For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake;
—Phil. 1:29
6150 One Day I Dream
One day as I was fast asleep
I had this stirring dream;
I was caught up to be with God.
With angels it did seem.
And while up there, I met God’s saints
From many parts of the earth.
Now some were great and famous men,
And some of humble birth.
I talked to one great saint of God,
The first one I had met.
He told me how he died for Christ.
His words I can’t forget.
He lived, he said, in Bible days
And died at Nero’s stake.
“It was a joy to give my all
And burn for Jesus’ sake.”
“I was so glad to die for Christ,”
With humble words he said.
But as I listened to it all.
I bowed my guilty head.
Another man then gently spoke,
“Here is my story, friend.
’Twas cannibals that took my life,
Because I would not bend.
“I tried to tell those heathen souls
Of Christ who came to die.
They ate my flesh and drank my blood
But sent my soul on high.
“Of course up here are millions more
With stories rare and true.
But friend, before I tell you more,
Let’s hear your story too.”
I am ashamed of how I’ve failed,
I’ve known no sacrifice.
I am ashamed of how I’ve failed,
I’ve paid such little price.
I’ve never even given funds
To send the Gospel out,
I’ve lived a life of luxury
And never done without.
Those costly cars, those extra clothes
Seem needless now, and vain;
The very thought of how I’ve lived
Now fills my heart with pain.
Just then it seemed that Jesus said,
“Take up my cross today;
I’ll give to you another chance
To work and give and pray.”
My guilty heart began to burn,
My nervous body shake.
Then I awoke with tear-filled eyes
With new resolves to make.
I told the Lord from that day forth
My best, my all I’d give
To win the lost in every place,
For this alone I’d live.
I told the Lord that from then on
I would not waste a dime;
That I would give myself to prayer
And really use my time.
That I would seek with all my heart
That power from above
To help me tell a heathen world
Of Jesus’ grace and love.
—Pilgrim Gospel Messenger
6151 The Child Apostle
When the late Bishop of Madras was visiting Travancore, there was introduced to him a little slave girl called “The Child Apostle.” She had won this title by the zeal with which she talked of Christ to others. Her quiet, steady persistence in this had won several converts to Christ. But she had suffered persecution too brutal to relate. When she was introduced to the Bishop, her face, neck and arms were disfigured and scarred by stripes and blows. As he looked at her, the good man’s eyes filled, and he said, “My child, how could you bear this?”
She looked up at him in surprise and said, “Don’t you like to suffer for Christ, sir?”
—Choice Gleanings
6152 Fearing His Scars
Adoniram Judson, the renowned missionary to Burma, endured untold hardships trying to reach the lost for Christ. For 7 heartbreaking years he suffered hunger and privation. During this time he was thrown into Ava Prison, and for 17 months was subjected to almost incredible mistreatment. As a result, for the rest of his life he carried the ugly marks made by the chains and iron shackles which had cruelly bound him.
Undaunted, upon his release he asked for permission to enter another province where he might resume preaching the Gospel. The godless ruler indignantly denied his request, saying, “My people are not fools enough to listen to anything a missionary might SAY, but I fear they might be impressed by your SCARS and turn to your religion!”
—Henry G. Bosch
6153 Epigram On Suffering
• It is easier to suffer in silence if you are sure someone is watching.
—Warren
See also: Martyrdom ; Persecution ; Sorrow ; Troubles ; Rom. 8:17, 18; I Pet. 4:16, 19.