“My mask is all worn out with teardrops
At night when it’s laid on the shelf;
I may make the world think I’m happy,
But I can’t hide the truth from myself.”
The above lines spoken by a famous clown years ago might well have applied to a young comedian named Sidi Musa.
Sidi was a professional entertainer and singer. He sang and told side-splitting stories wherever he could find a group to listen. His contagious good humor and endless repertoire of funny songs and jokes never failed to captivate, amuse and thoroughly entertain.
To those who knew him, life to Sidi Musa appeared to be one long series of lyrics, laughs and jokes. If one of his many fans had been asked to point out a happy man—a man without a care regarding life or death—he would probably have pointed to Sidi Musa.
But was this really true of him? No! Behind the mask of careless frivolity lived the real Sidi Musa, a young man with an empty heart, an accusing conscience and a sad, gnawing anxiety over the future of his soul. He was in the dark—and he knew it—and he longed for light.
As a religious Moslem, he prayed more than tradition enjoined, even to the point of wearing himself out. What little money he made he spent to buy help from the “reader” class. He appealed to them constantly that they would give him from the Koran a single verse upon which he could anchor his soul. It was to no avail; no such verse was found for him.
One day, driven to despair, he filled his shoes with small pebbles and walked some fifty miles, hoping and praying that Allah would look down with favor upon his self-inflicted penance and give him his heart’s desire—peace.
Perhaps you, like Sidi Musa, are wearing a mask of gaiety and mirth as a cover-up for an empty, sin-burdened heart. You may be “the life of the party,” but your popularity will never remove your dread of eternity or give peace to your soul. There is One and only One who can give you abiding rest and peace. That one is Jesus, and to you He calls at this moment. He would have you know that He has “made peace through the blood of His cross.”
All of poor Sidi Musa’s efforts only proved to him that his prayers, fasts and self-inflicted wounds could bring him no peace. But the Lord Jesus, who loves to give rest to the heavy-laden, sought him out, saved his soul and gave him eternal peace.
Like every conversion to Christ, Sidi Musa’s salvation was a miracle. His restless travels took him one afternoon to a Moorish market where thousands of Arabs were gathered to barter, buy and sell. It was never an easy place for a Christian missionary to preach the gospel. The persecution was keen, and Sidi Musa mingled with the hostile crowd and joined in opposition.
But in spite of the demonstration, Sidi Musa’s ears were quick to pick up the strange and wonderful words of the preacher. Wonderful words of life! They subdued his anger and constrained him to withdraw from the noisy rabble and stand close to the speaker where he could drink in every word of the message.
When the crowd finally dispersed and the missionary departed, Sidi Musa discreetly followed him to his home. There he anxiously inquired if it were really true that one could know, here and now, that he had passed from death to life, and know that he was saved?
When assured by the missionary from the Word of God that it was really true, he exclaimed: “Man, I have prayed and toiled and suffered for this! To think that God grants me eternal life on these terms. It is wonderful, wonderful!”
He believed, and he was saved.
Sidi Musa is now at home with his Saviour, Jesus, but I will always remember his visit to the missionary. Often when I see the heedless, the careless, the prodigal, living in apparent disregard of all the grace and claims of Christ, I think, Let me tell them of the love of the Lord Jesus, for who Knows but that behind that ripple of laughter, that boast, that joKe, there may beat a sin-burdened, inquiring heart.