A young Christian went around to a few houses with tracts—a fine work for young believers. At one door he knocked and received no answer; so he knocked again, and again.
Presently he heard someone coming, and the door opened; but only a very little way. He at once presented his tract, and it was at once grabbed, drawn in, and the door closed. He saw that just through the opening was a man, and that was all.
Not a very encouraging opening; but the distributor believed, (did I not say he was a young believer?) and believing he called again the following Sunday. He did not have to knock twice, for the door flew open as if by magic.
“Come in,” said the man, the same, yet not the same: and shutting the door behind his guest, he led the way upstairs. There appeared to be no third person in the house.
“Are you afraid?” asked the mysterious man.
“No,” replied the young believer. He needed to be a very firm believer just then, for his guide was evidently bent on getting as far from the ground as possible. Up, up, up and up to an attic room they went.
Opening a door, he led his visitor into a scene that might have made the stoutest quail. From a beam hung a rope, on the rope was a noose, and beneath the noose stood a box.
“Are you afraid?”
“No,” said the child of God, feeling that he was in the presence of his Father even then.
“Then let me tell you that when you knocked last Sunday night, my feet were upon that box, and my head in that noose. I made up my mind not to answer you; when you kept on knocking, I thought I would see who it was before I hung myself. I came down, took your tract, turned here and read it. It was so blessed to me, that I am here alive.”
ML-10/30/1977