Part 1.
HIS name was Eirik, and he lived in the last of a row of fishermen’s huts on the rugged cliff outside the village of Hofsos, facing the rough swelling waters of the mighty Skagafjord, one of the broadest fjords on the north coast of Iceland.
Poverty had always been one of his nearest acquaintances. She had come to live with him soon after he was married, and he had never since been able to turn her out of the home.
Once, faint and hungry through lack of food, Eirik attempted to put an end to himself. He took down his shot gun, loaded it kicked off his shoe and put the barrel of the gun into his mouth. While fumbling for the trigger with his toe, he swooned and fell. On coming to, he called on God, if there really was a merciful God in heaven, to give him some food, and prayed that he would send a bird that way for him to shoot. He went down to the beach and looked around. A large bird came flying past, and with an effort the half-starved man raised his gun and fired. The bird fell and Eirik learned for the first time that God hears and answers prayer.
Years passed on, and Eirik’s long struggle with poverty continued. Motor boats were multiplying, and getting the pick of the fishing harvest, and it became more and more difficult for the owners of small rowing boats, such as Eirik’s, to pay their way. The long, weary toil on the icy waters of the fjord was hard upon the man’s health, badly clothed and fed as he was. One day, after unusually great exertion, hemorrhage from the lungs commenced. He grew worse and worse, until he had to go to the nearest doctor. It was not consumption as Eirik feared, but the doctor could not cure him. He tried another doctor, a long way off, with the same result. He borrowed money, and going to a larger town, went from one native doctor to another—his purse getting lighter and lighter, and his heart heavier and heavier in the process, and finally was brought to the conclusion that he was incurable. Utter ruin stared him in the face. At last someone said to him, “Why don’t you try the English missionary? At all events it won’t cost you anything!”
So he came. I remember the day he walked into my dispensary and told me that his “back” would bleed. We located the trouble in his back, because that was where he felt the pain. I gave him some medicine, I confess with little hope of success, but with a prayer that it might be useful to him. He left with some tracts in his pocket, promising to write and let me know how he progressed.
A month later I received a long letter from him, giving good news of his health and asking for a fresh supply of medicine.
Before many months had passed Eirik was able to row his boat with any man—well and strong once more. Best of all, he had found the Saviour of whom I had written to him.
His zeal was extraordinary for an Icelarder, and he wrote me saying that he longed to use the, health God had given him to help to spread the gospel that had blessed his soul, and he offered to travel round his country and sell Testaments and gospel books. It seemed fitting to him that the “back” that God had healed. should bear a pack of books for God over the hills and valleys of Skagafjord county. He plodded on, week after week, sometimes in deep snow, until every house in the county had been visited with the printed message of the gospel. He is now the most successful colporteur I am in touch with, though he is only able to give spare time to this work.
At first the neighbors could not understand Eirik. “Swear words” began to be excluded from his speech, and when I add that the average Icelander can with difficulty carry on a simple conversation without continually swearing, you will understand better what this meant. Other things showed that Eirik was not as they were, and this caused a sullen disagreeable opposition to arise. But are we not told that “They which will live godly, shall suffer persecution,” so we need not be surprised at this. Though the neighbors could not understand it, Eirik had, with all his poverty, a precious possession they knew nothing of, and God gave him grace to bear their taunts and neglect with patience. Perhaps another day I can tell you how God enabled him to overcome evil with good.
ML 08/06/1916