George Smeale, on vacation, was visiting a large museum. Soon he found himself standing before a large glass case containing a human skeleton. It was labeled “A Perfect Specimen.” With a slight shiver, he turned to a man at his elbow and remarked: “It takes all the conceit out of you when you think you have to come to that, doesn’t it?”
The man smiled, as he replied, “I’m hoping to be gone before that.”
George gave him a quick glance. “Expecting to get annihilated by an atomic bomb perhaps?” he asked.
“No,” answered the other man, “I’m expecting the fulfillment of a promise which may take place anime now. If I’m alive when it happens I shall certainly disappear, but it will not be by means of an atomic bomb. You see, my friend, I’m a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and He has promised to return and take us to be with Himself—all His own, the living with the dead.”
A group of young people came along that moment and surrounded the glass case. In the midst of their joking and smothered laughter, George slipped away.
The two met again, but this time in the picture gallery. There John Day sat alone looking at a large canvas. At first George decided against going in, but an unexplained urge seemed to force him forward, and he too sat down.
“Excuse me,” he began, “but would you mind going on with what you were saying when we were examining the skeleton?”
“Certainly; I was telling you of the Christian’s hope. Is it something new to you?”
“N-No. My parents thought as you did. They died long ago.”
“Then—you were doubtless the child of many prayers?”
George bowed his head. “Yes, once when a boy at Sunday School, I decided for Christ, but—” he shook his head sadly.
John Day laid a hand on his arm. Said he, “Once His, always His. We sometimes get out of communion, lose touch with Him, but He never does.”
A most helpful talk followed. At the end of it, George’s eyes were shining. At last he found that, backslider though he was, and had wandered far from God, still the Lord loved him, and welcomed him back into His presence again.
“Thank God for guiding me here today,” said George humbly but thankfully.
ML-02/13/1966