On the Alaskan Trail
Margaret Jean Tuininga
Table of Contents
On the Alaskan Trail
Hop on, boys and girls! No, not on a train, not into a car, not even into an airplane-but onto the dog sled! It gets mighty cold where we're going, sometimes down to eighty below!-so you'll need a warm fur robe tucked snugly about you. Perhaps you would rather "mush" along on snowshoes behind the sled for a while.
We're going to visit some isolated villages with a missionary who has had exciting experiences with wolves and bears, and who has had wonderful times giving out the gospel with his famous Gospel Husky, "Pinky," and the other dogs of his team.
The sled we are riding on is entirely hand-carved, and there is a beautiful sign painted on the canvas covering. The sign has the map of Alaska on an infra-red background, with a cross standing out of the North Pole. Around it is the verse, "PEACE through the Blood of His CROSS"-Colossians 1:20.
There is the crack of the whip-and off we go!-off to the beautiful land of the frozen North! Here is the missionary's first story:
On the Alaskan Trail: Saved From the Wolves
One day the missionary started out with his dog-team and a sled load of clothing, food, and a good supply of Testaments, Sunday school papers and tracts. He hoped to visit many lonely places where missionaries are seldom able to go.
At Chickaloon he stopped for a day with a Christian trapper to mend a worn-out runner on his sled. The next day he got an early start, for he wanted to make twenty-five miles over a new trail. Trappers and villagers advised him not to follow the highway where gravel often made sledding bad, but to follow up the river to a certain creek which would lead him back to the highway twenty-five miles farther on, where it was more snow packed.
Up the frozen river they went in the early morning. It was still dark, for the daylight would not begin until about nine, and the sun would appear about eleven o'clock-to shine for only two short hours. For the first few miles the dogs were eager on the trail, and all went well. Then came an unwelcome scratching sound beneath the runners, and the sled began to drag heavily-they had struck gravel in the stream bed! After an hour or two of slow travel over the gravel they stopped and made camp for the night.
The next day they ran out of the gravel after a bit, but ran into new trouble. An overflow of water from a glacier made the ice so slippery and treacherous that even the dogs could hardly keep to their feet. Finally, after only another slow five miles were covered it was time to pitch camp again. Finding a small, open, but sheltered spot in the forest, the missionary built a good fire and gathered a supply of wood to last for the night. The dogs were hungry and gulped down their food gratefully, and the missionary enjoyed his supper and coffee too, after the hard day. Then making sure the dogs were all safely tied in a circle about the fire the missionary made himself as comfortable as possible, and by the light of the fire read a few verses from God's Word.
As the night set in there came a low growl from several dogs as they began to hear the howling of coyotes and wolves in the distance. But the missionary's heart was trusting in the Lord, and soon the sound of his singing drowned out the cry of the wolves.
"Love sent my Lord to the cross of shame, Love sent my Lord, Oh, praise His holy Name!"
The third day was bright and cheery, but soon they found that they were getting into deep snow. The sled was not toboggan style, and the load was heavy. The runners cut down into the snow, and the sled dragged heavily. The missionary snowshoed ahead to break trail, and to try to pack the snow a bit. Then he would return and help the dogs tow the sled, but it was slow, hard pulling.
So they camped out again another night as there were still eleven miles to make to the highway. This night the cries of the wolf pack were much louder, and the missionary dared not close his eyes for even a few moments, lest he sleep and the fire would burn low. He knew from the cries of the wolves that they were hungry, and were growing braver.
The fourth day they got another early start, but the snow got deeper and deeper as they neared the glacier. Snow that is ordinarily blown off by the strong glacial winds, had settled loosely in the river bottom. After about four miles it was already getting dark, and the cries of the wolves were growing bolder.
Looking about, the missionary could see no good place to camp, so decided to just stay with his sled to protect the dogs through the night. But the night grew colder, and he soon realized that he was chilling, and his hands were freezing-he must build a fire!
So, snowshoeing to the cliff on the river bank, he found a place to climb up above an overflow. Stiff, and awkward with cold, he tripped over a log in the growing dusk.
Splash!-into the water he fell! It was only three feet deep, but a small avalanche of snow billowed down over him, too. Climbing out of the icy water, he tried desperately to scramble up the steep cliff, but his clothes began to freeze stiff and board-like, making it hard to move.
Fumbling under the snow with numb fingers for firewood, he finally found enough to make a cheerful welcome blaze. Almost dazed with the cold, he had to use his ax to hammer the ice off his boots and clothes before he could take them off to dry. Huddled close to the fire with a robe about him the missionary thanked the Lord that he was still breathing-but the glacial air had the feeling of cold death in it. As he sat there alone the Lord reminded him, "The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them"-Psalm 34:7.
During the long night watch the missionary again did not dare to sleep for a moment. Every little while he fired a shot into the blackness of the night, as the howling of the wolves, or a yelp from one of the dogs meant that the wolves were creeping too close. While his clothes were drying, he spent much time getting in wood to keep the blaze going. Finally the darkness began to break as the dawn came, and how good it was to see that the faithful dogs were still all alive, huddled about the sled!
The missionary loaded his sleeping roll and rifle on the sled. Then, after looking around to make sure that there were no wolves in sight, he returned to his camp for his food kit, ax, and lantern. After taking a moment to read a few verses from God's Word he started down the cliff. Suddenly there was a big whoop from the dogs.
The missionary looked and saw six great black wolves weaving around in circles within seventy-five feet of the sled. The missionary was still about a thousand feet away, and the wolves could easily pounce upon the dogs before he could reach them. With a prayer in his heart he gave a great shout and snowshoed quickly toward the sled to get his rifle.
By the time he reached the sled, the wolves had slunk back out of firing distance and up onto the banks of the river. Dropping to his knees he thanked the Lord and prayed for guidance.
There was another yelp from the dogs, and now he saw there were more wolves in his deserted camp spot! There seemed to be only one thing to do, and that was to get to the highway on snowshoes as quickly as possible, even though he hated to abandon the sled.
Unhitching the dogs, he put packs upon two of them, and taking his guns and two puppies himself, he left the sled with his possessions behind and started out with his dogs to make the remaining seven miles to the highway before dark. Utterly weary with his sleepless nights and exposure to the cold, the seven miles seemed endless, but he cheered himself along the way by singing, "Take your burden to the Lord."
Wolf, the largest husky kept scouting around instead of following the missionary closely, and suddenly he disappeared up a ravine. Shortly afterward there came a terrific howling as though he had been set upon by a pack of wolves. The missionary's heart was heavy as he felt Wolf had surely been outnumbered and killed.
It was growing dark again, and he pressed on desperately, knowing that he must make that highway. He could not stand another night of cold and sleeplessness. Then just before dark he sighted the highway-but away up on a five hundred foot cliff above him.
So near-and yet so far! It looked as though the steep cliff would be impossible to climb. There was snow on the sheer slopes, but it was soft and would slide under a climber's foot and cover him.
In utter weariness the missionary trudged on up the canyon, searching for a place he could possibly climb. Finally, he found a spot that looked as though he might be able to climb by making a desperate attempt. There was no place for snowshoes, so on foot, he sometimes sank waist deep into snow. Up and up he went, snatching at bushes for support, crawling up the steep sides of bare rock where the snow was blown away. Sometimes, sinking to his knees he would feel he surely had not the strength to go on, but after a moment's rest the Lord would enable him to try again. So, slipping, clambering-finally, life! They were on the highway!
Almost too weary to take another step, the missionary looked back over the way the Lord had safely brought them, down the steep, almost impossible cliff, and away back over the river valley where it seemed he could still hear the long, quavering howl of the wolves. He felt he could truly say with David, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me"- Psalm 23:4.
It was bitterly cold there on the windswept highway, but they did not have long to wait before a highway maintenance truck came along. Realizing that their rescue was at hand the missionary found he could not even climb into the truck, but kind hands lifted him in, along with his faithful huskies. Then he knew no more until eighteen hours later he awoke, and found he was at the Highway Patrol Station.
Three days later there came the good news that his sled had been spotted by a plane. And faithfully guarding it was Wolf-the husky he thought the wolves had surely eaten. They found his foot had been caught in a trap, but he had dragged the trap and the log it was fastened to, two miles back to the sled, where he waited for his master. Only one toe was lost.
After a short time of rest the experience in the deep glacier snow with the wolf pack was a thing of the past. But the missionary would never forget the Lord's faithful, loving care, and he was soon eager to start out again on another gospel trip.
On the Alaskan Trail: The Boy Dog-Team Trailblazer
The Boy Dog-team Trailblazer
Far up in the frozen northland, in an isolated village that can only be reached by airplane or dog-team in the winter, lives a fourteen-year-old Indian boy who is an expert dog-team driver, whom we call Paul. His dogs are so trained for the trail that they can tell the way even when there are no tracks in the snow.
This Indian boy, Paul, is not only an excellent guide over the trackless snow, but he has been able to guide many other Indians to the Lord Jesus for salvation.
Ten years ago Paul's uncle was saved through a missionary and moved to Paul's village where no one knew anything about the Lord Jesus, and where there was much drinking and sinfulness. There is more drinking in Alaska than in any other country of the world! As a result, many children are left homeless because their parents have either died or forsaken them because of liquor.
Paul's uncle became a real testimony in this needy village, but he was greatly persecuted. As always, many people preferred their sin to the Savior. No one seemed to care to listen to the wonderful story of the Savior's love for them, until one day Paul accepted the Lord Jesus as his Savior.
Paul was then twelve years old, and already a dog-team driver. Paul and his uncle enjoyed reading their Bibles together, and always they witnessed to others.
"Let us pray, Paul, and ask God to send a missionary here to explain the way of salvation to our people."
They agreed, and as they prayed, missionaries were praying, too. Finally a missionary felt he could make the trip.
The day before starting his journey northward, the missionary stopped in a cabin for shelter for the night. The rough bunk bed did not look too clean, so he slept upon a high table. Early the next morning, before he had quite roused he accidentally rolled off the table, and in falling struck a stool, miraculously missing breaking his neck. But he did break some ribs, and dislocated his shoulder, and had to wait there until some Army boys rescued him.
Two years passed before, the Lord finally opened the way again for him to try to make the trip with his dog-team. This time all went well, and the last day of the trip brought them in sight of the village in the late evening. What a cheerful sight it was in the dusk of the early northern night to see the light gleaming out across the snow from the native chief's cabin.
The door of the cabin was flung wide, and after stamping the snow from his feet and stepping inside, the missionary found a warm welcome. And not only a welcome, but great surprises were awaiting him.
The news that the missionary had arrived, spread in no time, and the villagers flocked to the chief's cabin. Soon the rooms seemed to be filled to overflowing, and as the missionary looked about at the glowing, happy faces, he could hardly believe he was in the village where there had not been one Christian and which so short a time ago had been noted for its wickedness and drinking.
Now the cabin was ringing with the joyous singing of gospel songs, and the missionary noticed that they were using the same song books he had left with the Indian boy ten years before. They were well worn, but had been faithfully cared for, and the missionary marveled, at how well the children and grown-ups had been taught to sing.
Then came the happiest surprise of all. The Indian Chief and many others began to give their testimonies of how they had been saved-saved through the faithful testimony and witnessing of Paul and his uncle. Many had been saved, and the whole town had been revived; liquor and cigarettes were no longer sold in the town. What wonderful things the Lord had done through a faithful young Indian and a boy dog-team driver.
During the days of his visit with them, the missionary found a hearty welcome in nearly every home, and how they did enjoy gathering together to study God's Word! How wonderfully God had answered the prayers of Paul and his uncle, and the missionaries! The missionary could not help but think, "This is the Lord's doing, it is marvelous in our eyes."
The last day the missionary had a children's meeting, and as the bright-faced children gathered, the missionary rejoiced to see how well cared-for they looked. They were not the neglected, sad-faced children that he often saw in the villages where drinking parents thought of nothing but satisfying their wicked thirst. What blessed changes the gospel had brought in this isolated village, far from civilization as we know it!
"May I break the trail for you when you leave?" Paul asked.
"I will be delighted, Paul," the missionary gratefully answered. "It will be so nice to have your company, and I have heard such good things about your expert trail blazing."
Paul grinned, embarrassed, but pleased, and so in the early dawn they started out together on the long trail to the Alaskan Highway. The air was crisp and cold, and their breath hung in frosty clouds about them. The dogs were eager for the trail, and soon there was the familiar hissing of the runners in the snow, and now and then a spark of light as a runner struck fire on a hidden pebble in the snow.
As the sun finally topped the mountains, it spread a rosy glow over the white snow, and seemed to set millions of diamonds to sparkling. Whenever Paul's team and the missionary's drew close enough to one another they would sing gospel songs together, and sometimes in the still morning air the echoes would seem to awaken and join them.
The missionary marveled at Paul's unerring sense of direction, and his well-trained dog-team. Through forests they went, across snow-covered frozen lakes, and through hidden passes that shortened the trip, never missing the trail though often there was no sign of it for miles where fresh snow had drifted and buried it.
Finally they reached the Alaskan Highway on a Saturday night, and found an inn. The next day the people at the inn begged them to have a Sunday school, for there were many children living near, and it had been a long, long time since they had had a Sunday school.
So Paul and the missionary had a happy day telling the good news of salvation to the children and older folk there, who crowded in to hear.
Their dog-teams parted the next day. The missionary waved good-bye to the Indian boy who had been such an excellent guide, and he rejoiced, as he knew he was going back to guide not only travelers across the snow, but his own people to the Lord Jesus Christ.
On the Alaskan Trail: The Boys Who Couldn't Sleep
The Boys Who Could Not Sleep
One cold winter day the missionary, with Pinky, his Gospel Husky, arrived in Chitina. It was only four o'clock, but already it was pitch dark. They had traveled many miles for several days. In some places the creeks had overflowed from the glaciers, making the icy trail so slippery they had to crawl on hands and knees.
They passed the place where a year before they had met a bear which had sat down upon his haunches and stared at them as though his curiosity had overcome his fear. Then suddenly he had scrambled to his feet and run. But this time they had seen no bears, for it was too cold. They had already found their dens in which to hibernate for the winter.
All was quiet in the little town of Chitina, far up in the cold interior of Alaska. The missionary had seen the thermometer drop down to eighty-seven below zero there, but there were heart-warming believers in the Lord Jesus Christ living in this town, and more who were eager to hear the story of salvation.
Copper River Indians who prefer being called "natives" live through this part of Alaska. There are three main native races in Alaska: the Eskimos who inhabit the northerly parts and the Bering Sea, the Indians scattered throughout much of the country, and the Aleuts, who live on the Aleutian Island chain.
The missionary and Pinky made their way through the dark village to the home where two young missionary women lived. A bright light shone out, welcoming them across the snow, reminding the missionary of the gospel light these two brave women were seeking to hold high in this lonely spot.
What a glad sight awaited him in the warm house! A big group of Indian boys and girls were there, studying their Bibles. They had come right from school, and, most of the children evidently were eager to know more of the Savior. They looked up with shy smiles of greeting as the missionary and Pinky came in.
Quite a few of the boys were not yet saved, and after a few moments the missionary noticed two of the older boys who did not seem to be interested in the class. They whispered to one another and giggled. Sometimes they would say something aloud in an undertone that he could not quite hear, but he knew they were making fun of the Word of God. His heart went out to these boys; he prayed that the Holy Spirit of God might do a mighty work in their hearts, and in all the village.
That night they had a meeting in the little log chapel at the top of the hill, and the children were all there again, with the grown-ups of the village. It was such a bitterly cold night that the cold was causing the ice on the lake to contract with a booming sound, yet even very elderly people braved the cold, and walked long distances to the meeting.
What a good time they had singing! Then it seemed God was really working in the hearts of the listeners as the missionary spoke. After the meeting when nearly all had left the log chapel, a ten-year-old boy, who was the son of a trapper, still waited. No one paid particular attention to the boy, as the missionaries did not realize why he was lingering.
"I want to be saved!" he suddenly burst out in almost agonizing earnestness.
The missionaries spoke to him, and as they quoted Scriptures concerning the Lord's death for him, and His love for him, they seemed to sink right into his very heart. When he realized that the Lord Jesus had finished the work of redemption necessary for his salvation when He died on the cross for him, and that all he needed now to do was to trust in Him, his face fairly glowed with joy.
The very next day this trapper's son shared this glad news with his friends, and another boy just his age came to the missionaries' home that afternoon after school, saying that he wanted to be saved, too.
These two boys brought the two unsaved boys with them that night who had made fun at the class in the missionaries' home two days before. The missionary spoke again of salvation and also told of the Lord's second coming for all who were saved.
The two unsaved boys went home that night, but they could not sleep. What if the Lord should come that night? They knew that they were not ready, and it would mean that they would be punished forever.
They were so miserable that they got up out of bed, and one boy peered out of the dark window.
"Look! Their lights are still on," he cried. Through the dark night they could see the lights in the missionaries' home still shining, so they quickly dressed and trudged over through the snow.
When the missionaries answered the knock on their door, they were surprised to see the two boys with earnest faces standing on their step. "Is something the matter?" they asked.
The boys were not laughing or making fun now. With tears in their eyes, they told how they wanted to be saved, and soon they were all rejoicing together with tears of joy, as they opened their hearts to the Lord.
Never again will these two boys make fun of those who believe-for now they, too, are telling other boys and girls about the Lord Jesus.
On the Alaskan Trail: In a Snow-Buried Village
In a Snow-buried Village
Far up along the ice-bound shores, above the Arctic Circle into Eskimo land, our missionary traveled with his dog-team. In the month of May one year, he and his dogs headed for the extreme west of Alaska, which is very near Siberia.
The ice was still frozen, and the dogs often had to pull up and down over tremendous ice mountains-mountains caused by upheavals in the ice. Always they had to keep a watchful eye for any exposed fresh breaks in the ice, for there was the great danger of the ice breaking off. If it did, they would float and drift away upon the little island of ice, called an "ice floe," perhaps far out into the Arctic Ocean.
At Wales they took a plane, and were soon soaring high above the clouds in the brilliant sunshine. The dogs calmly dozed or strolled about. Between breaks in the clouds the missionary could catch glimpses of mountains and great forests, and then as they flew across the wide Kotzebue Sound it looked like an unending world of frozen white.
Above the Arctic Circle, at Kotzebue, the plane landed, and the dogs, bored by their inactivity, eagerly jumped out. A missionary boy with his own dog-team met the missionary there, and together they started out on a hundred-mile trip to another mission station at Noorvik.
The missionary boy-guide loved the Lord Jesus-and he loved husky dogs. He was only twelve years old, and lived in a village where there are more husky dogs than people. There were about a thousand people in his village, and twelve hundred husky dogs. Winter lasts for nine months of the year above the Arctic Circle, so the people really need their dogs, and nearly every Eskimo family has their own dog team.
The trip to Noorvik was a happy one. The missionary and the boy had wonderful times as they sang together, and enjoyed the breath-takingly beautiful scenery God had created entirely unspoiled by the hand of man.
The Eskimo village was still buried in the month of May. In the middle of winter these towns are almost swallowed up, as tremendous snow drifts often cover every house and building. Each hut then looks like a rounded igloo, and a tunnel in the snow has to be dug down in order to find the door. Now the snow and ice was packed, but the village was still well buried in snow.
Unharnessing his dogs, the missionary placed gospel packs upon their backs. The packs contained Testaments, Sunday school papers and tracts, and were so arranged that anyone could help himself from each dog's pack. Soon crowds of curious children started following them around, and began to help pass out the gospel literature. Before long they were joining the missionary in singing gospel songs and choruses as they walked about the buried village. The older Eskimo people stopped their work to watch and to smile, and welcomed the gospel tracts and papers.
In another town, when the children first saw that the huskies were loosed, they screamed with fright and quickly scrambled to the roof of the nearest shed. Most husky dogs are half wild and often vicious, and it took a while to persuade them that these dogs were tame and would not harm them. Finally, they had faith enough to come down, and at last actually petted the Gospel Huskies.
Finally, the missionary arrived in the well-known city of Nome which is the Eskimo capital of the North. Here he found a sad little family of children in a deserted cabin, for their father and mother had both been put in the federal jail. This was another one of the many homes in Alaska ruined by the dreadful curse of drinking. Before this father began to drink he was the world's fastest dog-team racer known. Every year for many years he won the great Cape Nome Eskimo Dog Race.
But now he and his wife were in prison, and how hungry those little children were for the love of the Lord Jesus when the missionary first met them. They had thought that no one really cared for them, and it seemed too good to be true that the Lord Jesus had loved them enough to die for them.
The missionary was given permission to take the five youngest back to a splendid Children's Home, where loving hearts welcomed them and cared for them. The four little Eskimo sisters accepted the Lord as their Savior, and their little three-year-old brother, Jackie, already shows a sweet love for the One who loves him so much.
And now, the children of a famous dog-team racer are already starting out on a far more important race: "Looking unto Jesus!"
On the Alaskan Trail: Drifting Down the Yukon River
Drifting Down the Yukon River
Several years ago the missionary drifted alone in a little twelve-foot boat down the mighty Yukon River. Along the river were towns and villages that could be reached only by boat. It was early in the season, and his boat was the first one to brave the rocks and rapids after the winter ice and snow. Even the mail boat had not come down the river yet.
Imagine waiting all winter until the ice would melt in the river for your mailman to come-when some-times we find it hard to wait for tomorrow's delivery.
Sometimes swift rapids faced the missionary as he drifted down the river, and sometimes the wind whipped up the waves so high that they slopped into the boat. More than once he was marooned on a lonely island or shore until the wind died down.
Often he narrowly escaped tipping over when the swift current swept him toward large, fallen trees stretching out under the water from the banks. At times the banks along the river were twenty feet high, and went straight up so that there was no place that he could land. Sometimes the river had eaten into these banks and without warning they would cave in, sending a small landslide of dirt into the water that could easily upset a boat.
It was right after the ice break-up in May, that the missionary started down the river, and little icebergs were all about him in the icy water. Floating driftwood, too, was a hazard, for it more than once nearly upset his little boat. But perhaps the greatest danger was the whirlpools. As he drifted along, small whirlpools appeared around his boat, and then one time directly before him was a large whirlpool.
At this particular spot in the river many a prospector and trapper had lost his life. Once in the grasp of this large whirlpool a boat is swirled helplessly about in the current, and cannot escape tipping. Then the whirlpool sucks the person down, and down, and down.
Sighting this large whirlpool before him, the missionary with a prayer in his heart to the Lord, forced his boat quickly to the swift flowing current nearer the shore. The current tugged and pulled at the boat, as though unseen evil hands were intent upon drawing him into the grasp of the whirlpool. But the Lord had His stronger hand upon him, and guided him safely past the danger.
Drifting on swiftly, the missionary had to have every sense keenly wide awake, as now he must guide his boat sharply away from an unexpected jagged rock, and again guard against being squeezed between two small icebergs. Suddenly his oar was jerked from his hand as it was caught in some hidden snag. Snatching desperately for it, the water seemed to toss it up playfully-just out of his reach. With a sinking heart he watched it drift swiftly down on the racing current ahead of him.
Without that oar he was almost helpless against many of the dangers of the river. How could he reach safety with only one oar-let alone a village that needed the gospel?
"Dear Lord," he prayed, "Thou knowest how I need that oar, and the great danger I am in. Help me now, for Jesus' sake."
Immediately, the Lord answered his prayer, and brought to his mind what he should do. The oar was drifting down the current in much the same path he was now in and was already almost out of sight. But out in the middle of the river the current was much swifter. If he could get into that current, he would drift faster than the oar and overtake it.
Paddling with his one oar, he got into the rapid flow of the river. The current caught him and carried him swiftly downward at a dangerous pace. Should a floating piece of driftwood be in his path now he was going too swiftly to dodge it. But the Lord was with him, and before long he passed his oar. He continued on for several miles to give himself the advantage of enough time to get into position, and then paddled over into the quieter current into the path of the drifting oar.
As the oar neared him he steadied his boat with the other oar and prayerfully set himself to catch the drifting one. With a thankful heart he caught it. As he had done many times before, he marveled at the faithfulness of the Lord in hearing the cry of one of His own.
But the most thrilling part of his trip was the joy of landing at the fishing camps and native villages along the way. At one place all the Indian children came running as soon as they saw him coming. Great was the excitement-for this was the first boat they had seen since the summer before.
Knowing that they were all eagerly looking for the time when the mail boat would finally come, the missionary held out handfuls of Sunday school papers and tracts, as he called, "Mail! Mail from heaven for every one of you."
Older folk as well as children eagerly accepted them, for anything new to read was most welcome. The schoolteacher gave permission to use the schoolhouse for a meeting, and a curious crowd gathered. They knew no hymns or gospel songs, except for the carol, "Silent Night." So with this tune the missionary taught them to sing the words of John 3:16, and they were soon making the walls of the old schoolhouse ring with this and other choruses.
Using the blackboard, the missionary drew simple pictures to illustrate the gospel, and all seemed to listen with hungry hearts.
The missionary visited many towns along the river in this way. At one town the children followed him about the streets and paths, but he had to speak to them through an interpreter, for they knew no English at all.
Then one day he landed on a shore and had one of the happiest surprises of his whole life. A large group of children were waiting for him, for they had seen his boat coming, far up the river. As the missionary drew near enough to hear, he caught the strains of singing. As he came closer, he thought it sounded familiar. It was-they were singing a gospel hymn!
On the bank of the river the children were singing heartily, one chorus and hymn after another. As the missionary's boat touched the shore they were singing, "There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins, And sinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains!"
Standing in his boat, the missionary joined in with them, and how they made that good old hymn ring! Now it was the children's turn to have a joyful surprise when they found their visitor, too, knew and loved the Lord, and they fairly climbed all over him as they hung onto him, and went singing up the path.
After visiting so many dark villages where no one knew of the Lord, to find this welcome was a pleasant surprise, indeed! This was the town of Kokrines, and until recent years the people were staunch followers of the Old Russian Church, and would allow no missionary to ever visit them. In fact, they threatened their lives should they dare to come.
But an airplane missionary landed there in spite of their threats, and held meetings. The Holy Spirit wonderfully worked in the people's hearts, and they saw that this gospel was what they needed-they needed the Savior which the Old Russian Church had never given them. Every child in the village, and many grown-ups, received the Lord Jesus as their Savior.
Now this glad welcome awaited the missionary. And in his heart the desire to spread the gospel was greatly increased, that there might be many more bright spots for the Lord like this one, in the neglected, hard-to-reach villages of Alaska.
Andres and the "River People"
It was very quiet! Andres sat on a balsa log on the bank of the great Amazon River watching the water flow swiftly past him. A half dozen scrawny chickens, long-legged and quarrelsome, scratched about in the fenceless yard surrounding his home just behind him. Two very thin, long-nosed and long-tailed pigs were rooting in the dirt.
His home somehow looked a bit like the long-legged chickens, for it stood up high on stilts, and had a feathery-looking roof made of palm leaves. Steps leading up into the house were merely notches on a pole. But it was home to Andres, a black-eyed, black-haired Cocamilla Indian boy.
Dreamily he sat on the big log and gazed out over the broad river. Grandmother had taken the canoe and gone across the water to visit a friend. Father and Mother were at work on the farm.
Andres was too young to have many worries, but one thing did make him afraid at times. He would hear his people talk about the "River People."
The "River People"! Andres had always feared them as did all the Indians of their tribe. No one knew much about them, but they thought that they captured people to make them their slaves.
This morning as Andres sat and dreamed, he became aware of a rumbling and a great movement beneath him. The log began to move toward the river. It was a small landslide, and before Andres could flee to the safety of the bank, he found himself carried swiftly into the great stream.
Terrified, the poor boy clung to the log and screamed and cried for help. But all the while the powerful current was carrying him swiftly downstream. As fish nibbled his toes, and now and then a branch would strike his foot, he was terrified, thinking surely it was the dreaded "River People" trying to capture him!
An hour-two hours went by, and Andres was carried down the river, clinging desperately to his log. If the "River People" got him, where would his soul go to? Many thoughts went through his frightened mind as he was carried along on the swift water.
Back in the jungle garden Andres' father had heard the noise and his son's cries. Knowing that their canoe was gone he ran through the jungle to the next farm to get a boat. It was several hours before he finally reached Andres, fearfully but bravely still holding fast to his log.
With great rejoicing they returned up the river together, and how good it was to be safely home again at last! But Andres could never forget his experience.
One day he asked his father, "Where would my soul have gone, Father, if the 'River People' had taken me?"
"I do not know, my son," answered his father. "The priest no doubt can tell you."
"Can you tell me where my soul would have gone?" he asked the priest, but the priest could not say. For several years he asked many people that question, but no one could tell him.
Then one day, three years later, strange people moved into the nearby village of Lagunas. They were not Indians, but were white people. Andres and his parents soon realized that they had come to teach them things that they read from a black Book. This Book they said was from God in heaven, and it seemed to answer many questions that were in Andres' mind. He wondered, could it answer the question no one else had been able to answer, the question concerning where his soul would have gone if the "River People" had taken him?
These white people Andres learned were missionaries; and soon they began a Sunday school where they taught all who would come from their black Book, the Bible. Andres longed to have a Bible for himself, for it seemed, although he never missed Sunday school or a meeting, that he could not hear enough from this wonderful Book.
"The Bible has sixty-six books in it. It is good to know the names of all these books in their right order. I will give each one of you who learns the names of these books a Bible as a reward," the missionary announced one Sunday.
What wonderful news that was to Andres! The missionaries thought it would take the Indian children a long time to learn these names which were new and strange-sounding to them.
But the following Sunday Andres returned to say, "I have learned the names of the sixty-six books of the Bible!" and he was able to say them perfectly.
As Andres listened carefully to every message that he heard, and as he searched his Bible for himself, he found that there were two places his soul could have gone to had the "River People" taken him: either to heaven or to hell. As God's Holy Spirit convicted his heart of sin he realized that the place he would have gone to would have been hell.
For over a year, Andres longed to have his sins forgiven and to be sure he was going to heaven. Finally one day he came to the missionaries, and boldly asked, "Please, tell me, how can I get to heaven?" Gladly they told him that the Lord Jesus had come from heaven to save him, and had borne God's awful punishment for sin when He died upon the cross. Now all that Andres needed to do was to believe, and to receive.
"As many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name," God has said in John 1:12.
That night after Andres got home he opened the Bible the missionaries had given him.
"Verily, verily," he read, "I say unto you, he that heareth My Word, and believeth on Him that sent Me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life."
Andres' father was already asleep in bed, but Andres went to him and awakened him.
"Father, Father! Are you awake? I have found the answer to my question! I know now that my soul would have gone to hell if I had drowned in the river. But I have learned, too, that the Lord Jesus has died for my sins that I might go to heaven. Father, may I accept the Lord Jesus as my Savior?"
Startled awake, the father listened carefully to his boy. Perhaps he remembered his own terrible fear the day he thought surely his son would be drowned in the mighty river.
"Yes, my son, you may!" he answered.
With a heart full of rejoicing Andres received the Lord Jesus as His Savior that night. Later his father and mother, grandmother and sister accepted the Lord also.
Today Andres is preaching the good news of salvation to his own Indian people who are still living in fear of such evil spirits as the "River People."
"Will He Bite?"
"Oh, Daddy, will he bite?" cried Emmie, as the big brown man with the toothy smile and huge hat picked her up and carried her down the gangplank.
"No, my dear, he won't bite," smiled Daddy. "He is one of the people to whom we have come to tell the story of the Lord Jesus."
The brown man had not understood these English words, but he was surprised to have the frightened little girl in his arms suddenly smile as she gave him a hug and a kiss. For Emmie at that very moment had decided that if these strange new people were not going to harm her, then she was going to love them.
Emmie and her Daddy and Mother had just stepped from the boat that had brought them to the sunny land of Mexico, where there was no bread and butter for a hungry little girl, but plenty of bananas and corn meal. She had never seen a brown man before, so many things were new and strange. Daddy explained that they had come to live in this land to tell the people that the Lord Jesus loved them, and died for them that they might be cleansed from their sins in His precious blood, and then learn to love and serve Him.
Emmie was only six years old, but she soon learned the language and made many friends, for she was a happy little child, and really loved the Mexican people that lived about her.
Then a great sadness came to Emmie and her father. Her mother became sick, and the Lord Jesus took her home to heaven to be with Himself. Emmie was very lonely for Mother, and very sad so that she no longer sang her happy songs about Jesus, and did not even care to play, until Father gently explained that God had taken Mother to a wonderful land where she was very happy, and was waiting for them to come to be with her there. But until God called them to come, too, Mother wanted her little girl to serve the Lord Jesus and to tell others about Him and His love.
Then Emmie grew very eager to be a real missionary with her Daddy, and her first chance came soon.
One day her father came home without his horse, and with a bullet hole through his hat. What an exciting story he had to tell! He had been riding quietly along, intending to visit some Mexicans to tell them about the Lord Jesus, when suddenly-zing!! a bullet went right through his hat! The frightened horse bolted so quickly that he slid Daddy neatly off his back into the dust of the road, and away he went at a mad gallop.
Daddy ran quickly for a nearby clump of trees to hide, for he was quite sure they were bandits who had shot at him. Sure enough, peering from behind a pile of rocks he saw a man holding his gun ready to shoot again. As he slipped from tree to tree Daddy heard shouts, and knew there must be several of the bandits. Daddy prayed as he ran, and then, just a little way before him he saw a small hut.
Running as fast as he could, Father dashed to the hut. A small boy was sitting by the entrance in the sunshine. He had heard the shots, too, and knew that it must be bandits coming. He helped the missionary to hide under a pile of corn shucks in the corner without asking any questions, and then sat quietly in the doorway again.
"Say, Boy! Did a stranger come running by here?"
"I did not see anyone!" answered the boy.
The missionary waited almost breathlessly under the corn shucks until he could no longer hear voices. When even the clomp of horses' hoofs died away, he crawled out cautiously from his cover. The boy was still sitting quietly in the warm sunshine.
"How can I thank you for helping me, my boy?" the missionary asked.
"That was nothing, Senor!" smiled the boy. "I was glad to be able to help you escape from those bad men."
"I am sorry, though, that you lied to the men, in telling them that you did not see me. No matter how extreme the trouble we should not lie, for that is not pleasing to God."
"Oh, but I did not lie," the boy answered quickly. "You see, I did not see you-for I am blind."
Looking more closely at the boy's eyes which were turned his way, Emmie's father could see that there seemed to be a film over them.
It was growing late, and Emmie's father knew he must hurry home to Emmie before it grew dark. Not staying to talk any longer, he thanked the boy again and hurried home. But he could not forget the little blind boy that the Lord had used to save him from the bandits, and as he finished telling the story to Emmie she cried, "Oh, Daddy! Do take me to see that little boy, and let me take my music box to him! He can hear the songs even if he can't see, and we can tell him about the Lord Jesus!"
So a few days later after the run-away horse had returned, Daddy got the saddle out, and with Emmie sitting up in front of him, holding the precious music box, they rode away to visit the blind boy. They found him again sitting on his doorstep in the sun, and his mother was busy in the kitchen.
They kindly received Emmie and her father, though the mother apologized for their poor home, saying her husband had died, and she was scarcely able to make a living for herself and her son.
Pedro, the boy, was delighted with the music box! Though he could not see, he found he could operate it easily, and he and Emmie had a happy time listening to it together. Then while Father spoke to the mother about the Lord Jesus, Emmie told Pedro about God's love for him. Pedro had not heard this wonderful story before, and he listened carefully as Emmie quoted John 3:16, "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."
Then they stopped to listen as they heard Emmie's father asking if a doctor had ever looked at Pedro's eyes.
"Oh, no!" the mother answered. "They would want too much money, and we are so poor. Anyway, it would likely do no good; the boy was born blind."
Emmie remembered the story in the ninth chapter of John in the Bible about the man who had been born blind, so she said, "Jesus can make him see! There was a man in the Bible who was born blind, too, and the Lord Jesus put clay on his eyes and told him to wash in the pool of Siloam. He did, and he could see right away! Daddy, let's pray for Pedro!"
On another visit Father talked again to Pedro's mother. "I would really like very much to take Pedro to the big city to see a good doctor! Perhaps something can be done for him, at least we can try. It will not cost you anything, for I would like to do it for Pedro in return for his having saved my life when the bandits might have shot me. May I take him to a doctor?"
The mother finally said yes, and Pedro was taken away to a hospital in the city. Daddy and Emmie were praying that God would not only help Pedro to see, but that the eyes of his heart would be opened, too, and that he would accept the Lord Jesus as his Savior.
A good doctor operated upon Pedro's eyes, and then for a few weeks he lay with bandages over his eyes. Daddy and Emmie visited him often, and he loved to hear them tell about the wonderful Lord Jesus. One day he very simply took the Lord Jesus as his Savior as he realized that it was for his sins that He had died upon the cross!
Then came the day when the bandages were taken away! Quietly the nurses and doctor stood watching Pedro, and Daddy and Emmie were so excited they could scarcely breathe! Suddenly a look of wonder came over his face.
"Oh! I can see!" he cried, "Jesus has made me see!"
As they took Pedro home, what a joyful little boy he was! Over and over he would say, "Jesus made me see! I was blind, but now I see! I must love Him because He first loved me!"
Emmie was almost as happy as Pedro! It gave her such great joy to think that little Pedro who had saved her father's life, not only now could see, but could say that Jesus had saved him!
The Lord Jesus said: "I am the light of the world: he that followeth Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." John 8:12.
"One thing I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see." John 9:25.
Dewin, the Crippled Fisher-Boy
"Brother, it is time to beat the drums!" Dewin called.
Far across Lake Bangweulu the sun was rising, and soon the drums were rolling out their summons. The peculiar rhythmic, penetrating, haunting sounds of the drums of Central Africa can never be forgotten, especially as they sound in the still morning air.
In a few moments a crowd of people gathered at Dewin's door; his brother lifted Dewin to his position before the people. When everyone was gathered, Dewin began a hymn of praise to God, and all sang joyously and heartily. Then opening his Bible, Dewin read a portion, explaining it simply, telling all who were listening how much the Lord Jesus meant to him, and what wonderful things He could do for them!
Soon the' short meeting was over, and the people scattered to their homes, and to their fishing.
Dewin's home was on an island-little more than a mud bank-in the swampy part of Lake Bangweulu. The little island was densely populated, as are all the other islands in the Lake, which is over half swamp. Everyone fished, yes, even Dewin!-the little crippled boy-but he fished for men and women, boys and girls!
The people who live in the swamps are called BaUnga, or BaTwa. They are very primitive people. Some older people still wear the skins of water antelopes which have been pounded and worked until they are soft, and then decorated with typical native African designs. The hairy side they wear next to their bodies for warmth, for life in the swamps, even in the tropics, can really be chilly with the extreme moisture and dampness everywhere. The mud floors of their huts are always moist and soft, and a white man walking in the hut, will leave the marks of his shoes upon the floor. But the African's bare foot soon pounds it smooth again.
The native huts are very simply built of the reeds that grow everywhere in the swamps. They twine and braid them together like a huge basket, and then the walls are mudded over with mud dug from a hole where they know the mud has suitable sticking qualities. Not all mud will do, for should there be sand in it, it would crumble and drop off when it dried. The roofs are made of grass that soon becomes blackened and dark from the smoke that seeps out through them.
Outside the hut on the little verandah will be found the African's tools and weapons. There are the nets, the three pronged fishing spears-the prongs barbed so that once the fish is speared he cannot wriggle off again-the shallow baskets the women use for their particular kind of fishing, the larger fish traps, and perhaps a rough kind of harpoon that is used for spearing hippopotamus, will all be there.
The huts are packed closely together-so closely that their eaves overhang one another.
And, my! what a "fishy" place it is! Fish are drying out in the sun on the roofs and on racks made from reeds in any available open space. Fish are smoking over the smoldering fires within the huts on racks that seem to not only cover the fire but almost completely fill the hut. The natives sleep under the edge of this rack at night, and no one seems to mind the fish grease that drips and sputters over him! Fish heads and remains are thrown out behind the huts, and the whole village has a very "fishy" smell and appearance indeed!
Everyone fishes! African men and boys sometimes use their nets, and sometimes use their spears. The African will stand poised in the bow of his canoe, spear in hand. There is a sudden flash, as quick as lightning the spear darts down into the water, and then, up it comes with a wriggling, glistening fish upon it!
The women go to the swampy parts near the village with their shallow baskets made with a very close mesh. They usually go in groups of twenty or more at a time. They put their baskets in a line, and then, moving in mud and water up to their waists, trampling and shouting, they tread the mud and water on the sides of the baskets that are opened. Then they quickly scoop them up to see what they have caught. They catch mostly the small fish this way, and spend hours treading about in the swamp until they have enough for the evening meal.
Sometimes they get bitten by snakes as they pound through the grass, and then there are leeches, and other biting insects! But they go laughing, shouting, and singing all the while! When they have finished, whole areas are trodden down, muddy, and unpleasant to see; and most of the baby fish are gone too.
Everyone fishes-everyone it would seem-except Dewin! Dewin has never been able to run and hunt and fish like other boys. When you see him sitting in the doorway, you will see that his face is normal, unusually bright and happy. But his body is tiny, and dreadfully misshapen! He is so deformed that he cannot move from any spot without help.
If you see Dewin's face, you will look again! His shining eyes and pleasant smile, his bright intelligent look are most striking. For in spite of the fact that he is so deformed and helpless, and can in no way live a normal life, Dewin has no complaints. Rather, he finds life most joyous!
This is most unusual, for among the natives some misfortune of this nature is usually thought to have been caused by some other person, or persons, through witchcraft, or some other means. The afflicted person broods continually over his unhappy state, wondering how he can bring revenge!
But Dewin is different-he no longer bothers to inquire why?-but just accepts it as it is, realizing God has a purpose in it for good. He seeks to enjoy his life, and to use what powers he has, for Dewin has much fishing to do, too!
Dewin has found the Lord Jesus as his Savior, and has such a rich life of satisfying fellowship with Him that he has much to pass on to others! There are not many in the village who can read, so they gladly answer the drum summons in the mornings to meet about Dewin's door to listen to the Word of God.
During the day while the others are working or fishing, Dewin can only sit in the doorway of his little hut. But he has his New Testament there, and other little books that have been given to him. He sits and reads and meditates, and chats with those who pass by his door or come to call upon him. So Dewin fishes for human souls, and is able to give heavenly counsel to those who need it!
Dewin might have been tied, and laid in the path of an army of red ants, who would have swarmed over him by the millions, gradually eating him to a skeleton, for Africans usually have no use for the old or the helpless members of their communities, and many have died in this way. But the gospel has made that difference for Dewin! Normally he would have been despised and unwanted. But the gospel has so changed Dewin on the inside-that the outside doesn't matter!
Dewin is a loved and respected person in the village, though he is but a crippled boy, and the influence of the gospel in the village has been so great that they are willing to keep him-to feed and clothe him-that he might help them in understanding the ways of God!
Truly Dewin is busy fishing, too!
Truly the gospel is the power of God unto salvation!
The Wallpaper That Talked
Grandmother San and little Koto San sat sipping their tea one chilly fall day. Tiny box stoves with bits of burning charcoal in them were on their laps, little quilted blankets were across their shoulders, and they sat on their feet to keep them warm!
"My, but I wish I had enough money to buy some new wallpaper!" Grandmother said thoughtfully between sips of tea.
"Oh, yes, let's get some, Grandmother!" cried Koto San eagerly. "Maybe it wouldn't cost too much, and it would be nice to have some pretty new paper! Please, do try to get some!"
"Ai yah! It is hard to be so poor. We really do need the paper, for it would make the room warmer for the winter, but I'm afraid that I can get nothing with the little bit of money that I have!"
The next morning Grandmother proudly watched Koto San as she skipped away to the mission school. Koto San was a bright little girl, and already she could read better than many other children her age. Grandmother had wondered if she were doing right when she first allowed her to go to the school, for the priests had taught her to hate the "foreign devils" as they called the missionaries. But Koto San must have an education, and it was the cheapest way Grandmother knew of. To soothe her conscience Grandmother had forbidden Koto San to ever bring home the "foreign devil's terrible book"-the Bible.
Koto San had learned to love the Lord Jesus as she had heard about Him from the missionaries, and often she longed to tell Grandmother how the wonderful Lord Jesus loved her, too, and had died for her sins. But she was afraid Grandmother might no longer allow her to go to the mission school, so she kept her secret in her heart, and prayed for her Grandmother.
After Koto San was gone Grandmother put on her bright kimona with its big sleeves and wide sash. Taking her bit of money she hurried away on her tiny feet to the market.
What a busy, noisy place it was! And, oh-what wonderful things there were to buy-if only one had the money! At the shops that sold wallpaper Grandmother was thrilled with the lovely paper she saw, but again and again she shook her head. It was just as she feared, she did not have enough money!
Turning sadly homeward, Grandmother walked more slowly. As she passed a neat little house she noticed what a lovely grassy lawn it had. True, it was but a tiny strip of grass, but most houses near the market had none at all.
What was that lying upon the grass? Could it be a box? Had someone thrown it away?
Grandmother looked up and down the narrow street. No one was in sight. Crossing the lawn quickly, she stooped and picked up the box. Opening it cautiously she peeked inside.
Oh! Oh! How wonderful! The box was full of paper-paper that had pretty writing marks all over it that meant nothing to Grandmother who could not read! The sheets of paper were not large, but there were so many of them that perhaps there would be enough to cover the walls of her room!
Once again Grandmother looked up and down the street, then again at the little house. No one seemed to be watching. Anyway, the box seemed to have been thrown away, Grandmother reasoned with her conscience. Though why would anyone throw away a whole box of such pretty paper?
Without waiting any longer she tucked the box into her big sleeve, and holding it close to her side, she hurried home as fast as her feet would take her.
Mixing the paste took but a few moments, and when little Koto San returned home from the mission school, Grandmother had quite a bit of one wall already papered.
"Oh, Grandmother, how nice!" she cried happily. "You did get some paper, and such pretty paper! I have never seen wallpaper just like this before!"
Koto San went closer to the wall, and suddenly she caught her breath! For a moment she looked frightened as she glanced quickly at Grandmother, and then back at the paper. Grandmother was calmly going on with her work. Koto San's eyes began to twinkle and sparkle! In fact, she had to clap one hand tightly over her mouth lest the secret jump right out-for Koto San knew something about that paper that Grandmother did not.
Grandmother was pasting the Bible-the "foreign devil's book"-on her walls! Because Grandmother could not read she did not know that the box of paper she had found was a Bible. Koto San could hardly keep from dancing up and down on her toes with joy. Why, now she would not need to feel sorry she could not bring her precious Bible home, for there it would be, all over the walls, just waiting for her to read it!
"Please, Honorable Grandmother," she said politely and eagerly. "May I help you put it on the walls, too? I shall do it ever so carefully and nicely. Perhaps I could put it down lower where it would hurt your back to reach."
Grandmother said she might if she were careful not to spill the paste or spoil a single piece of the precious paper. So Koto San hunted eagerly through the Bible for her favorite stories and Scripture passages. In fact, she was so eager to get the parts that she loved the most before Grandmother did that the work went very quickly indeed!
It took them several days to finish the room, but when they did finish, Grandmother and Koto San surveyed their work proudly. My, it did look nice!
"And to think it didn't cost me anything!" Grandmother was thinking.
"And to think I can read the Bible whenever I wish!" Koto San was thinking.
After that, as they sat sipping their tea together, Koto San would sit close to the wall so she could read. Often she wished she dared to tell Grandmother her secret, but suppose that Grandmother would tear the paper from the wall if she knew!
One day Koto San thought, "I'll tell her just a little bit, and see if it makes her angry."
"Grandmother-sometimes as I sit here drinking tea the wallpaper talks to me!"
"Talks to you? Why, what nonsense, child!" She turned to look at the wall beside her. "I cannot hear anything. Who ever heard of wallpaper talking?"
"But it does!" insisted Koto San.
"Well, what does it say if it talks to you?" Grandmother asked unbelievingly.
"Well," began Koto San slowly, "right here it tells how the great God up in heaven made the sun, moon, and the stars, and all the wonderful world we live in!" and she read to Grandmother from the first chapters of Genesis.
"How wonderful!" Grandmother exclaimed, hardly able to believe it. "Does it really say that? How strange that I cannot hear it talk!" and she bent her ear to the wall. "Does it say anything else?"
"Oh, yes! It tells me here how God made and put the first people in this wonderful world, and how He blessed them. But one day they disobeyed God and did very wickedly!" and Koto San read to Grandmother the sad story of how sin entered the world when Adam and Eve listened to Satan and disobeyed God by eating of the tree He had forbidden them.
"Ai yah! Ai yah! How sad! Does the wallpaper say God punished them?"
"God said they must surely die. If they had not disobeyed, they would have lived forever!"
"Does the wallpaper tell more? Something about that story talks to my heart, too, for my heart is sometimes wicked! Must God punish me too?" Grandmother wondered softly. "We must listen again tomorrow and see if it will tell us more."
After that Grandmother was eagerly awaiting Koto San's return from school to tell her more that the wallpaper had to say, and Koto San gladly read on and on. So it was, in time, that Grandmother learned the good news that God sent His Son into the world to die for all who had sinned against Him. When she learned that God loved her, and that she could accept His Son as her Savior, she trembled for joy! Could these wonderful words be true?
Then one morning after Koto San had run away to school, she put on her pretty kimona again, and hurried away down the street. The burden on her heart to know whether this wonderful love story were true or not had grown so great that she had decided she must find out today! And who would be able to tell her if not the priest, who knew all things about the gods?
At the temple door she timidly knocked, then bowed low when the priest appeared, calling him a most wonderful, honored being, and herself a worthless bit of mud! Then with the words fairly tumbling over one another she began to tell him of the wonderful wallpaper that talked!
As the priest listened to the story of the Lord Jesus he drew himself erect, and with a cold glitter in his eyes suddenly interrupted her story with the words, "It is the 'foreign devil's book' you have upon your walls!" and in anger he slammed the door before her face!
Grandmother stood trembling. Was that really what was on her walls-that terrible Book? But somehow she could not feel angry! Why-why-if that were the Bible, that was a good Book! Every word she had heard was holy and good, and made her heart hate sin, and long to be clean. Oh, if only it were true! She turned toward home with her head drooping and tears slowly dropping on the dusty street.
Then a thought came to her. Perhaps the people who lived in the house where she had found the Book could tell her if the story were true. Would they be angry, too, and think she had stolen the Book? But Grandmother was so anxious to have her questions answered that she went bravely on to the little house.
When a foreign white woman opened the door, Grandmother almost lost her tongue. For a moment she forgot her politeness and could only stare at the green eyes and hair the color of straw. But the lady was smiling and inviting her in, and before Grandmother knew it, she was sitting on a couch and pouring out her story again. The missionary listened quietly until Grandmother finished, and then she went to a table and came back with her Bible in her hand to sit beside Grandmother. As she opened the Book, Grandmother grew more excited.
"There it is! That's just the same as my wallpaper! Oh, tell me-please, tell me, is it true? Does God really love me?"
With joy in her face the missionary cried, "He does! He does! See here, Tor God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life'! And He says, 'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out'!"
Before the missionary could say much more Grandmother was on her knees, weeping her thanks to God for loving a poor old Japanese woman enough to send the Lord Jesus to die for her sins.
Then getting quickly to her feet she said, "I am sorry, but I must go quickly now. Thank you, oh, thank you for all you have told me!" and she hurried away with a shining face.
When Koto San got home, Grandmother met her at the door.
"Oh, Koto San! What do you think I found out today? Our wallpaper is really the Bible!"
For a moment Koto San was frightened, but then she saw the joy on Grandmother's face.
"And best of all, Koto San," she hurried on to say, "I found out that it is true! It is all true! Oh-this is too good news to keep to ourselves! No one else in all of Japan has wallpaper that talks! Listen, little Koto San, run up and down the street and knock on all of our neighbors' doors, and invite the ladies to come to our house for a cup of tea, and to listen to the wallpaper talk."
Koto San gladly obeyed, and soon a curious circle of Japanese women sat in their little room sipping fragrant tea and listening in wonder to the wallpaper talk as Koto San read to them.
"Truly, it is wonderful!" they said. "It is wonderful that you have wallpaper that talks, but it is even more wonderful that it tells us such good things of a God that loves us."
"We will gladly come again," they said as they left. And so it was that many little gatherings were held in Grandmother's tiny house as women came in to hear the wonderful things the wallpaper had to say.
The Snake That Could Not Bite
"The Name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it, and is safe. "-Proverbs 18:10.
One time a missionary had a very exciting experience with a big poisonous snake, and the Lord proved how wonderfully He could fulfill this promise for him! Listen while he tells it: "One day I was riding on my bicycle in Central Africa. In this part of Africa there are no roads-just narrow, winding footpaths with tall grass and 57 bushes on either side. When a tree falls down, the Africans go around it. After many years, and many trees falling, you can imagine how full of turns these paths can be! Because these paths are so crooked, a person cannot go fast on his bicycle. Then, too, he never knows when he may come upon a fallen tree across the path, and if he cannot stop in time he might break his bicycle or hurt himself.
"This day I was riding along slowly, looking for villages where the people had never heard of Christ, in order to tell them how the Lord Jesus Christ, God's Son, died to save them from their sins. Coming suddenly to a path that was three or four feet wide, and unusually straight, I thought, Now I can go faster. What a dandy path this is!'
"Speeding along, I suddenly saw before me a huge snake! He was stretched right across my path! I was going too fast to stop, so there was only one thing to do-and that was to ride over it!
" 'Bump, bump!' the two tires went over it.
"I became so excited that I fell off my bicycle about twenty or thirty feet beyond the snake. The maddened snake darted for me!
"Within reach of where I fell there was a dead piece of tree branch. I grabbed this branch and struck at the snake-but missed it! I wondered why the Lord let me miss it, when I was in such danger!
"The snake immediately caught the stick, and I could hear it crunching it in its mouth! It was now only three or four feet from me. The crunching stopped, and it raised its head about three feet in the air and started to sway to strike at me. I expected any moment to be in terrible agony of death. The seconds seemed like minutes while I waited, helpless upon my knees before it!
"There was only one thing now that I could do, and that was to cry to the Lord for help!
"The snake lay coiled, swaying to strike, but still hesitating to do so. All at once I noticed that there was something peculiar about the snake's mouth, which was wide open. Then to my great surprise, I saw that there was a piece of wood stuck in the jaw of the snake, so that it could not close its mouth!
"I had tried my best to hit the snake with the piece of branch, but the Lord had allowed me to miss it for a much better purpose of His own! Had I struck the snake, perhaps I should have angered it the more! But God used my miss in order to allow that snake to bite into the wood, and He permitted a piece of the wood to catch in its jaws, making the snake powerless to bite me!
"When I saw this, I quickly scrambled to my feet and found another stronger branch. With a few hard blows the snake was soon killed!
"How wonderfully the Lord heard my prayer, and protected me from death that day! Truly, 'The Name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous runneth into it, and is safe.'
"This day I did not run into it. I guess I fell into it-but I was safe just the same! God always keeps His word, and we can safely trust in Him!"
When Kempi Ran Away
Peeping at the missionary shyly from behind her brother, Kempi smiled timidly. She saw a woman with brown hair, blue eyes, white skin, and a very friendly smile. Looking at Kempi, the missionary saw a dear, little Brahman girl with big dark eyes, a fair skin, and hair that was black and shiny with coconut oil; and when she smiled, the missionary saw teeth that were beautifully white from many brushings with charcoal.
"How nice that you have come to our Sunday school," smiled the missionary. "We hope you will like it so much that you will come with your brother every single Sunday."
They found seats with other children, and soon the happy singing began. From beginning to end the Sunday school hour seemed wonderful to Kempi. She was sorry when it was over, and it seemed a long time to have to wait for the next Sunday to come. After that Kempi seldom missed a Sunday, and she soon loved the missionaries dearly. As she learned of the love of the Lord Jesus for her, she gladly received Him as her Savior, and her big eyes would fill with tears as she thought of all He had suffered on the cross for her sins.
Then one Sunday she did not come to Sunday school. The next Sunday came, and still she did not come. Sunday after Sunday went by, and the missionaries missed Kempi's sweet little face, so one day one of the missionaries decided to visit her village to see if she could find out what was the trouble.
After asking a few questions she found Kempi's home. It was just a little mud hut with a roof of straw. The floors and walls were of mud, and there were no windows, just the door. And there on the dirty floor lay Kempi, very sick with malaria fever. Her black, shiny hair was snarled and matted, and she looked so dirty and miserable.
The missionary learned that Kempi was living there with an aunt, for her mother had died some time before. No one seemed to have the time or the desire to care for the sick little girl, so the missionary asked, "Kempi, wouldn't you like to come to our nice, clean hospital at the mission station where we can take care of you and help you get better?"
"Oh, yes," Kempi whispered.
So the missionary hurried out, and found a man with an old bullock cart that she was able to hire to take Kempi to the mission station. They laid Kempi carefully on her mat of straw in the cart, and after a bit of coaxing, prodding, and twisting of the bullock's tail, the bullock began the journey to the mission station. It was only a mile away, but the shaky old cart groaned and creaked as it jolted over the ruts in the road. The slow trip must have been painful to little Kempi already so sick and aching with fever, but she kept her lips bravely closed and did not cry.
At the hospital loving hands bathed Kempi and then put her into a clean bed. How good it felt to her hot little body! Then she was given some medicine, and some good milk, and soon she was sleeping restfully. The relatives who had followed the bullock cart to the hospital watched carefully all that the missionaries did for Kempi. They were high-caste people, and in India a high-caste person must only eat food that they themselves have prepared-they must not even drink water that a white person gives to them.
But in a little kitchen back of the hospital the relatives were allowed to prepare food for Kempi with a few careful suggestions from the missionary doctor. Every day the missionary read to little Kempi from God's Word.
"Read me more about the Good Shepherd," she said, one day. "His words are like gold to my ears."
She grew better each day, and how happy they all were when she was finally able to be up for a little while! But then her relatives said, "It is time for us to take Kempi home."
How the missionaries hated to see her go, for they longed to keep her with them that they might teach her more of the Savior and His Word. In her own home she would be surrounded by much sin and wickedness, and her own people would try to make her worship their heathen gods. But the missionaries could not keep her, so she returned home.
One day when she was about thirteen years old her aunt said, "Kempi, you are old enough to be married. A husband has been chosen for you, and you are to go to his house to live."
"Oh, no!" Kempi cried in a startled voice. "I do not want to get married yet! Oh, why must I?"
"Nonsense, Kempi," her aunt replied angrily. "Many girls, much younger than you are have been betrothed and are living in their husband's home serving their mother-in-law. How long do you think I must keep and feed you?"
Kempi could not answer. How well she knew this was true! Many girls much younger than she were nothing but slaves to their mother-in-law, and were never free to run and play.
"He is a fine man," her aunt said, "about thirty years old, and I am sure he will treat you kindly if you behave yourself."
At least he was not a real old man, as some little girls' husbands were, she thought sadly to herself. Then she whispered, "Is he a Christian?"
"I should say he is not!" answered her aunt. "He is one of our own caste, a fine Brahman!"
"But I cannot marry someone who is not a Christian. God's Word says that is wrong."
"We shall see about that! You shall marry this man whom we have chosen. You forget that the choice is not yours to make."
As is the custom, a girl in India often lives in her husband's home, serving his mother until she is old enough to marry him. So one day Kempi was taken to the home of the man whom she was to marry, although she still insisted that she could not marry him. She found the man was a sullen, unhappy person, and he and his mother were very cruel to Kempi, thinking they would force her to obey them, and marry him. Often she was beaten, and her hair was pulled, and from morning until night she had to work very hard.
One morning she arose early as usual, and was sent out with a basket to get some firewood. As she hurried along with her basket she wished she could just walk on, and on, and never go back to that dreadful house.
Well, why not do just that? She was beside the railroad tracks which she knew led to the village where the mission station was. She would run away to the missionaries. Pulling the basket down over her head so no one would recognize her if they saw her, she began to run down the tracks to the distant village. It was many miles, but finally she reached the mission station and met the missionary who had been so kind to her when she was sick.
"Why, Kempi dear! Where did you come from?" cried the missionary when she saw the weary little girl.
"I ran away," answered Kempi simply. "They said I must marry a man who was not a Christian, and I could not. So I came to you."
The missionary asked a few questions, and soon she had the whole, sad story. As the missionary looked to God for guidance she felt she must try to save her.
"It would not be safe for you to stay here now, for they may come here to look for you. In fact, they may be coming at any moment if anyone saw you coming here, and has told them. I will hide you, and then tonight will take you to a safer place."
So Kempi was hidden under the missionary's bed until it grew dark. Then the missionary dressed her in clothes that made her look like a Mohammedan girl instead of a Brahman. At midnight they started out on their journey, riding in a Jutka, which is a small carriage drawn by a pony. The moon was shining brightly, and they could see the rice fields and groves of coconut palms and banyan trees almost as plainly as in the daylight. The missionary could not help but wish it were a little darker, and she prayed continually that the wicked men from Kempi's village would not catch them.
Arriving at another village, they took a train. Here Kempi hid under the long seat, for she still did not feel safe. At another stop they changed to a bus, and finally after a long ride they reached a girls' school in Bangalore. They gladly welcomed Kempi, and she was soon tucked into bed and sleeping soundly.
After three months it seemed safe to bring her back to the mission station, and how happy Kempi was to be with her dear friends again. She did all she could to be helpful, and was a real testimony for the Lord.
One happy day she was baptized, and it gave her much joy to let all know in this way that she belonged to the Lord and wanted to live for Him. The Christian friends decided to change her name, for Kempi was the name of a heathen goddess. They chose Jaja for her, which means "victory" in the Kanarese language.
Other happy days were in store for her, too. After a few years passed she and a native Christian schoolteacher fell in love with one another and were happily married. Now they have a little family of their own which they are seeking to bring up for the Lord.
Teasing a Spider
In Central Africa there are some very large hairy-legged spiders. Some of them are almost as large as a saucer, and have two horn-like fangs for injecting poison. Many of the Africans say that their bite is as bad as a snake bite!
Would you like to hear the missionary tell about an experience he had with one?
"One day when I went into the kitchen I saw one of those huge spiders! So I hurried away and brought back my spear.
"Standing about five feet from the spider, I began to play with it. I touched it lightly with the end of my spear. After doing this several times, I noticed the spider started to stand up higher. I took the spear, touched it again, and then stood the spear about six inches from my leg.
"Suddenly the spider stood up on its two back legs and leaped toward me! Five feet through the air it came, and landed upon the spear! Clinging to the spear it tried again and again to inject its poison into it, until I could see the poison running down the spear handle!
"When I saw that my leg was only six inches away from the spear, how glad I was that the Lord had given this little creature the ability to aim straight! I was glad, too, that the spider knew that it was the spear that had teased it, and not my leg! I then tramped on it, and killed it.
"How foolish I was to play with such a dangerous thing! You boys and girls would perhaps know better than to do that. But are you playing with an even more dangerous thing?-are you playing with sin?
"Sin is a deadly plaything! Is just one lie, just one filthy story, just one disobedience so dangerous? Yes, for God says these things are sin, and, 'The soul that sinneth, it shall die'!
"The only way we can get rid of these dangerous things in our lives is through accepting the Lord Jesus as our Savior. Then His blood cleanseth us from all sin.
"A few years ago an African came into our part of the country with a box of snakes. He would take them out, and play with them, and put them back into his box again. He claimed that the heathen god he worshiped would not let these snakes harm him.
"Many of the villagers were afraid of him, and would give him clothes and things to eat if he would keep the snakes from harming them. He made his living in this way-playing with dangerous things!
"About a week after he left our village he went to another place about twenty miles from us. There he took his snakes out again, and began to play with them. Then as he was picking them up to return them to the box, one of the deadly snakes bit him. There was nothing the frightened people could do for him. Within a half hour the man died after most terrible pain!"
Do not play with sin, dear young reader. The Lord Jesus will save you from sin's penalty and from its power. He is waiting for you to come to Him and ask, 1 is forgiveness; for, "If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." 1 John 1:7.
Little Cloud’s Pennies
"Hold out your hand, dear!"
Hsiao Yun (Little Cloud) felt her fingers close tightly over a shiny penny. "Hsieh hsieh! We pu p'ei!" she cried politely. She was saying, "Thank you. I am unworthy."
Hsiao Yun was the little four-year-old daughter of Mr. Hu, the gatekeeper at the mission compound. She lived with her parents, her brother Tung (Winter), and her older sister Ping-an (Peace), in a little two-room cottage close to the gates of the compound. She played a lot in the tiny front yard, but mostly she played around the big gates, watching the people entering or leaving.
Sometimes when the missionary or his wife were going out or coming in, they would give her one or two pennies, thinking naturally that she spent them on candy or on the sugared apples children dearly love in Manchuria.
Hsiao Yun played happily through the spring and summer and early fall. Then it was that the missionary had some special meetings to try to get the Christians to have an "All the World Heart." He spoke especially about India, and of the need of the Indian children to hear the Word of God.
Autumn changed into winter, and with winter came that biting, bitter cold of Manchuria. With it, too, came Hsiao Yun's birthday, when she became five years old. Then one day, when she was playing in the yard and about the drafty gateway, she caught a cold. Mrs. Hu, her mother, thought it was just an ordinary cold, but it quickly developed into pneumonia. Everything possible was done for her, but the missionary and his wife and her own parents soon saw that there was no hope. She was sinking fast.
One day as they stood beside her bed Hsiao Yun sat up and said, "Mother, I'll meet you in heaven," and she passed quietly into the arms of her loving Savior.
It was evening. A bright fire burned in the stove, and the curtains were drawn, shutting out the dark and cold. A lighted lamp was standing on a table, and the missionary and his wife were sitting near the fire, talking over the happenings of the day. Suddenly the quietness of the evening was broken by someone knocking at the door. The missionary opened it, and in the light which flooded the doorway he saw poor Mrs. Hu standing there, crying.
"Come in," he invited, and on entering she went straight to his wife and offered a small soap-box to her. With tears streaming down her cheeks, and a voice choked with emotion, she said, "Hsin-niang (Teacher's wife), my little Yun before she died gave me these pennies, which she had saved up, all unknown to me. She said that they were to be used to buy Bibles for the poor Indian children."
The missionary opened the box, and sure enough, there were all the pennies that Hsiao Yun had received.
The missionary and his wife added enough money to make five dollars, and then sent it to India.
So a little Chinese girl had had an "All the World Heart" and had thought of her sisters in India without the gospel of God's grace.
Courtesy of BibleTruthPublishers.com. Any suggestions for spelling or punctuation corrections would be warmly received. Please email them to: BTPmail@bibletruthpublishers.com.