Caught in a sudden summer shower, I dashed for shelter. A young man was ahead of me, and he promptly started a conversation, saying, “I have just come from Australia on a ship.”
“What kind of life was it on board ship?” I asked.
“Well, the sailors were a wicked, swearing lot. It was awful to hear the way they went on, but I did not mix very much with them. I made friends with the first mate, and he was a religious sort of a man.”
“A religious sort of a man—what is that?”
“Well, I suppose you know people who sing hymns and say prayers, and so on? Some of them will tell you that they know their sins are forgiven.”
“Did your friend, the first mate, say that his sins were forgiven?”
“Yes, and I believe they are.”
“Suppose the ship had gone to the bottom with all on board, what would have become of all those swearing men?”
“They would all be lost.”
“What do you mean—lost for all eternity?”
“Yes. I’m sure they would be.”
“And what would have become of your friend, the first mate?”
“Oh, he would go to heaven.”
“And where would you have gone?”
“Why, I suppose to hell.”
“Do you really believe that? And are you satisfied to go on as you are?”
“Yes, I do believe it. I wish I were a Christian! My father and mother are Christians, and I expect they often pray for me. I could never see nor understand the way for myself.”
I took out my Bible and said, “Do you believe this to be the Word of God?”
“Certainly I do. I never doubted.”
“Then will you simply believe the verse I will read to you from God’s Word?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Does that mean to say that if I apply that to myself, I shall be saved?”
“Yes, for God says, ‘He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life.’ ”
“Then I do here and now believe that Christ died for my sins. This is what I have longed to know for myself. Thank you, thank you for telling me. Oh, won’t I make Mother and Father glad! I am a Christian!”