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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