Scofield, the engineer, faced the visiting evangelist defiantly. “No, sir,” he said emphatically; “there is no place for religion in a factory! Why, even my engine won’t run if I don’t swear at times.”
Behind him Tom, the foreman, snickered, and Scofield angrily ordered him off to another job. He began to be very busy, opening and shutting off valves, oiling the slides, and giving the appearance of being much too busy to talk.
The visitor held out his hand, saying, “I must leave you now, but will you not give the subject some thought?”
The engineer shook his head. “It’s no place for religion, I tell you,” he said. “To my mind, factories ought never to have been built. God intended man to live out in the free air and enjoy nature. There is plenty of room for religion out of doors, but here, where the very pulleys swear at their work - where machines shriek and curse - here is no place for religion.”
“Tom,” cried Scofield after the evangelist had left, “come on back - I was out of sorts when I spoke.”
“I couldn’t help laughing, though,” said Tom, wiping the sweat from his face. “You know that you never did try to do anything without swearing.”
The engineer made no reply, but most vividly the foreman’s words came back to him again and again.
Was it as bad as that? Could he do nothing without swearing? He resolved to test himself. He would begin early next morning and for every curse he uttered he would drop a small brass nail into a glass that was in the window. He rather thought that the glass would be empty at night, now that he had made his mind up.
The next day came. Scofield rose at five as usual, and going downstairs in his stocking feet stepped on a tack. The volley of oaths that followed counted out seven nails for the glass. The pancakes, a missing button, the cat, a slow clock and the remembrance of his purpose scored five more.
Then, with grim determination, he shut his mouth and said not a word more until he reached the engine room, where he counted out the nails and threw them into the glass with an oath - yes, an oath of relief. He was half across the room before the last one dawned upon him, but true to his purpose he walked back and put another nail in the glass.
All day long he struggled, and at night the glass held thirty nails. Scofield was startled. He had never dreamed that the habit had such a grip on him. He had thought his willpower was equal to any test.
At last he went to “Christian Tim,” an old man in the steelworks, and told him the whole affair. Tim pondered a while, and then said: “You may be able to leave off in time by your own willpower, but I know a better way.”
“What is it?” asked the engineer.
“Ask the help of the Lord Jesus Christ,” said Tim earnestly. “Hasn’t He heard every oath? Isn’t it against Him that you have sinned?” And Tim went on to tell him of Christ the Saviour who could give him a new nature and a new life - eternal life. All the old oaths and curses and every other sin he had ever committed could be washed away and gone forever. He could never make himself perfect, never make himself good enough for the presence of God by exercising his willpower.
“I had the same experience myself years ago,” said Tim, and went on to tell him how he had simply stopped trying to be better and turned in simple faith to the Lord Jesus Christ. He had learned that when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly, and had thankfully accepted the free gift of God.
He added, “Now I never feel the least inclination to swear. And as for being happy - I can hardly tell where the days go!”
The evangelist called on Scofield again and was greeted warmly. The engineer happily told him that the great change had come both to him and to foreman Tom. He said, “There is a Bible in that desk, and we find time to read some in it every day. And to tell the truth, I believe the work is less hard, the wheels run more smoothly, the valves are tighter, and the whole place is lighter, cleaner and better!”
Vvv