Is Giving His All by S. M. Konigmacher

Pacific Press Publishing Association

FromSigns of the Times, Harvest Ingathering Number

Is Giving His All

By S. M. Konigmacher

S. M. KONIGMACHER

ONE day, while touring among the villages, teaching the gospel, I approached one village as a shower came on. I took refuge in the boys' hut.

When I entered, a little boy was playing a tune by beating a stick with other sticks. Soon other children entered, and one boy recognized me, and began to sing a little song I had sung when I was there before. I sang with him, and you ought to have seen him smile.

When I told him that if he would call the other children, I would show them some pictures of Jesus, he called, and they came. All this time, the rain came pitter-patter down on the outside.

At first, it was hard to get the girls to come into the hut; but soon their desire to see overcame their fear, and they all came in, and we had a little meeting there in that dirty hut. When the rain ceased, they ran after my bicycle for a long way.

The next village was large, and all the men were busy building a calf pen. When I told them I had come to have worship, they stopped their work, and came and joined in the song and the service.

From here we went on to another large village. The people were busy making a roof for a new hut. That night, I held a lantern service, and many came, though the sky was threatening. A strange thing happened. One of the boys dropped a box of slides. When I heard them fall, I said, "There will be nothing left but pieces"; but not one was broken.

H. M. SPARROW AFRICAN NATIVES STABBING THE SPIRITS, AS DESCRIBED BY MRS. ANDERSON

The following day, we went on to Marenga. The boys were glad to see me. They were plowing, for they had had a little rain. The teacher told me that the people in the villages had asked him when I was coming again. It was a great comfort to me to think that the people were wanting to see me; and when I went to the schools, they showed that they were interested, by the numbers that came.

At one school, the hippo flies were so bad, and bit so fiercely, that we could scarcely hold a service.

I held four services in villages I had never entered before. At one, over fifty attended; and at another, over one hundred. One of the boys brought me a stool to sit on — a great change from the first visit.

I went in to see the old chief, and found him in a little hut not far away. His eyes are dim, and he has not long for this world. But he could make out a few pictures of Jesus, and we had prayer together in the hut.

You all remember the words, that this field of black people is "white for the harvest." There is no need for me to finish the quotation. I am giving my all. How about you?

Northwest Rhodesia.