At the close of a meeting a young man asked me for an interview.
"I want to have a little talk with you," said he, "if you don't mind. I am a skeptic. I don't believe in anything.”
"Lots of fellows are skeptics nowadays, and it's not very easy to help them. What do you want to know?”
"Well, would you kindly try and prove to me that Christ really exists.”
"Why should I? He doesn't interest you at all, if you are a skeptic.”
"Well," he said, "I am very miserable, and find things unsatisfactory. I have been wondering whether I could get any proof about this.”
"Supposing you did; what next?”
"Well, I might become a Christian.”
"Is it worth your while—being a skeptic?”
"Well, I am utterly miserable and wretched.”
"That's no wonder," I said, "and I'm not going to waste two minutes in trying to prove to you that Christ exists.”
"Why not?”
"Because I'm not sure it is possible to do so to a skeptic." I answered.”
"I wish you'd try. You have no idea how dark and miserable I am.”
"Perhaps I will, if you will kindly prove to me something first.”
"What's that?" said he.
"That you are your mother's son!" "That's easy enough.”
"All right; fire away. How will you begin?”
He sat thinking for some time, and then said, "I'm blest if I know how to begin!”
"That's just my fix, too, about proving Christ exists. I don't know how to begin. Look here. All you can tell me is, that so far back as you can remember someone taught you to call her mother, and she called you her own son; and you have both gone on doing it ever since. Has it worked all right?”
"Certainly it has.”
"Are you satisfied that she is your mother?”
"Perfectly so.”
"Can you prove it?”
"No, but I'm perfectly satisfied she is.”
"And so am I, that Christ exists. Many years ago I first began to call Him my Savior, and to obey Him as such; and He has called me His, and it works perfectly. I have no further proof for you than that.”
"How can I find Him out for myself, then?" he asked.
"Very quickly and simply," I answered, "if you are thoroughly honest in the inquiry.”
"Yes, indeed I am.”
"Suppose you were ever to be lost in the bush, you could only do one thing—stand still and 'Coo-ee' (a New Zealand call). Then if one of whose existence you had no knowledge, heard your 'Coo-ee', he would answer, and you two would keep it up until he found you and took you out. You've got to 'Coo-ee' to the Lord Jesus Christ. If He exists, He will hear. If He hears, He will answer. He will come to you and lead you out of the dark.”
"That is simple enough!”
"Will you Coo-ee?" I asked him.
"Yes.”
"When will you begin?”
"Here and now," he said.
"Then just kneel down and begin right away." He dropped on his knees, and began in some such words as these, "O Lord Jesus, I don't know whether You exist or not, but I am lost, I am 'bushed.' Can you save me?”
He paused, and I then began to pray with him, watching his pale, anxious face. Presently I saw a great smile steal over it, and I stopped, feeling sure that God was working.
"Does He exist?" I asked him.
"Of course He does."
"How do you know?”
"He has taken me out of the dark, and I am His. He has saved me. He is my Savior.”
"Are you satisfied?"
"Perfectly.”
We rose, and after a few words we parted. More than a year passed away, when I was accosted on a train by a young man with a good-sized Bible under his arm.
"Do you remember me?”
"No," I said, "I can't say I do.”
"The Coo-ee fellow at H—! That was a grand night's work. I have been reading this Book ever since, and it is just grand.”