The old man sat in an easy chair on the wide porch of his niece’s home enjoying the warmth of the early summer. It was one of a terrace of houses in a quiet little street not far from the center of the town.
Tripping gaily along the road came Brenda Grant, and when she saw the old man she stopped. She thought that she knew everyone who lived in the terrace, but this elderly man was a stranger to her. Brenda was a friendly soul, and she felt that she simply must speak to him.
“Good morning, Gramps, I have not seen you before.”
“My name is Brown, and I have come to live with my niece.”
“Did you want to come?” asked the child.
“No, I cannot say that I did, but I have been ill, and the doctor insisted on my coming to someone who could look after me.”
“I am sorry; are you going to live here always?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Then we must be friends.”
Friends they certainly became, and often the child would carry a little stool, take up her position close to her elderly friend, and carry on an animated conversation.
One Saturday morning Brenda appeared carrying her little stool. “Mr. Brown,” she said as she seated herself, “tomorrow is a special day at our mission, will you come with us?”
The old man’s face hardened. “No, I gave up all that sort of thing long ago.”
“But why?”
“I had a bitter experience. I lost my wife and child in six months, and I have never been to church since. It was hard to lose all I’d got.”
“Then you used to go?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Did they go with you?”
“Certainly they did; my wife was a lovely Christian, and my Mary was a sweet child.”
Brenda thought for a moment, and then said with her childish frankness: “Mr. Brown, it’s not much good your giving up God, is it? Your wife and Mary are with Jesus, but you will go to hell.”
Mr. Brown took this downright statent very quietly, simply replying: “I had not thought of it like that.”
“Well, you want to see them again, don’t you?”
“Yes, very badly.”
“Then why not come with us tomorrow, and make a fresh start?”
“I’ll think about it. I used to play a number of hymns on my concertina.” “Have you still got it?”
“Yes, it’s inside.”
“Play a tune on it for me, please, Mr. Brown.”
“Come along, then; we’ll go and find it.”
The old man took the instrument out of its case, adjusted it, and soon the tender strains of “What a Friend we have in Jesus” filled the room.
Mr. Brown could not get rid of the child’s words. “They are with Jesus — you will go to hell.” They rang in his ears all the remainder of the day, and came to him when he awoke during the night.
“If Brenda comes for me tomorrow, I will go with her,” he at length decided.
Brenda did come for him, and he sat by her in the gospel meeting, her mother and father on her other side.
The hearty singing of the once familiar hymns brought tears to his eyes. His heart melted as the simple message of the love of God was told out by the speaker. His hardness and bitterness disappeared, and the joy of having a living Saviour filled his soul, and he found peace and forgiveness in Him who loved him and gave Himself for him.
ML 05/17/1959