As far as his soul was concerned, young Steve began his career in anything but a hopeful manner. As a boy, he was the despair of his schoolteachers and neighbors. Even his own parents could do nothing with him. It seemed that he came to Sunday school for the sole purpose of displaying the most outrageous conduct. It was often a question with his teacher as to how long his disturbances ought to be endured. There is no denying the fact that when he finally left home and disappeared, the neighborhood sighed with relief.
Years went by. No word came from the troublesome boy. Then one weekend, about a month before World War I broke out, he returned to his hometown for a visit. He found the same preacher, as usual, holding an open-air service. “He careth for you” was the text, and twice over, in a ringing voice, the preacher repeated the four wonderful words. Ignoring a low whistle almost in his ear, he proceeded to tell the old, old story of God’s love and pity.
“Remember this: however careless you may be about the future of your soul, God cares what becomes of you. He cares so much that He sent His only Son to die, so that He might make a way from earth to heaven for those who sinned.
In simple words the preacher tried to reach the heart and conscience of the crowd around him. All the while the whistling grew louder and more insistent. Finally it merged into a definite song: “I don’t care what becomes of me!”
Obliged to turn around at this, the preacher saw that the disturber was a young sailor, with H.M.S. Pathfinder on his cap. Beneath the gilt letters, in spite of added years and the new uniform, were the unmistakable features of his old, unruly pupil. As he had gone, so had he returned, precisely the same wild, reckless spirit that in the past had created so much trouble.
Delighted with the attention he was receiving, our sailor renewed his charge with added vigor. “I don’t care what becomes of me,” he chanted. “I don’t care what becomes of me,” and he accompanied his song with a dance.
The preacher dismissed the interrupted meeting. Before Steve could make his escape, he grasped him by the arm and led him away. Once clear of the crowd, he began to reason with him about his behavior. The only response to his appeal was the same refrain: “I don’t care what becomes of me.”
“Do you care about nothing?” the preacher finally asked. “Wouldn’t you care if you knew you must die tonight?”
“Not I” was the answer. And again the song began: “I don’t care what becomes of me!”
Feeling that words were useless, the preacher turned sadly away. A second thought came to him. “Wait a moment,” he said, and from his pocket he produced a little book. On the back of the book he wrote in large clear letters: “IF I DIE TONIGHT, I SHALL GO TO H_______.”
He handed it to the sailor. “If you really do not care what becomes of your soul,” he said, “before you go to bed tonight finish writing that last word. Then sign your name to it. Only remember, there are two ways in which that last word can be spelled.
Defiantly, the young fellow took the little book and swaggered down the street, still singing, “I don’t care what becomes of me.”
Sadly the preacher went his way, praying with his whole heart and soul that the rebellious young life might be transformed by the grace of God.
To tell the truth, not much faith was in that prayer, but it is not always according to a man’s faith that answers are given. The very next day who should be at the morning service but the heckler of the previous evening! At the close of the meeting a very subdued young man made his way down the aisle and followed the preacher into his study. He wasted no time on preliminaries.
“I’m just miserable,” he said with a shudder. “I couldn’t go to sleep last night. I couldn’t finish that last word, for I do care what becomes of me. I know where I should go, if I died now.”
Sin lay like a heavy burden on his mind: sin that deserved punishment. “If I died tonight, I would go to hell,” he added miserably.
“But Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners from hell,” answered the preacher triumphantly. “He knew the horrors of that awful place, and He died to deliver us from it.”
Glancing down at the letters on the young man’s cap, which was revolving nervously in his hands, he went on: “The Lord Jesus is our Pathfinder. He found a plan by which He could make a path for sinners from earth to heaven. It cost Him His very life to make that way, but He thought it worthwhile to die in our place and open the gates of heaven to all believers.
“Listen to this: ‘I am the Way,’ says the Saviour Himself. You see, He Himself is the way that leads to heaven, and the wonderful part is that ‘whosoever will’ may come to Him.”
Not all at once, but little by little the worry-lines faded from Steve’s face. By the grace of God he gradually saw that faith in the finished work of the Lord Jesus Christ is all that God requires from sinners for admission into His family and His home. After a few broken words of humble, thankful prayer, the forgiven sailor went on his way rejoicing.
Two days later the young sailor appeared again. This time he came to say good-bye. His whole attitude spoke of the miraculous change that had taken place. He gave every evidence of one who did most earnestly repent and was heartily sorry for his misdoing. By the grace of God he intended to lead a new life in Christ. With a last handshake, a last “God bless you,” the boy was off to rejoin his ship.
For just one month after the outbreak of war the Pathfinder did her share in guarding the coast. Then, torpedoed off Harwich, she sank immediately, and two hundred and fifty men perished with her. Among them was the once “don’t care” Steve, now caring so deeply for his Lord and for his shipmates that several of them were convinced to follow his example and to look to the Saviour as their own hope of eternal salvation.