomed. Incense is offered before the idols, for the medium always plays into the hands of the priests. She sits down, usually in the seat of honor in the guest hall, and soon relapses into a curious trance. This is done by yielding the whole being, absolutely, to the familiar spirit.
The medium just waits, like an empty vessel, for the advent of the influence desired. Suddenly: “Shen lai-liao, Shen lai-liao!” “The spirit has come.”
The medium is now possessed, filled, transported. She speaks in a new voice, with great authority, and declares what the trouble is and how it may be remedied. More paper money and incense are burned, and more prostrations made before the idols; while gradually, with horrible contortions, she comes out of the trance again.
A striking feature in these cases is the apparent inability of the medium to shake off the control of the terrible power to which they have yielded. Unsought, and contrary to their own desire, the overmastering influence comes back, no matter how they may struggle against it. One case of the kind occurred near P’ing-yang about this time, and is recorded by the missionary who witnessed it.
A well-known medium, who for many years had made his living by the practice, finding his health and nervous system greatly impaired, decided to give it up. Though only sixty years of age, he was so worn and haggard that he looked at least twenty years older. The struggle was long and terrible. In spite of all his efforts, the old tyranny reasserted itself again and again, until deliverance seemed impossible. He was about to give up in despair, when providentially he came in contact with some Ping-yang Christians. Just how much he understood and received of the Gospel is not known, but through prayer and a measure of faith in Christ he obtained considerable relief.
But a night came when, he was returning from the city by himself, and had to pass a sacred tree in a lonely spot, believed to be the dwelling place of demons. As he drew near, an overwhelming impulse came upon him to fall down and worship, as in former times. Desperately he resisted, but the inward urging was too strong. He stopped, fell on his knees, and bowed his forehead repeatedly to the ground. Immediately the old possession came back in redoubled force, and the misery he suffered was appalling.
Those about him sent for the Christians, and later on for the missionary, from whose memory the despairing look in those poor hunted eyes will never be effaced. He was nearing the end then, for the physical and the mental anguish of his condition were more than the shattered powers could withstand. But prayer again prevailed. The distressed soul turned to Christ for deliverance, and shortly afterward, in peace that was not of this world, he died.
Whatever theory may be adopted to account for these phenomena, experience shows the deep, practical necessity for a life in touch with God, if such sufferers are to be afforded permanent relief. Nor does this view at all conflict with a scientific recognition of physical and mental conditions often present in these cases that can to some extent be controlled. But where medical skill stops short, and all human power is unavailing, there yet remain, among the heathen at any rate, very many otherwise hopeless sufferers to whom deliverance may be brought through faith in Christ alone.
But faith that prevails is not always found either in individual believers or in churches. Its secret is a close walk with God, and the real fullness of the Holy Spirit. And for this, effectual, fervent prayer is needed on behalf of all missionaries and native Christians, that they may be strong to overcome in the conditions by which they are surrounded. Shortly before the coming of Mr. Bailer’s party to P’ing-yang, a sad occurrence took place that showed lack of power in the little church in that city. Was it due to lack of prayer at home?
From a neighboring village a promising inquirer had for some months been attending the services. He appeared really anxious to become a Christian. But all the time his household was so tormented by what they believed to be the malicious agency of evil spirits, that life was made intolerable.
At length he came to the missionary and said: “It is no use. I must give it all up. We cannot endure such misery any longer.”
The missionary endeavored to help him, but without success, painfully conscious all the while that there was not sufficient spiritual power in the church to conquer the difficulty.
The man, in desperation, ceased his connection with the Christians, and immediately his home was left in peace; the mysterious annoyances were not resumed, nor, sad to say, was his interest in the Gospel.
These are strange stories. Yes, but they are true. Much that lies behind the facts may be mysterious, but the facts have to be dealt with. And it is still the case that when prayer ascends from the mountain top, the battle goes right in the valley. No need is more urgent in connection with missionary work than the need for more real waiting upon God for those in the forefront of the fight. For “this shall turn to my salvation through your prayer and the supply of the Spirit of Jesus Christ.”
Hsi’s own view of the subject was that all unregenerate men are more or less under the power of the devil, just as all Christians are more or less influenced by the Spirit of God. Many truly converted people, indwelt by the Holy Ghost, are far from wholly yielded to His control. And in something the same way, “the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience” has not in all cases the same supremacy.
But of his actual presence in those who do not belong to Christ, Hsi had no doubt; nor that he possesses in ever fuller measure the lives of those who follow his promptings and consent to his sway. He recognized also that though Satan personally is restricted within finite limitations, he is the head of almost innumerable hosts.4 A whole legion of devils, expelled from one man, were concerned in the destruction of a herd of swine. And in his experience, evidences were not lacking of the presence of many such malignant spirits still.
In earlier years, as a Confucianist, he had been drilled in the regulation attitude of contempt for all this line of things. With other scholars of his acquaintance, he called Taoism and its accompanying devil worship a sie-kiao, a vile or unclean cult. But when it came to the point he, like all the rest, would send for the medium at once and act on the directions received. Fire and water can never blend. True, but put the kettle on the hob and it boils. The Confucianist could not have explained his spiritualism, and did not theoretically believe in it. But anyone could see that it worked.
To the young missionaries so recently arrived from home, the whole question was naturally perplexing. As yet they had no experience or settled theories of their own, but they could not help appreciating the genuineness of Hsi’s convictions, and the faith that made his new name as a Christian no empty boast. His devotion and prayerfulness inspired them with confidence, and they were prepared to welcome the change that was about to bring them into closer contact with the man and his work.
For some time past Hsi had been much in prayer about commencing an Opium Refuge in the city of Hung-tung, a few miles west of Fan’s village. During the conference he felt the time had come, and it was his great desire that Mr. Stanley Smith should join him in the new undertaking. The city was busy, populous, and important. Hsi’s idea was that a combination might be affected with the happiest results. He would open and carry on the Refuge, if Mr. Stanley Smith would live in it, and develop the spiritual side of the work. This offered a sphere just suited to the young missionary’s evangelistic gifts; and to Hsi’s satisfaction, as well as his own, the consent of the Mission was obtained.
Feeling the need of caution in approaching so influential a place, Mr. Stanley Smith followed Hsi’s advice, and was content to live for some weeks in a village near at hand, while making friends and inquiring about houses in the city. Patience was soon rewarded, for suitable and commodious premises were found in a busy street, and quietly taken possession of, no objection being raised to the advent of a foreigner. The front courtyard Hsi took over as an Opium Refuge, Mr. Stanley Smith occupying the second. And the large guest hall was set apart for a chapel, which was soon in requisition.
Here, then, in the month of May 1886, a new center was established, initiating a new order of things. Mr. Hoste came over later to join his friend, and Hsi paid frequent visits, giving special attention to the Opium Refuge and public meetings. It was an admirable combination: Hsi, plus young, devoted, foreign workers; and a combination destined to result in blessing.