MY FIRST LESSON IN MISSION WORK.
By S. H. B.
Stepping under the friendly cover of an open door to avoid the sudden shower, whose big drops were falling remorselessly upon my new hat and ribbons, I glanced around to learn the nature of the shelter to which I had thus unceremoniously invited myself. At my left was a sash door, revealing to me a gentleman sitting at a desk, upon whose face I saw the shadow of a smile, as though amused at my dilemma. He came forward, bowing politely, and offered me a seat in his office until the shower should pass over. Handing me the daily paper, he at once resumed his writing, while I, after indulging a curious glance or two at the office and its occupant, sent my thoughts over the work which had thus been summarily interrupted. It was in the early days of Home Mission enterprise. The business was new to me, and I had started out fresh and hopeful, with quite an exaggerated idea of what I was to accomplish. The afternoon had brought me more than one disappointment, so that my enthusiasm had been dampened before my dress met with a similar fate. Producing my memorandum book, I jotted down the list of calls, the number of tracts distributed, and in some instances made a note of the manner in which I had been received, mentally adding after two of the victories, “Shall never call there again, as it’s no part of my business to be badgered after that fashion.” Spreading out my tracts and papers, I looked with dismay at the numbers left, and thought regretfully of the report I had hoped to make of my first day’s work. It really seemed strange that the sun had not shone its brightest on a mission of such vast importance. All things considered, I was more disheartened than I should have cared to own. As I gave a long sigh, I looked up to find a pair of eyes bent quizzically upon me. “Doing missionary work, are you?” I drew myself up, as I assented, and took on anew the dignity of my office. “Well, it’s work that is quite satisfactory, I suppose, yields lots of gratitude and a large percentage of self-glorification, no doubt?” “I have not found much gratitude as yet,” I said a little bitterly, while I chose to ignore the last of his remark. “Is that so? Then the world is, indeed, ungrateful; after such lofty self-sacrifice and heroic self-denial as one must bring to a task like yours, to be unappreciated! My dear young lady, allow me to express my heartfelt sympathy in yourself and the cause you represent.” As he said this, he leaned forward and offered me his hand. For a moment I thought of rushing out into the rain that was falling in torrents, but was hardly equal to the sacrifice it would involve. I felt angry enough to have struck the face that was bending toward me with such a mock sympathetic look. There came a sudden, swift gleam of lightning across the desk, and I wondered if the Lord was not about to defend me, remembering with a glow of satisfaction the fate which met the scoffers of Elijah. “So you refuse my sympathy! Think I am not in earnest perhaps? Your trials have made you suspicious, evidently. Why, so fully do I comprehend the situation, that I could give you a tolerably correct outline of the day.” He came down from his high seat and took a chair in front of me. “Let me see,” he began, “this was a nice afternoon for shopping, and no doubt you would have liked a walk down street, and an opportunity to have matched some trimming or selected a new dress, but then you had this missionary business on your hands, and you wished to prove your efficiency for the work by accomplishing your part as speedily as possible; so the spirit triumphed over the flesh, and you ‘took up your cross’—that’s the phrase, isn’t it? It was some consolation to don your new hat, and by one little device and another make yourself as charming as you could. It somehow served to mark more clearly the immense distance between you and the people you were to visit. If you had any fancy concerning the impression you would make upon their benighted minds, it was soon dispelled by the way they received you. Of course you found some so fallen and degraded that they would rather have had a bag of flour or a bushel of potatoes than your entire bundle of tracts and papers; and such might have been their depravity that if you told them of your beautiful self-sacrifice, in the most pathetic words you could command, they might have derided you; for the creatures in Bear and Blank Streets are slow to appreciate any gift which they can neither eat nor wear.” My face was growing scarlet, and I could not help interrupting him with, “How did you know I had been on those streets, and really how came you to know anything about me?” “I was looking out of the window watching the stampede before the shower, and I saw you come from Blank Street;” then with a quiet smile into my face, “and the rest was easily guessed by watching you a few moments.” I was puzzled and provoked, but managed to say with some show of moderation, “Oh, we expect to have our work spoken lightly of—ridicule is the world’s weapon, I’ve been told.” The rain still fell pitilessly, and the lightning gleamed and glared across the narrow window till it seemed like one continuous flash. I shrank back into a recess of the little room, to hide from the lurid light which thoroughly frightened me. Hearing the door open and close, I began to fear that I was left alone, for disagreeable as the companionship seemed it was better than solitude during such a fearful tempest. “Mr. Read,” said a new voice, “will you give something to help that O’Connell family? Jake is off on a spree, and they98are really in distress. One of the children is sick, and the rest are in need of food and clothes.” “I told Jake when he quit here that I was done with him, and I washed my hands of the whole family. They are a miserable set altogether.” “Well, but we can’t leave them to starve, you know. Jake has been all discouraged since you discharged him, and I am afraid he never will do another day’s work, unless you take him back. He’s worked here so long he dreads going to a new place.” “It’s no use talking, Paul, I gave him a fair trial, and he understood what would follow if he drank again. Now he must take the consequences. I will not have such a man in my employ, neither will I pay a premium on his misconduct by relieving him of the care of his family.” There came a pause, and I moved a little, so that I could look upon the two. The one called Paul stood with his hat off, his face, hands, and clothes bearing unmistakable marks of the nature of his employment. Mr. Read had turned away to his books, as if he considered the conversation closed. Paul had a wistful look as he twirled his hat nervously. “Why do you wait longer? have you anything else to speak about?” “But what?” said the other impatiently. “I do not like to leave Jake’s cause just so, sir. I was sure you would try him again, and it seems so important you should.” “Sure, were you? Have I been so fickle since you’ve known me that you had reason to think I should change at a word?” “No, sir, but I had reason to hope this time.” “Reason? will you be good enough to explain? Don’t you know I said when Jake left that I’d see him and all of his family sunk before I would be bothered with them any more.” “I know it,” said Paul, as his rather boyish face flushed for a moment, then grew strong with something beyond mere human courage, “but I asked the Lord to soften your heart and show you your duty, and I believed he would.” The astonishment on the face of his employer would have amused me greatly, if I had not felt such an intense interest in the conversation. “That was the game, was it? Well, you were slightly taken in that time it seems. Not a bad lesson for you, however; you will not be so ready to believe next time, I reckon.” “Oh, yes, I shall, sir! The Lord never lets me find myself disappointed. He may have some other way to answer my prayer, a better way likely enough.” “What could be better, unless you are going to have Jake and his baker’s dozen translated? I would take a strong team, for their filth would weigh down heavily, to say nothing of whisky and gin.” “It would be better if Jake would reform entirely, for then he would have no trouble in obtaining work, for he is quick and ready enough when he’s sober.” “And how about my share, my ‘heart being softened,’ doing my duty, and all that rigmarole?” “Oh, you would have one less chance to do good in the world, and there would be forever that blank against your name. I will go now, Mr. Read. Excuse me for having troubled you!” “Well, Paul, the next time you have me on your mind in your prayers, just ask to have my head softened instead of my heart, and then I may go back upon my word, because I am requested to do so; or shall you give me up altogether?” Paul’s face shone. “No, sir! I have promised to pray for you every day until you are converted, and I shall not go back upon that.” He went slowly out, and closed the door in a hesitating, reluctant manner. Mr. Read called after him, “Paul, come back a minute!” “Paul, I’ll do all you ask for Jake and his family, if you’ll sit down and tell me your experience.” It was Paul’s turn to be astonished now. Experience, sir? Why, I don’t think I have any to tell!” “Oh, come now, Paul, that isn’t fair. You know your sort of folks always have on hand what they term ‘their experience,’ that they can rattle off at a moment’s notice, and I would give more to hear yours than a hundred others. I’ve been watching you, Paul, and I’m interested in you; besides, this row about praying for me has excited my curiosity.” Paul looked distressed. “Thank you for being interested in me, but it doesn’t seem to me I’ve anything to tell about myself—but if you’d let me tell of some one else—” “No, no, there are not many people I believe in, but I do in you, Paul. Moreover, if you will not speak of yourself, you may go, for I’ll not hear a word about any of your friends.” “But this is your Friend, too, Mr. Read, and a few words from his experience means so much, more than anything of mine. ‘He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.’” Paul spoke rapidly, but it was with earnestness, all nervousness having vanished from his manner. “Paul, if you thought you could do actual good by answering a few questions, would you do so, even if they were about yourself?” “Oh, yes, sir, as many as you could ask.” “When you came here, Paul, you were a strange kind of youth, and doubtless you remember you became the butt of the whole establishment. Hard-hearted as I am, I used to pity you sometimes. To-day, instead of standing at the foot, you are at the head, as far as influence goes. Now, what has brought it about? how have you managed it?” “I don’t know what to tell you, sir, and,” with a comical look of perplexity, “I don’t think I’ve managed it at all.” “Look here! you go to some sort of a gathering, don’t you, called a ‘class-meeting?’ Now suppose you were asked to give an account of yourself for the last five years, in the fewest possible words, what would you say?” Paul’s look was clear and steady. “I should say, the first year I tried to serve myself, and I found it hard work; then I took a new Master, and when I’ve obeyed his orders I’ve found it all easy enough.” “Pretty well, Paul, if they could understand you, but you will have to talk more plainly to reach me.” Paul stepped nearer the desk. “I see, sir, your not knowing the Master makes the difference. When I came here first, I was sore and tired because I could not do something else, more to my liking; but I had others to care for, and there was need of every cent I could earn. Well, they didn’t feel much for me, and that made it harder to bear. Then I found the boys here rough and coarse, and I thought my life was just thrown away, if I had got to spend it in such a place. You see I was thinking of myself all the time. I thought I was so much better than the rest in the shop that I never lost any opportunity of trying to show it to others. Small wonder to me now that they disliked me, or, as you say, made me ‘the butt.’ At home they found me just as disagreeable, and yet, sir, if you’ll believe me, I was trying all that time to be a Christian! In the other part of the house where we lived there was an old lady who was blind and bed-ridden. Her room was next to ours, and I doubt not she heard much of our conversation. Well, she sent for me one evening to come and see her, and I went, thinking she had some service to ask of me. In my over-confident way, I said, ‘Well, Mrs. Ray, what can I do for you?’ She held out her thin hand. ‘Come here, Mr. Paul, where I can touch you. Do you know I’ve lain here for twenty years helpless, and I’ll venture you would say, useless? But let me tell you that no one is useless who is content to remain where the Master places him, and to perform the work he gives him to do, let it be ever so little in his own eyes.’ Then she told me some of her life, and, somehow, I was so moved that I knelt down beside her and took her other hand in mine. “That night I had a fierce battle to fight, and Satan stood by me as though he had a great love for me. He held up what I had done for others, the sacrifice I had made for my poor mother and younger brothers, and showed me the honor I deserved for keeping myself from the vices of youth, and from abstaining from the language indulged in at the shop, and made myself out quite a saint, I can tell you. Then I wondered why I had not been given a better chance to display my talents, and all the old repining came back with redoubled force. Just there I got a glimpse of Christ. My self-righteousness tumbled down at once, and somehow, Satan fled, and I turned sick at the sorry spectacle I made with what I had thought my wonderful goodness lying around me in the mud and mire of selfishness and pride. I was glad to get away from it, you may be sure, on the easy terms offered me, and the next day I started out in the service of my new Master. The work at the shop had grown nobler, and my shopmates no longer seemed beneath me. I lost sight of my self-sacrifice, and found so much beauty and happiness in my life that I whistled and sang from morning till night.” “Then you went to work on the men, didn’t you, Paul?” “No, sir! I’d been doing that before. I had reproved them for their words whenever I could get a chance, told them how I had always looked at such things, and,” giving a slight laugh, “made myself a bore generally. I don’t think I can tell you how things changed here; all went well enough when the Jonas was cast out. I only know that when I left off parading my own goodness, I found a way to speak for my Master without giving offense. I began to love them because he did, and there’s generally a chance to reach those you love.” “I see,” said Mr. Read, “but how came you to trouble yourself about Jake’s family? They are a mean, ungrateful set. Why, I know of a lady who called there, and was almost driven out by the woman’s insolence. What have you to say to that?” “She told me but a few minutes ago that some one had called with tracts and papers, and had offered to report their needs at the next monthly meeting. ‘But,’ said the poor creature, ‘I was that wretched I could not bide her fine manners, and I threw her ’aves after her, with words I’d no call p’raps to a-spoken. What did she know of misery like ours? Wait for a month to be helped? Yes, she’ll be in time for our shrouds, may be, not much besides I’m thinking. Sinners, she called us, an’ small chance have we had to be saints.’ Poor woman, she is half-crazed between her worry about Jake and her sick child, and the crying of the others for food. I think if Christ had been there, he would first have rebuked the person whose words were so untimely, and which, under the circumstances, seemed only another kind of insolence.” “Oh, come, come, Paul, you are getting uncharitable,” and he sent an uneasy glance to my hiding-place. “No doubt those interested in the mission work act from the best of motives, and believe they are doing the Lord’s work.” Paul had not turned his eyes beyond the desk. “They accomplish a great deal of good, Mr. Read. It’s only when they become self-seekers that they make such woeful mistakes. James had that kind of person in mind when he wrote of the uselessness of saying, ‘Be ye warmed and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the body.’ I think if one’s heart is in the work, and it is undertaken from real love to the Master, they will be given some measure of tact, and will never hurl the epithet of ‘sinner’ at a poor creature, without showing at the same time the eternal remedy, Jesus, the world’s Saviour and Redeemer.” “Let’s go back to business,” said Mr. Read, evidently shrinking from Paul’s earnestness, and possibly waking up to the apparent unpleasantness of my situation. “You can get Jake sober and set him to work as soon as you please; and now what is it you want me to do for the others?” “If you will give me five dollars, the boys and I will manage the rest, and thank you, too, for the talk. I hope I haven’t been tedious.” The money given, the shapely, white hand was frankly extended, and grasped heartily by the stout, labor-stained ones of the younger man. For a moment, at least, of their lives they stood on common ground. Looking into each other’s faces, one only said, “Almost thou persuaded me to be a Christian,” and the other replied, “If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ, the righteous. He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world.” Another hand-shake, and Mr. Read stood alone at the desk. He had dropped the curtain when the lightning startled me, and now, stepping to the window, he raised it again. The storm was over, and the distant hills were mantled in crimson and gold by the sunset-tinted clouds. “Look,” said he, turning toward me, “the time of your imprisonment is over. Has your penance been too heavy for you?” “On the contrary, I have found it good to be here. I was sadly in need of just the lesson I have received.” My self-command, at its utmost, was not sufficient to keep back the tears of genuine humility which welled up from my heart. “There, there, I thought to show you the mote in your eye, and lo, I have found a beam in my own! Don’t cry or you’ll not be able to take in the full beauty of this splendid sunset; and see, there’s a rainbow, gorgeous beyond description.” Looking up to it, my heart seemed strangely lightened. All the way home it served to bring God nearer to me, and when I said sorrowfully to myself, “I can never go out on this work again, now that I see my unfitness,” it suggested the strong, helpful words that have been such a mine of comfort to other hearts, and that will hold good for all time: “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.” Looking back to that day, long years ago, I recall what seems now to have been my first lesson in mission work. Surely no one but God would have thought of sending me to an establishment to receive it.—S. H. B., in Zion’s Herald.