Some seventy years or so ago, a young mother bent over the cradle of her infant son, and earnestly pleaded with God that the precious little one committed by Him to her care might become His child through faith in Christ Jesus, and the life then opening be spent for His glory. The infant grew from infancy to childhood, and daily that mother pleaded with God for the conversion of her child, who, as he became able to take it in, was told in simple language of the love of God in the gift of His Son.
Years passed, and the child became a youth, but the story of redeeming love had no attraction for him. Wild and thoughtless, Jack was the “black sheep” of the family. Still his mother prayed, but those prayers seemed unanswered.
At the age of 23, Jack left home, and away from its restraints and godly influence, gave full rein to his sinful passions, and lived a life of drunkenness and debauchery. Still his mother prayed for him, although she knew not to what depths he had fallen. His employment took him to India, where he was frequently stationed in out-of-the-way places, often being the only European there; but though he hated God and His Christ, and His people, if ever a missionary passed near, he was sure to find Jack out, and remind him in some way of the home he had left, and the teaching at his mother’s knee. Frequently, too, was the abandoned man reminded by his own heart that the wonderful escapes and deliverances he had experienced were the results of that mother’s prayers.
Small wonder that the life he was living in an Indian climate resulted in serious illness, and Jack found himself in hospital at Madras. He recovered, however, and on being discharged from the hospital resolved to “have a fling” before returning to the lonely out-post where he was stationed. Accordingly he took a room in the officers’ quarters of the Sailors’ Home.
Many were staying there, but the aged couple who kept the house took a special interest in Jack. They were solicitous for his comfort, and invited him to their own rooms why, he could not think. But he went, and then after making him welcome and setting him at his ease, they began to speak to him of the love of God, and the finished work of the Lord Jesus.
Jack was touched! Surely it was true, and God must love him, guilty wretch as he was, or His people would not be so kind to him. His mother’s prayers must surely have been heard, and Jack felt really sorry for his sins, and determined to turn over a new leaf.
But he was in the grip of a despot that does not let his “lawful captive” easily go; he quickly plucked up the good seed that had been sown, and Jack returned to his life of sin more greedily than ever.
At length he left India, and with his wife and family settled in a well-known seaside resort in the South of England. Here he sank lower and lower, a constant drunkard and wife-beater. “I was cruel,” is his own verdict in recalling those days. His wife being an Irishwoman, attracted the interest of an Irish lady whose delight it was to carry the gospel of God to the poor and needy. She visited the house, and saw, alas! the evidences of the husband’s brutality and lust.
Lovingly and tenderly she told the poor wife of a Saviour who was willing and able to save her from her sins and to shield her from her husband’s ferocity, and supply all her need. The woman was interested, she would fain hear more; and when invited to a little mission room to hear the Gospel, gladly agreed to go. No sooner did Jack hear of this, however, than he swore she should not go, and threatened to kill her if she dared so to do. The woman was cowed, and when the lady-visitor again called, told how her husband had hindered her. Alas, she had allowed herself to be hindered, and from that time she lost the desire to be saved, and became antagonistic to the word, and people, of God.
The lady was deeply distressed. Jack was so hardened; what could she do? It is written, “If two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall desire, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven.” And relying on that word, the lady with two friends met specially one Saturday evening in May, 1885, for one purpose to pray for Jack’s conversion.
Did they know of the prayers that had been going up for thirty-eight years from his mother’s heart and lips? I cannot say, but God did. He had not forgotten to be gracious, and His time of deliverance was near.
Sunday dawned, and Jack got up. But what was the matter with him? He did not know; he only knew he was wretched and miserable, and more unhappy than he had ever been. He wandered about the house in an absent manner; but, strange to say, when 2 o’clock came, the time for opening the public house, it had no interest for him. It was only a few doors off, and it was always his custom to go in as soon as it opened, and remain till it closed, but to-day it had no attraction. At length he startled his wife by telling her to dress their eldest child, and he would take her out for a walk an unheard-of thing for him!
The woman did as he said, for she was too accustomed to his violence to thwart him in anything; and father and child set out together. Aimlessly, and listlessly, he wandered about, until in a back street he was attracted by the sound of singing proceeding from a small building which he entered. Little he thought that he and his child were entering the very mission room he had prevented his wife from attending under threat of death!
Hear his own words of what took place: “The speaker was picturing the love of the blessed Lord Jesus to the dying thief on Calvary, and revealed my life, as I thought, and the blessed Lord’s love to me. Thus were my eyes opened, and I saw myself a lost and ruined sinner, and He offering Himself and bearing the wrath of God there for me.”
The meeting closed, but Jack retained his seat. Then a lady approached him, and kindly inquired his name. He told her. Did he notice her start and the glad look in her eyes, as she said: “Oh, Miss S— would like to speak to you”!
“I don’t know any Miss S—” replied Jack, but she was soon at his side with her friend—two of the three who had met but twenty-four hours before to plead for his salvation.
“Will you accompany me home?” asked Miss S—
“No, certainly not.”
“Oh, do come. Your little girl will be quite comfortable with my servants, and I want to talk with you.”
And her manner was so kind and Jack was so wretched that at last he consented.
There in her drawing-room Miss S— and another lady (the third of that praying trio) told Jack again the story he had heard in the mission room, told him of God’s love to him manifested in the gift of Jesus; told how the Holy One had been made sin for him, and that by Him all that believe are justified from all things.
Heavier and heavier grew the weight of guilt on poor Jack’s conscience, until it was an actual physical relief when the lady said, “Let us pray,” and Jack could fall on his knees, a guilty sinner before God. For how to sit upright he did not know.
“You must pray for yourself,” she told him.
“I cannot,” groaned Jack; “I have never prayed. I don’t know what to say.” But realizing he was in the presence of God, the cry rose from the bottom of his bursting heart, and escaped his trembling lips, “O God, have mercy on me for Jesus’ sake.”
And in this day of salvation, none pleads for mercy, in that Name, in vain. Instantly the weight was gone, and Jack knew that God in Christ had forgiven him. He “felt in his body that he was healed of that plague,” and springing to his feet exclaimed, “Oh, I have got something now! where’s my girl? I must go home,” and he hurried from the house.
It did not take father and child long to reach home, where he found his wife in bed, whither she had gone to escape his expected violence.
“Get up, my lass,” was Jack’s greeting, “I have got something tonight,” but she only wrapped the bedclothes tighter round her. Then he told her what the something was forgiveness for the past, eternal life now and forever, and a bright hope through grace; and falling on his knees by the bed he gave thanks for the grace that had saved even him.
“Man, you’re mad!” she declared. But for thirty-three years she has had the witness that he was “not mad,” but speaking “the words of truth and soberness” (however much excitement there may have been as he realized the joy of sins forgiven), and that he got not only “something,” but some One that night nay, more, that that One had got him!
T.