Pieta and Her Pink Pig
Margaret Jean Tuininga
Table of Contents
Pieta and Her Pink Pig
"Pieta, is that the only dress you have?" asked the missionary.
The sad faced Filipina girl nodded shyly. Then she explained, "My master is a Spaniard. My father sold me to him long ago to pay a debt. He won't let me wear anything except this flour sack."
Mrs. Wightman, the missionary, looked pityingly at the poor excuse for a dress. It was merely an old faded flour sack turned upside down. Crude holes were torn in the bottom and sides for the girl's head and thin arms to slip through. "Let me make you a dress, Pieta!" she said impulsively. "Your master will not mind if he does not have to pay for it, will he?"
A look of fear flashed across the little girl's face as she vigorously shook her head. "Thank you, but you don't understand. My master is a drunkard and cruel. If I came home with a new dress he would be suspicious and angry. He would beat me and then sell my dress to buy more to drink. He says that slaves should only wear the poorest of things that do not cost anything."
Mrs. Wightman, a young missionary in the Philippine Islands, was having daily classes for children in a large outdoor pavilion. She had discovered that siesta time was a fine hour to gather children together, for the parents were happy to have them away from their homes so that they themselves could have their undisturbed rest. The class had grown until over a hundred boys and girls would come running as soon as their missionary friend appeared. As the children crowded in happily Pieta would stand wistfully at the far edge of the group in her shabby little dress.
One day the missionary again called Pieta to her side. "I have decided what to do for a dress for you! I am going to make you a nice dress like the other girls wear. Each day I will bring it with me to the class, and you can slip it on before the others come. You can wear it while the children are here, and then leave it with me when you go home. Would you like to do this?"
Pieta's glowing face was answer enough! "Oh! -would you make it pink—with ruffles—please?" she whispered eagerly.
In the days that followed, a radiant Pieta in her pretty pink dress sat in the front row, her hungry heart drinking in every word of the Bible stories. It was Easter time, and Mrs. Wightman told the story of the Savior's suffering and death for the sins of the world. Unexpectedly Pieta's voice interrupted her.
"I know what hurt the Lord Jesus the most!"
"What do you mean, Pieta?"
"Sometimes when I have been bad, and my master is angry, he hangs me on the fence," the little girl said earnestly. "He ties wire around my wrists and lets me hang there until I think I will die. The wire cuts into my wrists, and the pain is everywhere—but the most terrible pain is right here!" and she placed her hand over her heart. "It is the most dreadful pain of all, and I'm sure that is what hurt the Lord Jesus the most, too!"
The missionary was shocked to learn of the cruel treatment the little girl had suffered, but she said, "You are right, Pieta. The Lord Jesus suffered most of all in His heart. Not just because of the awful pain of crucifixion but because all of our sins were placed upon Him by God, and then God left Him alone to take the punishment that we deserved."
"Oh! I wish that He had died for me, too!" Pieta spoke aloud again, with longing in her voice.
"He did die for you, Pieta," the missionary assured her. "You may receive Him as your Savior right now!"
"But you have forgotten—I am a slave girl! Slaves cannot be saved, for my master says that a slave does not have a soul."
How glad Mrs. Wightman was that she could tell her the story of Onesimus from the book of Philemon. Although Onesimus had been a slave, and had sinned greatly, he had received the Lord Jesus Christ as his Savior, and had been forgiven. Then she asked Pieta to stay after the class was dismissed that they might talk about it together.
As they sat quietly after the others had run away, tears began slipping down Pieta's face. "It is wonderful that the Lord Jesus loves me! I cannot remember anyone who has ever loved me before. But I am afraid that I am too bad to belong to Him!"
"What do you mean, Pieta?"
"Sometimes my master sends me to the store to buy a cabbage, and I steal one of the pennies to get candy for myself. And sometimes when he is cruel to me I spit in the water pail when I go to the well for water, and, oh!—lots of other bad things!"
"Pieta, it is for these very things that Jesus died. The Lord Jesus has already taken the punishment that they deserved when He died upon the cross. He wants to be your Savior."
"I do want to belong to Him! How shall I tell Him that I do?"
"Do you remember the song that we sang today, the one that says, 'Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow'? Why don't you ask the Lord Jesus to do that for you right now?"
Looking toward the sky Pieta prayed simply, "Lord Jesus, wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." After a moment she looked at her teacher and said, sadly, "He didn't do it. I feel just the same."
"Listen to this verse, Pieta, 'Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.' What does the word 'believe' mean in your own language?"
"It means to count on it, to accept that it is so," she answered thoughtfully. "I see! I asked Him to wash me whiter than snow. It doesn't matter how I feel, I can just count on it that He will keep His promise and will do it!" The tear streaked face began to shine. "Wait until I tell my master! I don't think he knows anything about this, and I do want him to be saved too, for he is all I have."
The next day as the missionary helped Pieta slip into her pink dress she noticed many painful bruises on her thin body. Pieta explained, "My master swore, and said that what you had told me was lies, and then he beat me. I don't know why he was angry. It is such a good story! Help me pray that he will someday know that it is true." Then she asked, "Would there be something that I could do for the Lord Jesus for loving me so much?"
Mrs. Wightman gave her the responsibility of sweeping the pavilion each day, and from that moment on it was as clean as a small girl could possibly keep it.
Then came the days of great wind and rain. Winds from the northwest bowed palm and banana trees to the ground, swept thatched roofs from the houses and washed great waves of water over the island. Torrents of rain lashed in fury, rain that seemed endless. It was one of the dreaded typhoons, and by the time the storm was over many were homeless and some were drowned.
When they were able to have their classes once more the boys and girls had many exciting stories to tell, and some were stories of heartache and sorrow.
Then the missionary saw Pieta sitting in her accustomed place, but not alone! Beside her sat a pink pig!
"Why, Pieta! Where did that pig come from?" she exclaimed.
"He is all mine!" Pieta answered proudly. "When the water washed across our yard this little pig came floating along. I thought that he was dead, and he was almost. I fished him out with a stick and took care of him and he got all right again. I have been to every house but no one knows where he came from, or to whom he belongs, so he is mine now!"
"That is very nice," the missionary smiled, "but you had better leave him at home for this is a class for boys and girls, and he might disturb the class."
Fear lit up Pieta's dark eyes. She caught up her pig and held him tightly. "No! No! No!! I could never leave him at home. If he cannot come then I must stay at home with him. You do not understand. If I leave him home my master might eat him, or sell him—and he is my pig! He is the only thing that I have ever had that is all my own. He is for something very special!"
"What is that?" Mrs. Wightman asked gently.
"When he is big and fat and strong, then I want to give him to the Lord! He has given me so much, and I have never had anything to give to Him before. I am not letting my master feed him, for then he would say that he belonged to him. I am begging scraps of food and garbage from the neighbors."
"I understand, Pieta," the missionary assured the anxious girl. "If you can keep him quiet so that he will not disturb us you may bring him with you."
So it was that Pieta's pig became a faithful member of the class. Weeks slipped into months, and Mrs.
Wightman could see that the little Filipina girl was growing into a strong Christian. Her pig was growing, too! One day he appeared with a red bow about his fat neck, and the smile upon Pieta's face prompted the teacher to ask, "Is this a special day, Pieta?"
Pieta nodded her head eagerly. "This is the day I want to give my pig to the Lord. See how big and fat he is? I do not like the way my master has been looking at him. Tomorrow is his birthday, and I am afraid he may decide to have a feast for his friends with my pig. Will you please give him to the Lord Jesus for me today?"
After thinking carefully the missionary asked, "Would you like me to take him to the market and sell him? We could use the money to buy Bibles, and little books that tell the story of salvation to give to people who have not heard about the Lord Jesus."
Pieta agreed, and after the class Mrs. Wightman and Pieta's pig went to market.
The next day Pieta did not return to the class. When three days went by without her, Mrs. Wightman asked if anyone knew if she were sick. The children looked at one another fearfully. Then one volunteered, "Didn't you know? Her master was so angry when he found that she had sold her pig, and didn't even have the money, that he beat her dreadfully. He had planned to have a feast with his friends. He beat her so cruelly that one eye is gone—and we think that she is dying!"
Shocked, and sick at heart, the missionary dismissed the children and hurried to the little house where she had been told Pieta lived with the Spaniard. It was a typical thatched one room dwelling, standing upon posts to be above water during the heavy rains. Under the house, where the pigs were rooting and the chickens scratching in the garbage, she saw Pieta.
Crawling beneath the house, the missionary sat down beside her and gathered the sick child in her arms. Pieta's hot skin told Mrs. Wightman that she had a high fever, and as she held her the little girl had a convulsion. Tears began streaming down the missionary's face as she said aloud, "Oh! Pieta! What has he done to you? What has he done to you?"
The little form had grown still in her arms, and looking down she saw that Pieta had regained consciousness. Looking up at her with her one eye Pieta asked in a weak voice, "Are you crying? Why are you crying? You aren't crying for me, are you?"
The missionary could not answer, so Pieta continued, "Don't cry for me! I am going to be in heaven with the Lord Jesus very soon, and I'm so glad to go! Please don't cry for me, I can hardly wait."
Then Mrs. Wightman asked, "Do you think you will know the Lord Jesus when you see Him?"
Pieta answered, "Yes, I'll know Him! He is the only One who will have nail marks in His hands and feet!" Then after a moment she looked up again and whispered, "When I go, will you pray for my master? He is all I have, and I do want him to be saved."
It was hard for Mrs. Wightman to answer, for tears were choking her voice. She felt such bitterness toward that cruel Spaniard, but Pieta was waiting, and finally she was able to say, "Yes, Pieta, I will pray for his salvation."
In just a few moments Pieta grew still in her arms, and the missionary realized that her spirit had slipped away to be with the Savior whom she loved. Holding the girl's limp body she crawled out from under the house and slowly climbed the steps. Pushing the screen door open with her foot she entered the room where the Spaniard sat at the table, a bottle in his hand.
For a moment the man and the missionary looked at one another. Then Mrs. Wightman spoke. "Look at Pieta! She is dead. You killed her!"
"What if I did?" the Spaniard answered roughly. "She had no soul. She was nothing but my slave, and I had a right to do as I pleased with her. She was my property."
The missionary was trembling, but she answered quietly, without anger. "Yes, she did have a soul, and you know that. Pieta is now in heaven. You are a wicked murderer in the sight of God!"
"Get out of here! I have nothing to do with God or the things you teach. Get out!"
"I will go in a moment," she answered, "but first I have something to say to you. Just before Pieta died she asked me to do a hard thing. She asked me to pray for you. She loved you in spite of your cruelty to her, and wanted you to be saved from everlasting punishment. I will keep my promise to Pieta. I will pray that God will show you what a sinful man you are, and that you will come to Him for mercy and for pardon."
At home the missionary lovingly bathed the bruised body of Pieta, and dressed her in the pink dress she had loved. With a few Filipino Christians they had a Christian burial for her. Then Mrs. Wightman told them the whole story, and asked, "Will you pray with me for this wicked man that he may find the Lord Jesus Christ as his Savior?"
The response was immediate. They agreed to pray, and to pray around the clock, continually, until this man should be saved. During the fourth night the praying Filipinos heard footsteps. Looking up they saw the haggard Spaniard stumbling through the doorway.
"Is there mercy with God for such a wicked man as I am?" he cried. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked as though he had neither eaten nor slept for some time.
Falling to his knees the man poured out his heart to God confessing his sin, and his deep need of Jesus Christ as his Savior. The Christians were able to show him from God's Word that the death of the Lord Jesus upon Calvary had atoned for his great sin, and he received God's gift of salvation.
The change in this man's life was seen by everyone. He immediately went to his drinking companions and shared with them what God had done for him. Soon his testimony was winning others to the Savior.
Then war came with all of its horrors. Pearl Harbor was bombed and the Japanese were everywhere, forcing the Filipinos to bow to the Japanese emperor. One day the Spaniard was brought face to face with the command to bow. Fearlessly he refused, telling the soldiers that he could only bow to the living God who had saved and cleansed him from his wicked ways.
There was a moment of stunned silence! Then the ringing cry was furiously repeated, "Bow to the emperor—or die!"
The Spaniard stood.
A sharp command was followed by a volley of shots, and the Spaniard was with the Savior he had learned to love even unto death, and with Pieta, in answer to her prayer!
Eric's Amazing Fish Story
"God, if there be a God, give me food! Send a bird I can shoot and kill to feed my starving family!"
The wind whipped the frayed tatters of Eric's clothing about his thin body as he stood upon the beach, trembling with weakness and crying out in despair to a God he wasn't sure existed. As he scanned the sky a large edible bird flew over his head. With great effort he tried to control the shaking of his hands as he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. In a moment the bird lay at his feet.
Strange new thoughts filled Eric's mind as he struggled up the rugged cliff to his fisherman's hut overlooking the wild waters of the Skagafjord in Iceland. He now had food for his hungry family, and it appeared to have come as an answer to his prayer. Could there really be a God? A God who knew him and cared about him? A God who could command a bird who could direct his bullet when he had been too weak and unsteady to take aim?
Eric and his family had always been poor. At times the fishing was better than others and there was plenty of food upon the table, but all too often he was tormented by hearing his children cry from hunger.
The day came when he felt he could stand it no longer. Taking his gun down he loaded it, kicked off his worn shoe, and put the muzzle of the gun in his mouth. While he fumbled for the trigger with his toe he fainted and slumped to the floor. When he came to himself he stumbled down to the beach and cried aloud to God for a bird to shoot—and God had answered!
Eric and his fellow villagers lived a rough life. God, and His Son, Jesus Christ, were merely names to be used as swear words. Cheating, stealing, drinking and fighting were the ways of life best known to them. But in the years that followed Eric often thought about how God had that one day heard his desperate cry for food. As he spent lonely hours in his fishing boat out on the icy waters of the fjord he wondered if there was a way a man could get to know more about God.
Then Eric began to have spells of sickness that grew increasingly worse. His lack of food and threadbare clothing, his exposure to bitter weather, caused him to cough until he began to bleed from his lungs. He had great pain in his back. No doctor in the area could help him, so he borrowed money and went to see doctors in larger villages. Soon his money was gone and his sickness increased.
"Why don't you try the English missionary in Akureyri?" someone suggested. "He isn't a doctor, but he does give pills, and he doesn't ask for money!"
Eric had given up hope that he would ever be well again, but as there was nothing to lose he knocked one day upon Arthur Gook's door. As the missionary listened to Eric's explanation of his symptoms he prayed earnestly to God for wisdom. He realized Eric's condition was a serious one, far beyond his limited medical skill to cope with. Thoughtfully he selected a medicine he knew would help to build up Eric's strength. Then he also carefully chose several leaflets for him to take home and read. He doubted that he would ever see Eric again, and he wanted Eric to learn the good news that God loved him and had sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die for his sins, that he might be ready to meet God. Eric promised to take the medicine regularly, and to read the leaflets.
As Mr. Gook watched him wearily turn homeward it did not seem possible that Eric would live long. However, an enthusiastic letter from Eric arrived a month later. He was feeling much better. Could he have more medicine, and more to read? Another month, and a similar letter arrived. A few months later Mr. Gook received a letter with the good news that Eric could now row his boat and work his nets without becoming sick. The pain was gone from his back. Best of all, he was now trusting the Savior Mr. Gook had introduced him to.
This was so wonderful to Eric that he felt he dare not keep it to himself. He began sharing the story of God's love and salvation with his fishing pals and neighbors. Then he asked Mr. Gook if he could have a supply of Bibles and Testaments, and the leaflets that had helped him. He felt that he would like to use his now strong back for the Lord by carrying a pack of literature to more distant places. So it was, that week after week, Eric tramped over the hills and valleys, often through deep snow, until practically every home in Skagafjord County had a copy of God's good news.
Eric's neighbors could not understand the change that had taken place in him. Swear words had disappeared from his conversation. He was no longer easily angered. Even when hungry he would not cheat or steal. They became strangely uncomfortable when he was around. He was now the kind of man they each knew they should be, but in their hearts knew it was impossible for them to be.
Another long spell of poor fishing occurred when many families were hungry. God fish were teeming in the deep waters, but the herring that they needed for bait were not running. Day after day the herring nets hung limp and empty.
Eric was away with his literature pack when the good news came that a trawler had just put in at
Siglufjord, the next large port—loaded with herring! Immediately each one brought what money he could scrape together to send to purchase the bait.
When the load arrived and was being divided, someone ventured a cruel suggestion, "What do you say, men? Let's leave Eric out of this hawl! He wasn't here to put any money down so I'm all for leaving him out. Let's see what the God he talks so much about can do for him!"
When Eric returned to the village he found the men busy with their fishing gear, but no one would share any herring with him. When he realized that the men deliberately would not listen to him he turned and made his way slowly up the steep cliff to his hut.
How could he face his four hungry children, and his wife? Had God forgotten him?
No! Into his mind came the promises of God, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee," "Cast thy burden upon the Lord and He shall sustain thee," and many more. As Eric recalled God's promises he was able to rest his fears with the Lord.
Having nothing better to do he decided to go check his patched-up herring net, although he knew that there was little likelihood of finding even a few stray herring in it. Many weeks had passed since there had been herring in the fjord. The men of Iceland are such keen, experienced fishermen that they can not only tell whether there are fish running in the water, or not, but also what kind, as they look out across the fjords. Still God seemed to be prompting Eric to go look at his net!
The news spread among the villagers who were watching Eric curiously, that he was going to look at his net. This was a great joke to some, and they decided to go along to laugh at his foolishness.
Eric's net was not in the best position. Better nets were placed where they would catch the most herring, and these the men drew up first. One after another was thrown back in disgust as it proved to be empty. Finally they came to Eric's net. At the first pull it seemed to be caught. What could be holding it back? Bending their strength the men pulled again, and at last it came up—full of herring!
In great excitement the men ran to the remaining nets, but as they pulled them out they found there were no herring in any of the other nets.
The men stood speechless with astonishment while Eric thanked and praised the Lord. Still wondering, they helped him into the village with his great catch. In no time an excited crowd gathered to hear the story. Then Eric, with beaming face, invited others to share with him, and began joyfully to divide his herring among the other poor villagers who had not been able to purchase much from the recent trawler supply.
As the news spread, this generous act of returning good for evil was almost greater in the minds of the Icelandic fishermen than the miraculous net full of herring. Surely only God could so change a man's heart!
Eric found the doors and hearts of people everywhere began opening to him in his travels. One day Mr. Gook received a letter from Eric, asking him to come and preach in his village. He wrote, "The people are ready to listen to you now!"
When Arthur Gook came in answer to that letter to Hofsos, Iceland, he found that the largest building could not hold the crowds of people who came, eager to hear the message that had so changed the life of Eric the fisherman, to Eric the fisherman for Christ!
Note: This unusual story of Eric's amazing catch of herring has been verified. The Hofsos newspaper at the time carried the full account of it.
The Gift That Stopped a Bullet
"Dad, David wants to see you," Bill greeted his father, Mr. Boyd Nicholson, as he brought his thirteen year old friend into the house.
"Glad to see you, David, sit down and be comfortable. I'll be glad to help you in any way I can." Mr. Nicholson put a friendly hand on the boy's shoulder and drew him in. David sat down in awkward silence and seemed at a loss to know how to begin, so Mr. Nicholson began to talk about various problems he knew a young fellow often faces, to put him at ease.
David did not respond, but sat quietly studying the rug on the floor between his feet. After a few moments Mr. Nicholson fell silent also, and sat studying the boy's serious face. This seemed to be what David was waiting for. Looking up he announced,
"I've got a job!"
"Say, that's great, glad to hear it! What are you doing?"
"Got a paper route." Another brief pause, and then, "I got my first pay check today!"
Mr. Nicholson smiled with pleasure. "That's wonderful, David! I remember what a day it was when I got my first pay check. It sure makes a fellow feel good to have money of his own that he has earned himself, doesn't it?"
David smiled in agreement as he drew a somewhat rumpled envelope from his pocket and handed it to his friend. "This is it. I want to give it to the Lord, and I thought you would know what to do with it!"
After David had gone, Mr. Nicholson opened the envelope. It was filled with coins, and as he poured them out on the dining room table he found it amounted to $1.65. His eyes misted with tears at the thought of the love and sacrifice this meant from a boy's heart. This was far too precious a gift to be used to purchase some small necessity. It should be used where it could best be multiplied for eternity!
After prayerful thought David's gift was put into an envelope and mailed to a missionary, Mr. George Walker, in Florida. He shared David's story, then made the suggestion that perhaps it could be used in Mr. Walker's radio work.
When the letter arrived Mr. Walker was just going out to buy a tape for his program, "Gospel Bells." One dollar and sixty-five cents was exactly the amount needed to purchase it!
This program was in Spanish, and not only could be heard in Florida, but was beamed into Cuba. On this particular day the Lord prompted Mr. Walker to announce a phone number anyone could use who wanted to contact him. The program was scarcely over before his phone was ringing.
As he lifted the receiver he heard a man's voice saying,
"I had my gun at my head, and was ready to pull the trigger when I decided to turn the radio on full blast to deaden the sound of the shot. I heard a voice saying loud and clear, 'Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.' That's what I need, but how do I get it? Can you come and help me?"
"Where are you?" "At the flop house."
They arranged to meet one another at a Chapel where the man poured out his sad story. He was a Cuban who had managed to escape from Cuba in a small boat. He was heartsick and discouraged because none of his attempts to get his family had succeeded, and it seemed that he would never see his loved ones again. It was then that God called to him through the radio with those wonderful words, "Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest!" Matthew 11:28
When Mr. Walker shared the story of God's great love in sending Christ to be his sin bearer, this man gladly received this One who would be his everlasting Friend!
With a face that glowed in spite of badly needing a shave he said, "I have the Answer to all my problems now!"
Sometime later Mr. Walker heard that this Cuban was going to be able to re-establish his family.
One evening at a conference in Toronto, Canada, Mr. Walker told the story of David's gift to the Lord of his first pay check that had been used of God to save a man from both physical and spiritual death. As he was leaving he felt a tug on his coat. Looking down he saw a small boy who was holding out an envelope and saying,
"Here, Uncle George, please buy two more tapes!"
When Bladi Learned to Listen
Biff!—Bang!—Whack!!!
As the astonished missionary watched the young Uruguayan mother, the children, Jorge, Betty, Margot, Bladimir and Tana were all but clobbered as she swatted each one impartially! "Why, Erna! Why are you doing that? What have they done?"
"Oh, nothing—yet!" Ema answered calmly. "That's so they'll behave while I'm gone. You should see what they did the last time! They broke a good vase and did plenty of other naughty things!"
Scolding as she went, the door closed behind them as the missionary, Elsa Sands, and Ema, started out for a few hours of calling upon some of Ema's unsaved relatives she longed to see trusting in the Lord. This manner of punishment in advance was both amazing, and more than a little humorous to Elsa, but a very serious matter to Ema who was most earnestly desiring that her children hear the Word of God and learn to be obedient to it.
One hot, sultry summer afternoon in Montevideo, Uruguay, Ema, with her five children strung along the bench, sat listening to a message at a Bible conference. It was hard in the heat to be alert and attentive. Many were dozing. All was quiet on the street outside except for the tinkle of a bell and the cries, "Helados! Helados!" (Ice cream! Ice cream!) as the vendor passed by.
Although a few listeners fell asleep, most were very attentive. Occasionally a mother would quietly slip out with a restless child. Ema was so absorbed she did not notice when Bladi rose and tiptoed down the aisle.
Bladi was only five years old, a thoughtful little boy, but one who could not express himself easily because of a speech impediment. When Ema became aware of his empty seat she was frightened for fear he had wandered out alone into the city streets and would soon be lost. "Bladi, oh, where is Bladi?" she whispered anxiously to little Tana who had been sitting beside him.
Tana did not know, so Ema began a hurried search. He was not in the rest room, or the patio where lunch was soon to be served, and no one had noticed a little boy wandering about by himself. Breathlessly she ran out onto the street to begin her search—and there stood Bladimir, beside the Bible coach, listening with rapt, joyful attention to the message coming through the loud speakers on top of the coach that were sending out the gospel so that it could be heard clearly up and down the street.
"Bladi! Bladi! Why did you leave? You worried me so-" Ema cried, a little crossly, perhaps like another mother, Mary, long ago.
Bladimir turned in surprise, "Don't you know—I must listen to the Word of God?" he lisped.
That very day Bladi received the Lord Jesus as his Savior. Although only five years old he seemed to clearly understand that the Lord Jesus took the punishment for his sins when He died on Calvary, and he simply put his trust in Him.
Because of his speech defect Bladimir spent three years in first grade. Impatient teachers in the public school did not take time with the little fellow to help him, and he soon became discouraged. Then the Lord put the desire in Elsa Sand's heart to see if she could help.
"Bladi! Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could read your Bible? Just think, you could hear what God has to say to you for yourself whenever you opened His Word!"
Bladimir responded eagerly, and Elsa and he spent many hours together, with the result that Bladi not only learned to read, but became an outstanding student.
Today, Bladimir is a man who not only knows and loves the Lord but is one who encourages others to get to know Him too. He is an excellent mechanic, owning his own business, and has a fine Christian wife. What wonderful blessings have come into the life of the little boy who decided,
"Tengo que escuchar la palabra de Dios!" (I must listen to the Word of God!)
Buried Alive by an Elephant
Elephants! There they were, feeding peacefully in the jungle just before them. Huge and fearless they seemed, mighty rulers of the black Ituri forest. The air was filled with the exciting smell of them to the crouching Pygmies. Gripping their spears and knives tensely they inched their way noiselessly, closer, and closer.
Though this is a familiar age-old hunting game to the Pygmies living two villages away from Lolwa in Zaire, it has never lost its thrill. The little black men more than make up for their small stature by their skill and bravery. At times they creep up upon the feeding elephants, who seem to lose their sense of danger while eating. One man will dart swiftly forward and under one of them, then thrust his spear straight up into the vital part of the stomach. The elephant becomes wild with pain and fury, charging, rearing, stamping and shaking. The Pygmy hangs on with all his might until the elephant drops dead.
At other times the Pygmy will wait his chance to spring up to a feeding elephant and hamstring him by slashing the tendon in one of his back legs. The Pygmy must be swift and sure, especially in making his getaway. Trumpeting furiously, the elephant will charge in every direction to find him. Finally he will return to eating, dragging his helpless leg. Darting back the Pygmy will cut the tendon in the other leg, and the elephant will drop helplessly to the ground. Other Pygmies will quickly join the first one, and the elephant is killed by a spear thrust into the stomach. When the victorious hunters return, the whole village celebrates joyously over the great supply of fresh meat.
Today the hunters were closing in for the kill. The nearest Pygmy tensed his muscles and sprang forward to hamstring the leg of the big fellow just before him but he was not quite swift enough! A slight shift in the wind had warned the elephant. He smelled his enemy. With amazing swiftness he swung about to kill his attacker.
Upon the ground before him lay the Pygmy, apparently dead already! Swift as the elephant had been, the Pygmy had collapsed even more swiftly, and now lay "playing dead" without a quiver.
The elephant appeared puzzled. The man did not respond when he prodded him with his trunk. Picking him up he carried him through the forest for about a half a mile, then dumped him down upon the ground and walked on a short distance. The Pygmy continued to "play dead," for he knew the ways of elephants. In a few moments the elephant swung back suspiciously to see if the man had stirred. Once again he seized the limp figure in his trunk and carried him through the forest for another half mile and dropped him. Again he walked away, and returned to see if the man had moved. For the third time he carried him through the forest, but this time when he tossed him to the ground he proceeded to dig a grave to bury him in!
Crouched in the undergrowth at a safe distance away the other hunters watched with amazement as the elephant rapidly scooped out a shallow grave. When it was large and deep enough the elephant once more caught up the Pygmy. Stuffing him into the grave he shoved the dirt back into place, covering him completely—except for his head! Then, evidently feeling that he had done a thorough job of disposing of his enemy, the elephant swung off into the jungle, and this time did not return.
When the hunters were sure that the elephant was no longer pretending, but had gone on his way into the forest, they hurried to the buried man's side and dug him out. He was still very much alive, but badly bruised and torn from the elephant's tusks and rough handling, so the hunters carried him out of the forest to the missionaries' medical dispensary.
The Christian doctors and nurses were very interested in their unusual patient. For some reason God had kept the elephant from destroying the man. Was it that he might be brought to them to learn of God's love for him?
The Pygmy, with the nightmarish experience of being buried alive still fresh in his mind, listened in wonder to the story of the Savior's death, burial, and resurrection for him. Thinking back over his life of many wrong deeds he became convinced that God had allowed this experience to happen that he might realize the frightfulness of death and burial without the knowledge of his sins forgiven. Before he left the hospital he received the Lord Jesus Christ as his Savior. Today he lives to thank God for his experience of being buried alive by an elephant!
Since the time of this story two of this man's brothers have had similar experiences with elephants attempting to bury them. One brother was caught by the elephant when he made an attempt to hamstring him. The elephant threw him to the ground and "spanked" him three times across the chest with his trunk, breaking his ribs. Turning a short distance away he began to dig a hole in which to bury him. The wind was in the hunters' favor, so they were able to creep up, snatch the injured Pygmy and flee with him.
Although this is a rare occurrence, elephants are known for their unusual memories concerning their enemies. For this family in particular they seem to have nothing but revenge in their hearts!
God Used a Hawk
A sudden spatter of rain sent us scurrying for shelter. My "port of storm" was under the roof that stretched the length of the outdoor tables the dish washers used. We were at Bethel Camp in northern Alberta, Canada. As I reached my haven I found that Bill Fairholm, the camp director, had made it just ahead of me.
"I'll never forget one rainy spell back in the early days of our camp!" he laughingly reminisced as we stood together under the roof, waiting for the shower to pass over. "It rained and it rained. The road became such a rutty, muddy mess it was impossible to get to town for food supplies. We ran out of potatoes, and other necessities were low. At breakfast we prayed about it together with the one hundred or so young folks seated about the tables. Lifting our bowed heads we were just in time to see a car, pulling a trailer, churning through the mud, and pulling to a stop alongside the dining hall.
"I'll never forget the joy and wonder on the faces of those campers when they discovered that it was a farmer with a load of potatoes for them! Why, we had hardly mentioned the word potatoes before the Lord had a whole trailer full of them, right on our doorstep!"
Others had joined us as the rain continued to pour down, so "Uncle Bill" took another long look into the past. "Yes, that wasn't the first time, or the last, that I personally have known the Lord to send food in direct answer to prayer. Perhaps the most unusual happened when I was just a young unknown country preacher, traveling about through this north bush country with a horse and one seater carry-all. I'd been telling about the Lord Jesus in country school houses and farm homes here and there, finding folks who were complete strangers to the Lord. Many did not even know that the Lord loved them personally, and that the Savior had taken the punishment their sins deserved when He died on the cross.
"Some folks were friendly and treated me like home folks, urging me to stop for a meal, and sometimes overnight. Others were not so kind. There came a time when all I had was a loaf of bread, which lasted for three days. I was about to enter a forested area with no homes for many miles and was just passing the last farm house when the thought came to me that perhaps I had better stop and ask for a bit of food. This certainly appeared to be my last chance to get something to eat, and I was very hungry.
"But, no! The Lord seemed to check me before I could turn my horse into the lane leading to the farm house. If I were to ask for food, and they were to learn that I was a preacher, would this cause them to think dishonoring thoughts about my Lord? Would they think it strange that a servant of the Lord God should have to beg for food?
"Well, after talking it over with the Lord my horse and I went on by without stopping. It would be much better to suffer a little hunger than to bring reproach upon my Lord.
"But, my! I really was hungry! Night was coming on, and the woods seemed to be closing in about me as I drove along.
"Then I became aware of a noise overhead, and looking up discovered a large hawk struggling with a chicken in the air above me! Immediately I recognized what the Lord was doing! He was sending this hungry preacher a chicken dinner, using that hawk to make it `special delivery'!
"Jumping out of my wagon I quickly tied my horse to a tree and went running down that road after my dinner. The hawk fought to keep airborne, but the chicken was still alive and struggling. It was not long before the hawk dropped the chicken, right at my feet!
"In no time I had that chicken roasting over a bed of coals, and talk about delicious!... m-m-m-mh! Yes sir! The Lord can still provide a table in the wilderness!"
The shower was over and Bill Fairholm's joyous laughter seemed to follow us as we scattered to our activities. Today, as I picture "Uncle Bill" in my mind I can still see him as he often stood by the Bethel Camp dining hall door, singing heartily as the campers came running in answer to the dinner bell,
"Come and dine," the Master calleth,
"Come and dine,"
You may feast at Jesus' table anytime!
He who fed the multitude,
Turned the water into wine,
To the hungry still He calleth,
"Come and dine!"
When Eddy McCully Was Seven
Who were the Auca Indians?
The name had not meant much to Brian before, but tonight the steaming rain forest of Ecuador was coming alive before his very eyes. He was actually seeing the dreaded Auca Indians and the five brave missionaries.
Brian leaned forward as he watched the pictures on the screen and listened to Ed McCully's father tell the story. It almost seemed that he, too, was flying with Nate Saint in that little yellow Piper, making the skillful landing on that narrow beach of the Curaray River. He watched the building of the tree house, and waited eagerly with Ed McCully, Jim Elliot, Pete Fleming, Nate Saint, and Roger Youdarian for the first Auca Indians to visit them.
Then he saw them!—dark skinned people with straight black hair and large circles of wood stretching their ear lobes almost to their shoulders. There were three of them, a man and two women. They seemed friendly, and very interested in all the fellows showed them.
Brian wondered how they liked their first hamburgers with mustard, and what the Indian called, George, thought of his airplane ride!
Darkness came, and the three Indians slipped away into the jungle. The rest of Mr. McCully's story was sad. There was the long hard waiting of the five wives for another radio message that never came. In a day or two the whole world learned of the speared bodies of the five brave fellows who had given their lives that the Auca Indians might be won to Christ.
The last picture was on the screen. It showed three of the fellows, Jim Elliot, Pete Fleming and Ed McCully up close. So close Brian felt he could almost reach out and touch them as they smiled down at him. Mr. McCully pointed to Ed and said, "My boy, Eddy, came to me one day when he was seven years old asking, `Dad, how can I be saved?' "
Brian turned quickly to his mother in the darkness and whispered, "Mother! he was just as old as I am!"
"I told Ed this story," Mr. McCully continued. "Years ago a school teacher felt he must punish five girls for their repeated misbehavior. With whip in hand he paused. Something prompted him to ask, 'Is there anyone who is willing to take the punishment these girls deserved'
"There was a long moment of silence, then a stir among the boys as slender Jimmy began to feel his way down the aisle. Jimmy was blind.
"A chair was brought, and as the blows began to fall across Jimmy's knees the giggles of the girls grew hushed. When the punishment was over they ran to Jimmy with tears to thank him, and to ask him why he had done this.
" 'It's all right, girls,' he answered, `if it will just help you to understand how the Lord Jesus took the punishment your sins deserved when He died on the cross for you!"
Eddy McCully understood that night what the Lord Jesus had done for him, and received Him as his own personal Savior. As the years went by Eddy grew to be a real fellow, tops in athletics and studies. He excelled in everything he did.
But Ed did not forget that Someone had died that he might live! When God began to show him the great need of many Indians in Ecuador who had never heard of the Savior who loved them, his heart answered, "I will go and tell them! You died for these Auca Indians, too, I will follow wherever You lead me."
That night Brian knelt and prayed aloud, as perhaps Eddy prayed years ago after his father's story, "Thank you, Lord Jesus, for dying on the cross and taking the punishment for my sins so that now I won't have to be punished for them!"
Have you ever sincerely thanked Him in this way? "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement (punishment) of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:6)
Emmy and the Red Shoes
"I don't suppose there's any tea left in the cupboard, is there, Emmy? You're sure you looked carefully? I am so thirsty for a cup of tea!"
Little Emmy shook her head as she looked at her sick father anxiously. "I looked again, Daddy, it's all gone. I'll get you some water. Are you sure you don't want me to run for the doctor?"
"I should have the doctor, dear, but I cannot. It would cost at least two dollars to get him to come, and we don't have it. I don't even have enough money to buy a bit of tea."
It was all very puzzling to the little six year old girl, but in a moment her face brightened. "I know what I'll do! I'm going to ask God to send us some tea, and some money to get the doctor to come!" Then after a moment's thought she added, "And I think I'll ask Him for a pair of red shoes, too!" Emmy had had a secret longing for red shoes, and now, in their time of real need she suddenly remembered she could surely tell their heavenly Father all about it!
Emmy's mother and father had come to Mexico to be missionaries, and had not been there long before Emmy's mother died. Now, although she was still such a very little girl she was a great help to her father in many ways. There was much that she had learned to do about the house, and she often ran errands for him. Now that her father was so sick that he could not get out of bed it was frightening to Emmy. Then she remembered how foolish it was to be troubled when they only needed to tell God all about it!
Sitting out on the steps Emmy looked up and down the dusty street. It was late afternoon and the few people in sight seemed to be hurrying homeward. As she watched, a man turned from the street and came toward her house. He had a small package in his hand which he held out to her, saying, "Here's a little present for your father! We had some guests a while ago and we got some tea for them. After their visit we didn't know what to do with what we had left, for we all much prefer our good coffee. Just today I happened to remember that your father is an Englishman, and probably would enjoy it!"
Emmy thanked him joyously and ran into the house to put the tea kettle on the stove. The father drank his tea with real appreciation as he listened to her story, and together they thanked the Lord. Then Emmy announced,
"We still need money for the doctor, so I'd better go out and wait for God to send that now!"
Before long another Mexican stopped before her, and taking his wallet from his pocket he said, "I borrowed two dollars from your father a while ago, and I am able to pay him back now. Will you take this to him for me?"
"I never expected to be repaid," marveled Emmy's father. "God must have put it on his heart to bring it now when we need it!"
So it was that with her father's permission Emmy's little feet were soon flying down the street to get the doctor. The doctor brought medicine, and gave good advice, and the father was soon resting much more comfortably. When they said goodnight it had grown dark outside, and it was bed time for Emmy.
"I guess I'll have to wait 'til morning for my red shoes," she told her father as she kissed him and turned to climb into her own little bed for the night.
The next morning, after breakfast, an expectant little girl sat out on the front steps, waiting for God to send her a pair of red shoes. In the house, still on his sick bed, but feeling much more rested and refreshed, her father was thanking the Lord for His goodness to them, and praying for his motherless little girl.
Soon a man with a package under his arm approached Emmy and began to tell her this story: "Little girl, I'm a shoe maker. Quite a long time ago some tourists were visiting our town and they came to me to buy a pair of shoes for their little girl. They didn't care for the sandals or harachis most of our children wear here. I had to send away for some red leather to make her a pair of real shoes. When I was through, and they had gone on their way, I found I had enough leather left to make a second pair, so I did so. Now these shoes have been sitting on my shelf for many months and no one has wanted to buy them. I do not like to see them become old, the leather dry and cracked, with no one making use of them. Then I thought of the missionary's little girl who wears shoes. If they fit you, you may have them!"
With happy excitement Emmy pulled off her old shoes and slipped her feet into the lovely new red ones. Of course they fit! They had been made to order, special order by a loving heavenly Father in answer to the prayer of a little girl who believed in Him!
"We Shared Our Last Meal"
[This story was shared by an elderly friend, Cart Leverentz, as he recalled his boyhood in Sweden before the turn of the century.]
"For most folks food was never too plentiful," our friend recalled. "It was usually herring and potatoes. In the summer the herring were fresh, and in the winter they were salted and dried. We always boiled the potatoes and ate them with the jackets on!—we couldn't afford to throw the peelings away. Mother often managed to get skim milk for us also, so we were better off than many others.
"We did not feel sorry for ourselves. Herring and potatoes had been the food my father had grown up with, and my grandfather before him. We children greatly enjoyed hearing grandfather tell stories of his boyhood, and there was one he told and retold many times.
"It happened like this: One summer the potatoes had not produced well for there had been very little rain. That meant a hard winter for everyone, and they looked forward anxiously to the next summer's potato crop. When that spring came they had good rains, and the farmers were hopeful, but the last rain was on June eighth.
"When August came the potatoes were only the size of marbles and the plants had withered to the ground. Everywhere Christians were crying to the Lord, for the situation was desperate. On August eighth rain came—rain in abundance! It rained until fields were flooded and barnyards turned into miniature lakes. Gradually the thirsty earth drank up the water.
"Then a wonderful thing happened! Those small potatoes became seed potatoes and began to grow! It did not seem likely that they could mature before frost would come, but Christians were praying, and God mercifully granted the longest fall without freezing weather that anyone could remember. It was well into October, and not until they had harvested a bountiful crop of potatoes that a killing frost came.
"But that was not all! God sent herring in abundance also! Fishermen with nets and boats, farmers with wagons and some only with wheelbarrows were fishing. The fish were so abundant that a man could wade out into the water and scoop the fish out onto the shore with a board!
"God was good to the many devout Christians who cried to Him for help.
"That was my grandfather's story," our friend continued. "Now let me tell you one of my own. One time when I was a boy we went through a very hard time. My father was a tailor. I well remember seeing him sit cross-legged upon the table, as the manner was in those days, busy with his tailoring. One fall he became ill and had to take to his bed. Several weeks went by and he grew no better. Finally the day came when we were sitting down to the table to eat the last food in the house, with no knowledge of how we would be able to get more. We were quite a large family of still small children. With a sick husband our mother had her hands full.
"At that moment a knock was heard, and we found a stranger at the door in need of a meal and a night's lodging. Without a moment's hesitation our mother invited him in, and we shared our last meal with this young man.
"It was not long before our guest noticed that father was a very sick man, and upon inquiring about my father's trade he became thoughtful. Finally he said,
" 'I believe God has sent me here to help you. I too am a tailor. I see you have work stacked up here that you are unable to do. I was on my way to the next town to look for work. I believe I have found it right here.
With your permission I'll stay with you and do your tailoring for you, and care for your family until you are able to be up and do so again yourself.'
"It was spring before father was able to be out of bed and strong enough to work. All winter that fine young man worked industriously, sitting cross-legged upon the table as he did his careful hand tailoring. As a result our house was warm, we were clothed, and we never lacked sufficient food.
"How thankful we were to God for His provision! How thankful for that large hearted young tailor, and how thankful for a mother who would not turn a stranger away, but was willing to share our last bit of food with him!
"I've lived a long life now, and there is something I can say with David, 'I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread. ' " Psalm 37.25
"The liberal soul shall be made fat: and he that watereth shall be watered also himself."
Proverbs 11:25
Goodness and Mercy!
"Katherine, have you ever seen goodness and mercy?" Mr. Morgan, missionary to Colombia, South America, had just returned from a trip by horse-back into neighboring towns and villages where he had been distributing tracts and portions of the Bible. After caring for his horse he had entered the house, dusty and weary, but with a smile upon his face as he asked the question of his wife, "Have you ever seen goodness and mercy?"
"No, I don't believe that I have," Mrs. Morgan answered thoughtfully, "but I can see by the smile on your face that you have a reason for asking! Have you seen them?"
"Yes, I have! I just saw them today. To tell you the truth, I didn't recognize them right away, but I surely saw them!"
Mr. Morgan then told the happenings of his day. Upon reaching the center of a certain small village he had dismounted, and leaving his horse, had begun to make his way about the small park square, giving away his leaflets to the people resting upon benches or clustered here and there chatting together. Now and then he had a chance to say a few words to someone who appeared to be interested, but he did not delay long, for he knew that sooner or later someone would become suspicious of his gospel tracts, and then trouble would begin.
He had scarcely circled half the way when he saw that an angry crowd was gathering and heading toward him. Even as they came hurrying his way the people were picking up stones from the cobblestone street that always seemed to have an abundance of loose stones for a street fight!
Mr. Morgan's first instinct was to bolt across the park to his waiting horse on the other side. But at his first quick step he found himself hampered by a small dark-eyed Indian child clinging firmly to each leg. Each child was reaching upward with grimy eager fingers, begging for some of the leaflets in Mr. Morgan's hand. It was something free, and they wanted it!
From the crowd came angry shouts, ordering the children, "Venite, pronto!! " (Come, quick!!), lest they be hit by the rocks and stones intended for the missionary. But the children clung the more!
It was then that Mr. Morgan realized that God was using these two little ones for his safety. Holding the leaflets just out of their reach he began to walk slowly but steadily across the park to his horse. The threatening crowd followed, continuing to shout warnings to the clinging children. When there remained but a short distance he quickly shook off the two little ones and made a dash for his horse. As he galloped away a shower of stones fell harmlessly behind him!
"So you see," he smiled to his wife, "I saw goodness and mercy in the form of two dirty, ragged little children today that God used to keep me from being harmed. I do not know what form goodness and mercy will take tomorrow, but today they were two little Indian children!"
"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Psalm 23:6
Better Than Silver or Gold
"I would like to buy a Bible!"
Mr. Wilson looked at the tall smiling African standing before him. "But, Sakaya, you cannot read. What good will a Bible be to you?"
Sakaya looked slightly daunted, but insisted that he would like a copy of the New Testament in his own language. It was true that he could not read, but in his heart was a deep love for the Author of this Book, and he greatly desired a copy of it.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Mr. Wilson said, "but I have only a very few copies left, and I cannot say when I will be able to get more. I feel I must keep these for those who can read, that they may be put to the very best use."
The next day Sakaya was back with another request. "Do you have a load that needs to be carried?"
"Yes, I do," was the reply. "I have a sixty pound load of window glass down at the coast. Would you like to get it for me? I have a load you may carry down also."
The next morning Sakaya was off on his three hundred mile walk to the coast with a load upon his head, and a boy swinging along at his side, carrying food and a few necessities for the long trip.
A month later Mr. Wilson looked out of his window to see Sakaya smiling broadly, sweat glistening on his black skin as he stood stripped to the waist, with the load of window glass on his head.
As the missionary hurried out to greet him the African carefully placed his load on the ground and then, clapped his hands.
"Moyo mwane!" Sakaya gave his respectful greeting, and clapped his hands again.
Mr. Wilson clapped his hands, replying, "Moyo mwata!" (Greetings, older brother!) and clapped his hands. "What is your gossip, Sakaya?"
With pleasure Sakaya settled down to give Mr. Wilson in detail the news of his six hundred mile journey on foot, to the coast and back, and the missionary listened with interest. Finishing at last, Sakaya asked Mr. Wilson politely, "And what is your gossip?"
So in turn Mr. Wilson reported the happenings of the month while Sakaya had been away. Then rising he said, "Come into the house now, Sakaya, and I will pay you for the load."
In the house he turned to Sakaya, "What would you like, money, or cloth?"
Sakaya hesitated. "Will you give me whatever I want?" he asked.
As this is the custom, Mr. Wilson answered, "Certainly, you may have whatever you wish. Will it be money or cloth?"
Again Sakaya asked, "May I really have whatever I want?"
"Yes, you may have whatever you want, cloth? or money?"
But once again Sakaya asked, "May I REALLY have whatever I want?"
And again, patiently, the missionary repeated his assurance that he could have whatever he wanted.
"If I may have what I really want, I would like a New Testament," Sakaya answered simply.
Sakaya was a familiar sight after that, sitting in a shady spot with his New Testament in his hand, a big black finger pointing out the words as he slowly, laboriously spelled out the precious words he was learning to read.
A six hundred mile walk in the heat of the African sun, carrying a heavy load upon his head, had been a small price to pay for the Treasure of God's Word for this black Christian who loved his Lord!
Great King David said long ago, "More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold..."
Psalm 19:10
Cuban Country Boy
"Come on with me, Olivio, I think you'll like it all right. Besides, he gives away candy caramels!"
The invitation was to a children's gospel service on a Friday night in a small town in Cuba, before the days of Castro's regime. Olivio was fourteen years old, but he knew nothing of the story of God's love for him. He lived out in the country, about four miles away, and of course he would have to walk. He really was not too interested, but those caramels the Americano would be giving away did sound good! Treats of any kind did not come his way too often. Farming where he lived meant eking an existence from the rocky soil.
Olivio came, and enjoyed the caramels, but he also listened well, and liked what the American told them from the Word of God, the Bible. After a few Friday evening meetings he knew God was speaking to him personally about receiving the Lord Jesus as his Savior.
A storm was building up one night as he started his long walk home. Lightning was flashing repeatedly. At first it was not so bad for he was not alone. For about two miles he had the company of an older man and his wife and daughter. They had just recently become Christians, and he somehow felt quite safe while they were walking together.
But the parting came after reaching their small farm, and he was on the road alone. Electrical storms are always most dangerous in that country area, and this night the lightning was flashing so repeatedly the sky seemed lit up continuously. Olivio could not remember seeing it quite like that ever before.
"Could this be the voice of God speaking to me?" he wondered aloud. "If it is, I had better not wait until I get home. I'd better tell Him that I will receive the Lord Jesus right now!" Olivio knelt on the rough road where he was, and allowed the Lord Jesus Christ to come into his heart.
As he continued his way homeward between the fields of peanuts and tobacco plants the lightning continued to flash, but a happiness filled his heart that left no room for fear, and he was soon safely home.
The missionary, Mr. George Walker, was very glad to hear Olivio's good news, and gave him a plain hard-backed Spanish Bible. Olivio turned it over and over just to get the feeling of it, for he had never held a Bible before! This was a real treasure, the greatest he had ever had. He was careful to always wash his hands before reading it, and at other times kept it carefully covered with a brown paper bag.
Some months later, after listening to God's Word being taught, and reading it carefully for himself, he learned that believers were baptized. This presented a puzzle to Olivio, for there was no water of any size near where he lived. The river and ocean were far away. Then one day as he was plowing with a yoke of oxen he took them to the watering trough which was hewn out of a large slab of limestone. It was seven feet long, and five feet wide. He had never heard of anyone being baptized in a watering trough, but why wouldn't this do? He would ask the missionary to come and examine his unusual "baptistery!"
A few days later about fifty Christians and a number of curious bystanders gathered together beside the oxen's watering trough, to watch Olivio obey his Lord by being baptized.
Olivio began to witness and to live for his Lord in earnest. His family and neighbors listened, and watched his life. He began to preach in the open air in the nearby town where he was well known, and in towns a little distance away. It was a wonderful day when his own father was finally won to the Lord! In the years that followed Olivio became a real soul winner for the Lord.
One day Mr. Walker received a letter from a man living seven hundred miles away who was anxious to hear the gospel, and wanted the missionary to come. The missionary was busy where he was, and also did not have enough money to make the trip, but he talked it over with his friend, Olivio, who was now about twenty years old.
"I have about a hundred dollars saved, do you suppose that I could go?" he asked, eagerly.
The missionary gave Olivio all the money he had and between the two of them there was enough for Olivio's fare.
The first part of his trip was by air, which was a great thrill for this country-boy! The fare, surprisingly, was lower than bus fare would have been. This was a new Cuban airline that had just opened up, and because the people were extremely frightened of plane travel, the company had reduced its fares to induce customers.
When Olivio left the plane he still had a great distance to travel, and for this he took an open air bus. This bus was without sides, so that people could carry their pigs and chickens and groceries on the outside steps! When this bus had taken him as far as it could he still had twenty more miles to go to reach his destination. This he had to make by foot.
The last twenty miles were gloriously beautiful! It was a stiff hike over very rugged mountain terrain, but Olivio was young and strong, and enjoyed every bit of it. He had to cross twenty-seven rivers and streams. Lovely stately palms and mahogany trees added their beauty, and he was in an area where the people raised much coffee and cocoa beans. They also grew the marijuana weed, and strangers traveled in that country at their own risk.
It was a weary but happy young man that finally reached his destination after nine hours of rugged hiking and climbing. When he found scores of people joyously welcoming him, eager to listen to the Word of God for the very first time he felt that he would have made the trip many times over most gladly!
In the days that followed many were saved, and a New Testament Church was formed. When Mr. Walker joined Olivio on his second trip he found twenty believers eager to be baptized.
When Castro established a Communist government in Cuba, Olivio suffered much because of his faith in Jesus Christ. So many restrictions were placed upon those that preached the gospel that Olivio felt he would have to leave Cuba and go somewhere where he would be able to serve the Lord freely. His plan was discovered by the authorities before he managed to escape, and he was sent to a slave labor camp.
In the camp the days were hard and long. Fourteen to sixteen hours daily, swinging a machete to cut down sugar cane, would earn a slip of paper to exchange for a bit of food at the commissary. No matter how hard and how long one worked, the food one was able to get never seemed adequate.
At certain times schools would be closed for weeks as the school children were loaded into trucks and taken to the camps, and sent out into the fields to work. Often they had to work side by side with criminals and evil men, and parents who feared especially for their lovely daughters' safety would go with them, and these were considered "Volunteer" workers.
Olivio no doubt found a moment now and then to share the gospel, but they were watched closely, and there was little or no "spare time. "
How Olivio escaped the camp, Mr. Walker does not know, but today he is serving the Lord in Spain. Recently he received a letter from him telling of the wonderful time he has been having, sharing the things of the Lord at a large Bible conference there in Spain, with over a thousand people in attendance.
Olivio, Cuban country-boy from a poor little back country farm, saved one night as he knelt on the rocky roadside with the sky bright with the flashing of lightning, baptized in an oxen watering trough, is today serving the King of kings, and is able to speak of His glories to vast audiences!
Olivio longs to come to this country and see the Americano who brought him the good news of salvation. He has made application for a visa, and is looking to God to provide his fare. But wherever he is or goes, this Cuban country-boy will be sharing the good news of salvation.
Will you pray for him?
Courtesy of BibleTruthPublishers.com. Most likely this text has not been proofread. Any suggestions for spelling or punctuation corrections would be warmly received. Please email them to: [email protected].