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Chapter
XVIII
THE CROSS AND FRUITFULNESS
FROM THE DOHNAVUR FELLOWSHIP
in India comes this story. Various nurses had tried to interest a
certain woman, but she had never been concerned about the Way. They
were simply talking, she thought, and turned an unconcerned and uncomprehending
face upon them till she saw Kohila nursing a sick baby. She said
nothing for awhile. Then one day she said to her, "Why do you do
it? Why do you work for this baby night and day? What makes
you do it?" "It is nothing in me," said Kohila; "it is the love of my Lord
Jesus. It is He who gives me love for this baby:" "I have heard talk
about Him," said the woman, "but I thought it was only talk; now I have
seen Him, and I know it is not mere talk." She listened and accepted Christ
in truth, though she knew what it would cost when she returned home.
Two months after she had returned home--a strong woman--she was dead.
That death for her meant the end of what she had known must come--sharp
persecution for the sake of her new-found Lord; not peace, but a
sword. Before her unconcerned and uncomprehending face, Jesus Christ
had been "evidently set forth crucified" in Kohila. It is only as
we embrace and live the Cross that the world sees the Crucified today.
There is a sense in which Christ must be "lifted up" in flesh and
blood before the eyes of the world. Only thus can He still "draw
all men."
In reminding the Galatians
of the gospel he preached to them Paul says: "I placarded Christ crucified
before your eyes" (Lightfoot). The writer's spiritual father
was once falsely held up to the scorn and uncomprehending gaze of younger
and untaught men. The lambhood of Christ was. so exhibited by this
man of God that some observers thought him both stupid and ignorant of
the plotting of his foes. After the Lord had justified him discerning
saints said, "Well, before their eyes Jesus Christ has been set forth crucified
among them." Those who had observed the injustice and abuse heaped
upon the old saint felt drawn afresh to the wounded side of their Redeemer.
Robert Murray McCheyne says, "Men return again and again to the few
who have mastered the spiritual secret, whose life has been hid with Christ
in God. These are of the old-time religion, hung to the nails of
the Cross."
Writing from her place of
utmost suffering and exile in northern Siberia, "Mary" says, "There is
a Godless Society here; one of the members became especially attached to
me. She said, 'I cannot understand what sort of a person you a";
so many here insult and abuse you, but you love them all." She caused
me much suffering, but I prayed for her. Later she asked me whether
I could love her. Somehow I stretched out my hands toward her; we
embraced each other, and began to cry. Now we pray together.
Her name is Barbara."
A few months later another
letter came from Mary telling of Barbara's bold confession before the Godless
Society, and for which she was sent to prison. Mary says, "Yesterday
for the first time I saw our dear Barbara in prison. She looked very
thin, pale, and with marks of beatings. The only bright thing about
her was her eyes, bright, and filled with heavenly peace and even joy.
How happy are those who have it! It comes through suffering, hence
we must not be afraid of any sufferings or privations. I asked her,
through the bars, 'Barbara, are you not sorry for what you have done?
"No,' she firmly responded, 'if they would free me, I would go again and
tell my comrades about the marvelous love of Christ. I am very glad
that the Lord loves me so much and counts me worthy to suffer for Him."'
(Quoted in Romans by Wm. Newell.) Note that the Lamb of God
so indwelt Mary that Barbara caught her first glimpse of the supernatural
Saviour, and was drawn unto Him. She could not understand, but she
felt that Mary had a spiritual secret. Mary bad embraced her cross.
There Christ was seen. Mary's love for her enemies was the
key which opened Barbara's heart.
O Christ! who once has seen
Thy visioned beauty--
He counts all gain but loss,
And other things are naught
if he may win Thee
And share with Thee Thy
Cross.
And he on whom its shadow
once has fallen,
Walks quietly and apart;
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