The Answer to a Chinese Convert’s Faith by W. A. S.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jul 27, 1911

The Answer to a Chinese Convert’s Faith

By W. A. S.

IN emphasizing her testimony to the truth that God is still the living God, who does things on earth, Mrs. Howard Taylor, of the China Inland Mission, gives the experience of an elderly convert named Li, who did gospel work in the Yoh-yang district, and conducted a refuge for opium-smokers who were seeking deliverance from that evil habit.

Soon after his conversion from idol-worship, he found the text, “Covetousness, which is idolatry.” Determined not to fall into this kind of idolatry, he gave away all his property, and lived from day to day by the simple hospitality of those among whom he labored. In the opium relief work he often saw hard times, but his trust was in the God who fed Elijah by the ravens. At one time, says Mrs. Taylor, the old man had come to the end of his resources:—

Quite near by, in the large temple of the village, lived a cousin who was priest-in-charge, and who, when he came to see his relative from time to time, would bring a little present of bread or millet from his ample store. The old man, on receiving these gifts, would always say, “T’ien-Fu-tih-en-tien!” (My Heavenly Father’s grace!) meaning that it was through the care and kindness of God that these gifts were brought. But the priest did not approve of that way of looking at it, and at last remonstrated.

“Where does your Heavenly Father’s grace come in, I should like to know. The millet is mine. I bring it to you. And if I did not, you would very soon starve for all that he would care! He has nothing at all to do with it!”

“But it is my Heavenly Father who puts it into your heart to care for me,” replied old Li.

“O, that is all very well!” interrupted the priest. “We shall see what will happen if I bring the millet no more.” And for a week or two he kept away, although his better nature prompted him to care for the old man, whom he could not but esteem for the works of mercy in which he was constantly engaged.

As it happened, this was just the time in which dear old Li was especially short of supplies. At last there came a day when he had nothing left for another meal. The refuge was still empty, and he had not a cash to buy a morsel of bread. Kneeling alone in his room, he poured out his heart in prayer to God. He knew very well that the Father in heaven would not, could not, forget him; and after pleading for blessing on his work and upon the people all around him, he reminded the Lord of what the priest had said, asking that, for the honor of his own great name, he would send him that day his daily bread.

Then and there the answer came. While the old man was still kneeling in prayer, he heard an unusual clamor and cawing and flapping of wings in the courtyard outside, and a noise as of something falling to the ground. He rose, and went to the door to see what was happening. A number of ravens, which are common in that part of China, were flying all about, in great commotion above him, and, as he looked up, a large piece of meat fell at his very feet. One of the birds, chased by others, had dropped it just at that moment on that spot. [In the Orient one is accustomed to the sight of flocks of great crows hovering over the market-place, watching the chance to seize a piece of meat from a butcher’s stall.]

Thankfully the old man took up the unexpected portion, saying, “My Heavenly Father’s kindness!” and then, glancing about him to see what had fallen before he came out, he discovered a large piece of Indian-meal bread, all cooked and ready for eating. Another bird had dropped that also, and there was his dinner bountifully provided. Evidently the ravens had been on a foraging expedition, and, overtaken by stronger birds, had let go their booty. But whose hand had guided them to relinquish their prize right above his little courtyard?

With a wondering heart, overflowing with joy, the dear old man kindled a fire to prepare the welcome meal; and while the pot was still boiling, the door opened, and, to his great delight, his cousin, the priest, walked in.

“Look and see,” responded the old man, smiling, as he indicated the simmering vessel on the fire.

For some time the priest would not lift the lid, feeling sure there was nothing boiling there but water; but at length the savory odor was unmistakable, and, overcome by curiosity, he peeped into the earthen pot. What was his astonishment when the excellent dinner was revealed!

“Why,” he cried, “where did you get this?”

“My Heavenly Father sent it,” responded the old man, gladly. “He put it into your heart, you know, to bring me a little millet from time to time; but when you would do so no longer, it was quite easy for him to find another messenger.” And the whole incident, his prayer, and the coming of the ravens, was graphically told.

The priest was so much impressed by what he saw and heard that he became from that time an earnest inquirer, and before long confessed his faith in Christ by baptism. He gave up his comfortable living in the temple for the blessed reality that now satisfied his soul. He supported himself as a teacher, became a much-respected deacon in the church; and during the Boxer troubles of 1900 endured terrible tortures, and finally laid down his life for Jesus’ sake.

The story was told by Mrs. Taylor at an annual meeting of the China Inland Mission, and reported in China’s Millions, the organ of that society.

W. A. S.