Arthur Strong had come of age. On this, his twenty-first birthday, there had been quite a celebration in his honor—a dinner and dance at the country club. What fun it had been! But now the last guest had departed, and Arthur and his parents, weary but proudly elated at the success of their social efforts, had arrived at their own home.
Still enjoying the thrill of the prominence that had been his for the past few hours, Arthur had gone to his room to prepare for bed. Removing his coat, he, almost automatically reached into the pocket. And there he found it—a folded bit of paper that he himself had placed there when he dressed for the evening festivities. Standing with the folded paper in his hand, Arthur remembered a request made of him during the day just past.
Among the visitors in the afternoon had been an elderly uncle of his—"my religious old uncle," Arthur laughingly styled him. The aging man had earned this title since, on the few occasions when the two had to meet, this uncle had always spoken faithfully to him about eternal things. And this was the last subject that the pleasure-loving young nephew cared to hear about.
However, this uncle was a very wealthy man and Arthur desired to keep himself in his good graces. Therefore, on this occasion of his twenty-first birthday, Arthur had made sure that this "religious old uncle" was invited to the celebration. He was not surprised when his elderly relative presented him with a very generous check; indeed, perhaps it was that very gift which made Arthur more kindly disposed than usual towards the gentleman.
Immediately on his arrival, after presenting his gift, the uncle asked to be excused from the festivities, saying that those things were not in his line. Then he asked Arthur to go with him for a short walk.
Arthur could not refuse such a reasonable request, though he greatly dreaded to be alone with his uncle for fear he would speak to him about his soul. Evidently the older man guessed his feelings and quickly assured him. "My boy," he said, "I shall not say anything of a religious nature to you today. But please take this piece of paper and, before you go to bed tonight, read it and fill in the one word that is missing.”
Arthur had readily taken the paper and given his promise, only too pleased to get off so easily, as he thought. And now as he stood alone in his room he prepared to keep his word. Filled with curiosity, he unfolded the scrap of paper and read the few words: "To me to live is—.”
"Ah, a scripture text! That explains it. What funny notions my religious old uncle has!”
Now for the missing word. From the top shelf of a cupboard he retrieved his neglected Bible. It too was a gift long ago from this same uncle. With some difficulty the Scripture reference was located, and Arthur read aloud the brief sentence: "To me to live is Christ.”
"Poor old codger!" he thought. "How dreary! That may suit him, but it's not my aim. I intend to enjoy myself, and I'm not ashamed of it. That's what I'll write—’To me to live is to enjoy myself!" Then with a flourish and a sigh of relief, Arthur Strong signed his name and tucked Bible and paper away. His promise was fulfilled.
The years passed. Arthur had married and the union had been blest of God with a child, a little girl, but other earthly blessings were few. Pursuing his course of seeking a good time, Arthur finally realized that his life was not yielding the enjoyment and satisfaction he had anticipated. Instead, his pursuit of such passing pleasures was rapidly depleting what had seemed to him an abundant inheritance. Inevitably, the time came when even his home and its furnishings must be sold.
As he stood in the dismantled house gloomily watching as the packers and transfer men busily removed his household effects, what a contrast he presented as a man of the world to the happy care-free young fellow of twenty-one! A lean hardness and bitterness had replaced the pleasant lines of eager anticipation which had distinguished the youth. Even his voice expressed only gloom and hopelessness as he muttered: "My whole life is a failure.”
In the confusion of the dismantled rooms, only Arthur's little girl, too young to realize the tragedy of it all, could find excitement and pleasure in examining the now unfamiliar looking furniture. Suddenly she came running to her father holding up to him a folded bit of paper. "Look, Daddy! Look what I found,” she cried. "And it has writing on it.”
Absently taking the paper and unfolding it, the father read: "To me to live is—to enjoy myself," and his own signature underneath. Ah, what a miserable failure it had indeed all been! Arthur turned away, unable to bear the questioning gaze of his little daughter. As he left the room his past years came before him in review.
"He had lived for himself,
He had thought for himself,
For himself and none beside,
Just as if Jesus had never lived;
As if He had never died.”
And what had been the end of it all? God spoke to him then and there, through that message from the past.
He fell on his knees, owning his sin and folly and the miserable mistake he had made. "Henceforth," he purposed in his heart "to me to live shall be Christ." In true humility and contrition Arthur Strong gave himself to the Savior who had loved him and had died to save him.