It was late afternoon in southern Florida.
We had just come out of the Municipal Hospital, where we were permitted to give gospel tracts and portions of Scripture to the patients. The sight of suffering humanity, listless in the summer heat, so engrossed with their own physical discomforts, aches, and pains that eternal values held little interest for them, had depressed and saddened us.
Some of those we had just left were evidently near the end. Little response could be expected. With them we were content to quote a verse or two of Scripture pointing them to the Savior, and with a brief prayer commend them to Him. As we had passed quietly from bed to bed, only a few had shown anything but indifference to the words of Eternal Life. Even among the convalescents interest centered in ills recently borne and complaints of present trials. No time could be spared to “consider Him” Who said: “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” As we busied ourselves stowing away the remaining tracts and Gospels in the car compartment, a great hulk of a man came swinging down the street. He came nearer, and we saw that he was colored. His skin, like weathered bronze, glistened in the hot sunshine, and his great hands on the cross bars of his crutches looked strong and capable.
His shirt, open at the throat, was wet with perspiration; and the right trouser leg, folded above the knee and tucked into his belt, mutely proclaimed a cripple. Here, we thought, is one who has reason to complain. But to our surprise, as he swung near us on his one leg and crutches, his dark face greeted us with a beaming smile! Encouraged, we offered him a booklet, saying as we did so, “This will tell you how you may know you are saved for eternity.”
The smile broadened as, resting on his crutches, he received the little book. “Maybe I know already. Yes, suh; maybe I know already. The Lord had to clip my wing to get me, but now I praise Him for it.”
We listened as he told us the story: early childhood in a large family with never enough of anything; pious parents who accepted their meager lot with meekness and patience; his rebellion as a lad against poverty and religion, synonymous to him; his determination when a man to have and enjoy all he had lacked as a child. This determination and his naturally fine physique stood him in good stead during years of striving for the things of earth.
But “what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”
During the years when he was putting forth every effort to get the things he longed for, he steadfastly stifled every thought of God and of eternity. All his time, his thought, his energy had one object—to gain that which would insure his having necessities, comforts, and luxuries. But “O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!” Rom. 11:3333O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out! (Romans 11:33).
One day an annoying little spot appeared on his leg. Perhaps it was an insect’s bite, or maybe the rash of -heat, that started it.
In spite of simple home treatments the spot spread and deepened rapidly. In a few days’ time a serious infection had set in. By the time he was willing to submit to medical advice, surgery was the only recourse.
He lay on the hospital bed, bitterly rebellious at the loss of his leg, the loss of time, the loss of money, the loss of all he had striven for. When one approached his bed with words of sympathy and comfort, he turned his face to the wall and pretended not to hear. After his visitor was gone, he found the little tract on his bed-table and angrily seized it. But before he could destroy it, the bold type of the title caught his eye: “The Lamb With the Broken Leg.” Sneeringly at first, and then with interest, he read of the shepherd who had deliberately broken the leg of the willful, disobedient, little creature. Then the tender care, the loving ministry, the constant presence and watchfulness shown to the helpless lamb. How could it help responding with all its love and loyalty?
As he read, our friend saw himself in that lamb—willful, going his own way. And the shepherd? Yes, he remembered that the Lord, the Good Shepherd, had spoken of seeking a poor, lost sheep. And more—a verse from early days came to mind: “The Good Shepherd giveth His life for the sheep.” John 10:1111I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. (John 10:11).
Tears filled the eyes of our friend as he recounted the story of his conversion. In simplicity he had accepted the Lord Jesus as his Savior and Shepherd; he had committed himself into His care and keeping, and with certainty and joy could say with the Psalmist: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want!”
As he turned to go, he called back over his shoulder a word of encouragement: “Maybe in this hospital today you have given a tract to another ‘lamb with a broken leg”!