His name was Keruba. He was chief of one of those bands of robbers which infested a great part of India long ago. Throughout the region he was notorious as the boldest bandit ever known.
With his own hands he had murdered twenty innocent victims, some of whom were women and children. But in the height of his career, the British government made its power felt, and the robbers in their turn became terrified at the sight of British soldiers.
Keruba found that his men were now afraid to join him in his plundering raids. A few of the bravest still followed him, but when some of these were killed the rest fled for their lives. Depressed and discouraged, he wandered here and there not knowing what to do.
Old age found him utterly deserted by followers and friends. He had no home but among the rocks in the hills. And only with great difficulty could he find enough food to satisfy his hunger. He dared not go to the villages where he was known, lest he should be arrested.
His conscience too became aroused, and smote him for all his wicked deeds. In his dreams he would hear over and over again the dying shrieks of the victims he had butchered in cold blood. He seemed to see their ghostly arms stretched out to tear him to pieces.
Thus haunted and distracted he wandered from one place to another, till at last he reached villages where he was not known. Here, as if to atone for his sins, he gave alms to the poor. He went on long pilgrimages; he spent days and nights worshiping the idols; he tortured his body: and the people thought that a very holy man had come among them. They called him their Gooroo or priest, and came to him for advice and counsel. Some even bowed down and worshiped him. But still his mind was not at ease.
Nothing he did could take away the sting of those horrible murders. They haunted him night and day till he thought of killing himself. But the fear of death was more terrible to him than the pangs of remorse.
As a last hope he decided to go to the sacred river Ganges, which was several hundred miles away. This distance he resolved to crawl on his hands and knees. There he would wash, for it was said that washing in the holy waters of the Ganges would make the vilest sinner clean. Still Keruba had not much faith even in this remedy; he felt that his sins were too monstrous to be ever taken away.
While on this pilgrimage he entered a large city to attend an idolatrous celebration. As he moved about he heard the clear, silvery tone of an American bell, so different from the Hindu bells. He made inquiries and was told that it was the bell which rang every Sunday to call the Christians to worship.
Christians? Who were they? He had never heard of them. He went in the direction of the sound, and came at length to a large building. People were flocking in, and after a moment's hesitation Keruba also entered.
When the preacher read his text: "The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin," (1 John 1:77But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. (1 John 1:7)), he was aroused, and listened with deepest interest. The preacher caught sight of Keruba's eager anxious face and preached "Christ and Him crucified," with uncommon power.
The service ended and the people left the place; but Keruba lingered until the missionary came out. Stepping up to him, he said:
"Sahib, is all that you have said true?"
"It is," said the missionary, "for it is just what God Himself has told us."
"Well, Sahib, you say that the blood of Jesus Christ can cleanse us from all sin. Can it take away the stain of murder?"
"Yes, indeed it can. If the murderer truly believes on the Lord Jesus Christ, God declares that `whosoever believeth in Him shall receive remission of sins' " (Acts 10:4343To him give all the prophets witness, that through his name whosoever believeth in him shall receive remission of sins. (Acts 10:43)).
"Well, but, Sahib, supposing a man has committed two murders, can he be forgiven them?" "He can."
"Five murders?"
"Yes, even five."
"Supposing he had murdered ten innocent persons?" said the man earnestly.
"God can forgive and blot out ten murders." "But, Sahib, supposing it's twenty instead of ten?"
"God will forgive twenty murders for the sake of His Son Jesus Christ."
"Then He's the God for me!" exclaimed the man, tears filling his eyes and streaming down his hard cheeks. "O God have pity on me, for I have murdered twenty poor innocent victims! Sahib," he added, "will He forgive me?"
The missionary grasped his hand and wept with him, while Keruba gradually unfolded to him the whole story of his life, and of his torture of mind during the past years. He told how he had tortured himself, and tried every means to ease his conscience, but all in vain.
"But now," he exclaimed, "I've found the Lamb of God. You say He died for me. I feel here, in my heart, that it is true. Oh! Jesus Christ, I want You! Oh, take away my sin!"
And as twilight stole into the chapel the missionary and the robber knelt and prayed; and Keruba, owning Christ as Savior and Lord, rose from his knees. His heavy burden was gone the Lord had taken it away.
In a few days he returned to his people and told them what had happened; how wicked, and wretched, and miserable he had been; but that the Lord Jesus Christ, the Savior of the guilty had given him pardon and peace.
They all wondered at his words, but more than all at his radiant, happy face, so changed from what it had been. Many were led by him to inquire and to believe as he did.
As before he had won followers to himself to rob, so now, with all his zeal and might, he strove to win followers to Christ.