Henry had prided himself on being an atheist. He was an active member of a group of young fellows who, in order to give themselves full license to do as they pleased and to stifle the cries of conscience, vainly sought to deny the existence of God, the truth of the Bible, and the judgment of all those who die in their sins.
One day Henry and his infidel friends were in Rome and visited the catacombs, those underground caves and tunnels in which the early Christians sought refuge from their cruel persecutors. Many who had died for their faith in Christ were buried there.
Henry and his companions gaily wandered along the long corridors, making them resound with the echoes of their loud blasphemous talk and profane songs. Being more venturesome than the rest, Henry had left them to explore some of the more distant galleries. After some little time he lost his way in the labyrinth, as many had done before. Then while seeking his way out, his light went out, and he was left in total darkness in the underground city of the dead. He still groped his way along, but all in vain. Then when thoroughly worn out with his fruitless efforts and full of the horror of the situation, his hands went into a heap of human bones, and he shuddered and fell exhausted on the floor.
Of what was he so afraid, if there were no God, no judgment, no eternity? If a man dies like an animal and that is the last of him, how shall we account for the dread of death which is so natural to him? What is the inward voice that appeals so loudly at such a moment? How many a proud professing infidel has found no comfort in his atheism when the icy hand of death has seized his heart!
The folly and wickedness of Henry’s past life rose up before him, and his infidelity fled before the accusing sight. In a few minutes he was on his knees crying to the God whom he had just blasphemed and reviled.
“Save me! save me!” were his agonizing cries.
The whole night passed before his friends, assisted by guides, were able to find and rescue him. But in the meantime the Spirit of God had wrought so deeply in his soul the sense of his sinfulness and so revealed the Saviour who loved him in spite of all his sin and rejection of Himself, that Henry passed “from death unto life.” He who had entered the catacombs a bold young infidel emerged from the darkness a new man, “born again.”
His companions sought to move his new convictions with sarcasm and railing, but in vain. God had met him, and when God meets a sinner, the words of mere men (who apart from the revelation of God know nothing of the future) are of little or no importance.
ML-05/27/1979