Jenny — a nobody
_— zs
JENNY — A NOBODY
"FOR VERILY, BY LOVING myself amiss, I lost myself, and by seeking and sincerely loving Thee alone I found myself and Thee, and then through love have brought myself to yet deeper nothingness' (Thomas a Kempis).
Jenny is not her real name. I call her this because of a quaintly funny 'family anecdote' which is too interesting to miss.
Jenny is tenth ofa big Scotch family of fourteen, and by the time she arrived babies had ceased to be thrilling or perhaps very much desired. At any rate they were not spoiled with petting, but on the contrary thought their own little thoughts, dreamed their own little dreams, and planned their own little plans more or less unnoticed.
Our little friend was born with clever fingers; no matter what the work is, from kneading bread to writing intricate Chinese characters, she excels over most of the common herd. When she was just a little girl at school, one afternoon the teacher was giving a drawing lesson and gave the unusual order: 'Draw from your imagination!' Jenny was
Jenny — A Nobody
in her element and the small careful fingers set to work eagerly; in what seemed but a little time she was startled to hear her teacher's voice over her shoulder say, 'Why child! You are a genius!'
Thrilled through and through, for she was not accustomed to being picked out of the crowd like that and praised, the little one flew home to share her good news. With pink cheeks of joy and excitement she told the wonderful news in the bosom of that large family.
'Ho! Ho! Ho!' laughed a big brother, seeing a grand chance to show off that mother wit which rarely received its due attention in this big crowd.
'Called you a genius, did she? Say, what's wrong with your ears, young one? You a genius! Go on, she said you were a jenny-ass!' and tickled to pieces with his remarkable pun he never saw the light go out of the small face, nor knew that a lovely dream castle had tumbled down into brown earth at his rough touch.
Just a jenny-ass! Why of course, that must have been what teacher said; how foolish to dream that she might ever do anything rather better than her fellows? The sensitive little thing fell back out of sight, and the older ones chattered on, not conscious that a child's heart had been wounded, and that the joke of that evening was going to leave a scar for many years to come.
All through the years of growth into womanhood, the thrill of that genius-dream which in the careless hands of the uncomprehending had crumbled into grey dust, was never forgotten, and an echo of that child's disappointment rang dimly
Second-Mile People in my ears on receiving a letter from her the other day. I had feared that a certain alluring temptation might assail her, but her reaction showed the bitterness of the past had become the safeguard of the future. No need to fear, she wrote, that temptation was for the well-educated, for those who might actually expect the limelight. And then she added these words, 'and what am I? A nobody.'
So this little nobody ofa big Scotch family early set herself not to look to others for help or encouragement, but to do her own planning and pushing. Knowing that her talent lay in her fingers she apprenticed herself to learn dressmaking, and soon became proficient.
I believe it was at the age of eighteen that she heard the gospel preached in a special 'mission' held in her home town, and something in it drew her to the front in acceptance of this dear Saviour.
But there was no one to lead Jenny on into deeper things, and so for years she remained unchanged outwardly, though always with a heart loyalty that clung to the Saviour she had received that night. Then there came a time when she became strangely disturbed.
'Whensoever a man desireth aught above measure, immediately he becometh restless', said the wise old monk. A desire above measure had seized
Jenny, and not knowing it was His call in her heart, she thought (like most of the rest of us have in our turn) that it was something the world would satisfy if only she could find it. Not realizing it in Scotland, the 'restlessness' urged her to try the new land, and having sisters in Canada, to Cana-
Jenny — A Nobody
da she planned to come. Thus with nothing to trust to but that heart-hidden Saviour and her own clever fingers, she arrived at the front door of an older married sister. That family soon found they had opened their doors to no mean asset, and so perhaps they were sorry to lose her when that inner restlessness again pushed Jenny on. Out on the Pacific coast, near Port City, was another almost unknown, older sister. Realizing by this time that she carried her fortune literally in her hands, it did not require so much courage to make this second move. Again in a short time she had proved her weight in gold to this struggling little family. Generous with her wages, tireless in her loving unselfish help in the home, quietly 'seeing' things to be done and as quietly doing them, Jenny was soon a very welcome member of the household.
Who that has lived there, but knows the thrall of Canada's Great North West? Was it this Jenny thought would meet that inward desire-withoutmeasure, that under-the-surface day and night calling? Gradually she was beginning to realize that mere things, mere circumstances, even friendships could not satisfy it.
And just as gradually a light was breaking upon her, a light that steadily focussed its rays on the One she had taken into her heart that night in Scotland, but who had been held under the surface, never been allowed to enlarge the place of His feet, simply because she did not know how to let Him, did not even know it was possible for Him to be more to her.
Second-Mile People 'For still the desert lies My thirsting soul before; O living waters, rise Within me evermore.'
She was working now in an exclusive dressmaking shop in Port City, the kind of place where only the Rich think of entering. Also in Port City there is a struggling little Bible School, and somehow
Jenny learned about it. My friend 'Margaret' lives in the flats over the School and is one of its graduates. One day into the office where Margaret was working walked a little figure (Jenny never grew tall). Margaret looked up and saw a stylish young lady with blue, blue eyes looking at her. The carefully marcelled bob, the dainty clothes exactly fitting the small form, all spelled
WORLDLY and Margaret thought this was some stranger who had got into the wrong house in this residential district. She was about to inform her cautiously of the mistake when the blue-eyed apparition opened its mouth and asked in Scotch accents if this were the Port City Bible School?
In amazement Margaret said 'Yes'.
The Apparition then said, 'Can anyone attend?'
'Anyone who is a Christian,' said Margaret, eyeing the curls and carefully powdered complexion.
'Could a student live here in the building?' was the next breath-taker.
'Why yes,' gasped Margaret, trying to believe her ears rather than her eyes. 'Not many do but there are rooms above. I live here because I am
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employed in Christian work with which the Institute sympathizes, and I help in the office here occasionally.'
'When could I move in, and begin?' and this Paradox stood there simply, as if it were the most expected question in the world.
It was some months later that in faraway China I received a letter from Margaret. It was a usual home letter but one paragraph stuck in the memory. "There's a wonderful little Scotch girl named
... (Jenny) rooming here next to me. She is the pluckiest little thing, earning her way through Institute and a real girl of prayer. I do wish you knew her, you'd love her. It's simply grand having her here.'
Do meteors, before they appear in our world's hemisphere, send their radiance on ahead? I do not know, but I do know that Second Mile people have that kind of unconscious power. Something inside me sprang up and loved that 'little Scotch girl working her way through' — perhaps because of the memory of a similar one I had known at Moody, who is still one of life's treasures.
I knew well the circle in which Jenny was now moving, and occasionally others mentioned her in letters, always with love and admiration. The value of praise depends much on who is giving it, and I knew that commendation from these people spoke uncommon worth. But of her plans for the future I heard nothing; as a matter of fact none of those most intimate with her were told that for a year before her graduation she had said 'Yes' to the Lord's call in her heart for China. Jenny's
SecondMile People acceptance of her Master's will is usually so matter-of-fact and simple. It is a case of:
'The Master said, "Come follow .
. ."
That was all.
Earth's joys grew dim, My soul went after Him; I rose and followed — That was all.
Will you not follow if you hear His call?'
Jenny said nothing to anyone because she knew she must apply to the China Inland Mission
Council and be 'passed' before she could sail — and perhaps they would not want a 'nobody'. So why say anything until one knew? . .
. thus spoke the Scottish in her.
After her graduation I heard that she had gone with Margaret on a tour of the latter's work, and I quite took it for granted she would find her place with Margaret, who loves her dearly.
Every winter there comes a gala event to our far west ... the pictures and testimonies of New
Workers from England and America. Very eagerly are the faces scanned and the write-ups read, because in the spring when designations take place we invariably receive one or more from the Language Training Homes. These pioneer districts simply swallow up new workers and gape for more; during those years when it was our privilege to receive a few of the Two Hundred into our home at Old Centre and help them a bit with the initial
'dive' into Chinese life, it was always thrilling to look over these young faces and make an imaginary choice!
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That autumn, as I was eagerly glancing through China's Millions one face sprang from the page and challenged my attention. It was a pair of steady young eyes which seemed to have something to say. Just what they said puzzled and so held one's interest; loyalty, courage, goodness were all there, but it was something else, something of promise and of steadfastness, and faintly hanging around was a kind of fragrance of sacrifice. .
. yes, that was it. They affirmed a forsaking of all, then.a taking up of the cross with a determination to follow the Lamb withersoever He led; there was an expectation of suffering in those eyes and an unflinching readiness to meet it. They said, in effect, 'Let us not so stain our honour, as to fly from the Cross,' and this was the promise those earnest young-eyes held. I loved their owner on the spot, and glanced beneath to learn her name, then called out with surprise, "Why it is Margaret's little Scotch girl!' It was Jenny.
But the Lord had an even sweeter surprise in store; next spring she was designated to our province, and a few months later Bachelor appointed her to be with us!
* * * I well remember our meeting. One of our 'boys' was the escort who brought both Jenny and a little girl from Moody who was to be stationed two days north. The setting was one of the loveliest imaginable. Old Centre is a famous city on a long fertile plain; the turquoise waters called from their shape
Second-Mile People 'the Lake of the Ear' stretch out in opalescent beauty to the east, and closing it in on the west are magnificent mountains crinkled into huge ravines and hollows as if some fairy giant had attempted to 'marcel' them. We walked out over the stoneflagged path which slipped between emerald rice fields, until we came to where a large and famous temple spreads itself across the road and calls the traveller to a halt and rest. There we waited, and soon the three figures appeared over a little rise in the path and a call of joy and welcome brought
Jenny and Little Moodyite racing forward to see who would reach me first.
My first 'inside' comment was 'My, how blue her eyes are!' and then after hearing her laugh merrily I noted, 'She may be solemn earnestness at the centre, but the surface knows how to ripple into fun! Good. She'll make a dandy missionary sure enough.'
There was no stiffness in the merry party that wended its way back to supper. Jenny and I had long ago heard of each other and came from the same circle of friends; Little Moodyite had the latest news of the beloved old school to tell us, and 'our boy' had just got himself engaged so he was obvious prey for everybody's fun! But such delightful gatherings may not be prolonged in the more important duties of missionary life, so a few days later the group broke up and Peter (who is a girl despite what you are thinking) claimed Little
Moodyite as her own and marched off with her to their station.
There was a change for us too, for we had been
Jenny — A Nobody
given that one desire of pioneer hearts, permission to 'open up' a city for Christ. John had already been there while escorting two of our boys towards the town which they in their turn were to enter for Christ. On his way home he had stopped off and managed to rent a ramshackle Chinese house in "Old Street' city. He warned Jenny and me that it
"wasn't verv nice; if I had been willing to wait fora month or so, and then make another trip there, I might have been able to get a better house— and I might not have been able to get any whatever!'
John had often been committed the task of renting the houses which our young workers were to occupy in their pioneer fields, and our experiences in getting into new cities was that after a house was found and the lease just about signed, the landlord would suddenly back out, appalled by the furor his renting to a foreigner had aroused. It was best to have all tightly witnessed and signed before one left the owner to the lashing tongues of his relatives and neighbours.
Jenny and I laughed at John's worried look.
Had there not been definite prayer that he would get a house on that trip? And who wanted to delay several months in order — possibly — to have a nicer home?
'Well then, there's another thing. I think you girls had better wait here while I go over there and get the carpenters and masons busy, and get things a little ship-shape. Then I'1] come back and get you and we will move as a family.'
Again there was a howl of derision which brought a grin to John's face, for after all it would
Second-Mile People be much nicer to have everyone along. So he shrugged his shoulders and said, 'Well, if you regret it, don't blame me! I advise you to wait here until the place is clean and ready for ladies.'
So on the appointed day we started to trek west.
Oh that start. Horsemen that promised to come at six am did not arrive until ten am, and then it was discovered that we had a load more than was calculated, so they had to send out of the city for another horse, so after a long forenoon of 'waiting to go', Jenny and I with Baby (for God had made
~ us three by that time, with a little daughter) started off, leaving John behind to 'wait for that horse'.
Travelling in inland China! Oh the petty trials of the flesh, the stiff-backed won't-be-hurried, won t-do-it-differently of the Chinese coolie or muleteer! And then when you do get going, how the sublime beauty of God's wonderful mountain country cools your heated spirit.
One memory of that trip which stands out is the scratch of a match at four-thirty, and Jenny lighting her candle for a 'quiet time' with her Lord before the day's clamour could sweep in and interfere.
Then came the afternoon when we finally reached the little heathen-locked plain and arrived at the entrance of Old Street itself. All the way down the main street John hurriedly reiterated the bad points of the house into my ear, so afraid I would be disappointed — and he always can tell, even though I try to cover it up!
Jenny — A Nobody
Just as the river came in view we turned over to the right, crossed the village commons and were in our future 'home'. It proved to be a small courtyard with three surrounding wings and a crumbling wall on the fourth side. In one wing smoke was pouring up to the roof from a big Chinese stove (the Chinese tenants had not yet moved out!), of the main wing one wall had collapsed in the middle like a small boy with a stomach ache and a rough log was bracing it up to keep it just standing. The third wing had no proper floor upstairs, and everywhere was soot and dirt and darkness. Chinese fear sunlight and fresh air, and as much as possible had been done to keep out these intrusive brighteners. One room was so dark you could not see anything when you poked your head in, but oh, the smell of mould and the feeling that small 'creatures' were in abundance!
Upstairs in the main wing was a little lighter by reason of wooden windows that could be opened, but everywhere soot and dust hung and lay thick.
The north wing was to be Jenny's but was only half floored; the east wing which was to be ours was then used as the family worship hall. Each evening, before the family moved out, the landlady would come up, light the incense and lamp, kneel on the grass mat, knock the wooden fish with her little hammer in order to arouse the gods, and mutter her prayers. How the taunting truth of Elijah's words would silently rise to our lips sometimes, as we watched her tireless knock-knocktap-tap. 'Cry aloud, for he is a god; either he is
go SecondMile People ; talking, or he is pursuing, or he is in a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth and must be waked!'
But we dare not do more than think it, because she was an earnest Buddhist and sarcasm would only have set up a permanent barrier against us and our Christ. For such, the only way is to love them persistently until the strangeness of Christian living awakens a hunger in their hearts and they come of themselves and ask, what is the difference? Then one may tell them, and add 'And this
Saviour does not need a noisy banging to draw His attention to us. Such is His love that He cannot forget us a moment of the day or night, and He has even said, 'Before they call, I will answer'.
When at last the Chinese did move out and carpenters and masons arrived, such a mess as we all lived in! As it was a pioneer place people were afraid to come as our servants, so although we did have some help we also did a lot of the cleaning ourselves. And always — so quietly we hardly were conscious of it— John's and my comfort was taken care of first.
I can see Jenny now, as one morning she appeared on our flat, head tied up ina white cloth, apron on and broom in her hand. By that time we had dug out the blocked-up windows and hacked a third one out of the mud wall, so we could see somewhat.
'What are you going to do with this?' and I eyed the broom suspiciously.
'Sweep down your roof)'
'But, Jenny, your own roof needs the same!
Let's go and do yours first!'
~ Jenny — A Nobody QI 'Mine can wait. The floor isn't finished anyway, and besides you're three and I'm only one. Mine can be done any old time, it doesn't matter.' That was always it; Jenny's comfort 'didn't matter'.
. and in spite of expostulations somehow she got her way.
¥ So I hunted up a cloth to tie over my own hair, and together we stood and looked up at that roof!
_ It had no ceiling so we were gazing at the under part of the mud tiles themselves, and they were black with the soot of years (incense burning every day and doubtless other fires) and moreover were festooned with long streamers of dust like rustyblack moss, spider webs and moth cocoons adding some variety; on the whole I suppose it was rather picturesque!
'lve got it,' said Jenny, 'I?ll just mount on that high incense table they've left there and then I can reach that side of the rafters. Here goes!' and in a second she had climbed on to a low cupboard and from there was just about to ascend to the table when the humour of her position caught her, and with a roguish grin she posed there a second — one foot on the table and the other on the cupboard, the broom flourished in her right hand.
'Pride goeth before .
. .. she began chuckling, but go no further when bang! boom! crash! I felt the whole house shake, things fell on and around me like rain. Remembering the ricketyness of the old place I concluded that at the least the roof had collapsed, and covering my face with my hands I stood waiting to see ifany particular tile was going to escort me into eternity. However, as all was
a SecondMile People quiet after a moment I ventured to open my eyes; there in the middle of the floor, in the midst of dirt and debris, sat a small figure with a face as sooty as a chimney sweep's and two blue blue eyes of astounded amazement looking out and up at me from their black circumference. Then the next moment, the roof (it was still there!) rang with shrieks of laughter.
By this time John, having heard the crash, was upstairs in a bound, but seeing the blue-eyed
'chimney sweep' in the middle of the floor and realizing that no one was hurt he too leaned against the wall and roared. Unknown to us, the long heavy incense table had been resting one foot on a rough stone; Jenny's spring had caused it to topple over, carrying not only her, but the small cupboard too, and the heaviness of the crash in that shaky dwelling had 'swept the roof for us truly, in showers of soot and chunks of mud. When finally we could control ourselves the sootbesmeared 'chimney sweep' assured us she was uninjured, but as her garments were torn it was necessary for her to go and change — so she departed chuckling all the way down the stairs.
Thus with a willing merry heart she stuck by and helped us all through those busy trying weeks.
Finally whitewashed walls, plaster, a mended roof and straightened walls began to reward our labours. We were just at the point where we could start to do some real evangelistic work when a letter from Bachelor arrived. Another missionary had had a physical breakdown and must be escorted to the coast; as John and I had both been
Jenny — A Nobody
needing medical attention ourselves he thought it was wisest if we would be that escort. The question of course was, what to do with Jenny? It would be a most valuable experience to spend
_ several months alone among the Chinese but Bachelor said he would never think of asking such a difficult thing of a young lady; so he supposed the best arrangement would be for her to go and live with the nearest married couple until our return.
Sometimes I have seen, as it were, the Lord standing behind Jenny's shoulder, with one hand of love resting there, and with the other silently pointing to a 'second mile'. How solemn are the blue eyes as she broods thoughtfully out into space while talking with Him in her heart. There was no sign of struggle, but after a while she said, 'You may write and tell the Super that ['ll stay right on here alone. It will be a valuable experience, as he says, and it is not wise to leave this newly-opened field unmanned.'
Carefully we tried to explain to her what sucha decision would involve; no other foreigner within three days' journey, she as yet unable to speak the language, no Christian to help or sympathize with her (there was a cook, but her life did not commend her profession of Christianity), and we must be gone some time — it turned out to be four months. Jenny was quietly firm; 'It's better for me to stay,' was all she would say.
So we had to leave her, a little figure standing at a curve of the road with tombstones of a Chinese graveyard on either hand, and the sunny plain
Second-Mile People behind her. Was it symbolic — one small living figure among all those dead that lay so heavily, so stonily around her? Would that weight of heathenism crush her? Nearly two years later a Bethel
Band visited this place and said they had not met such 'stony' hearts since Shanghai! Old Street adds deep ignorance to its blind heathenism — few people can even read on that little plain.
Stones ... graves ... and one young heart with the Word of Life — who would win?
It was there I saw her again on our return. From one hill-top I looked across and on the opposite hill, seated on a tombstone, was a small girlish figure which got up and waved delightedly at my halloo. In another second we were both racing down to the bottom where a creek flows rippling over rocks; a leap across and I had her in my arms.
Not much would she ever say of those long four months alone, of the awful isolation, seeing human beings but not being able to converse with them, the monotony of the days, the dragging slowness of language study, the groups of Chinese visitors who examine everything with impudent freedom (or so it seems to us who have been brought up to respect personal privacy), the longing to tell them of the Saviour who is theirs for the taking, the blundering awkwardness of one's tongue and the hot humiliation when an earnest effort meets with ridicule. On the surface, the 'stones were still stones, but constant prayer from ar unswerving young heart had done much to looser some of them, as we found when we returned anc began to preach the word of their salvation.
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A casual remark dropped by someone long after, poured in a stream of light upon that four months and then I knew, though she would say so little to loving questions, that Jenny had indeed not 'offered unto the Lord that which cost her nothing'.
We had brought back with us two more young lady missionaries — a splendid gift of God to our great west. My father, hearing of the three living with us, laughingly nicknamed them 'Faith, Hope and Love' and asked them to choose which should be which; Jenny instantly chose Love — 'because,' she said, 'it abideth forever'. So with these three we passed a happy and somewhat eventful summer.
One evening in the autumn we gathered around the dinner table very gay and happy indeed, for two of our boys were out visiting us en route further west! Into that merry group a bolt fell, and again it was a letter from Bachelor.
'Seeing the important centre of Eternal Prosperity has had to be vacated,' read the superintendent's letter, 'it has been decided to ask
Misses Jenny and Hope to occupy it, and we advise that they move immediately.'
Now Jenny and Hope are both dears, but they are very different, born at opposite points of the temperamental compass in fact. They just naturally came to different conclusions about things;
Jenny believed, for instance, that the best way to
Second-Mile People | work was to go out alone among the people, and Hope with equal sincerity believed that it was most unwise for an unmarried foreign girl to live alone among heathen, that the Lord's own method had been to send His disciples two by two.
And with other questions little and large it was the same — how could two such different temperaments pull together?
In our Mission we are not forced to work with anyone we do not wish to work with, and the girls could have refused; but the Mission are most prayerful in making designations, and we were so glad that neither of them showed by word, glance or deed that there was anything but quiet acceptance of it as the will of God.
There is nothing in the ordinary life of the homelands which quite resembles this particular trial which can often face two young missionaries.
Picture two girls, neither as yet able to speak much Chinese so shut up to one another and unable to escape through the usual channel of ministering to the people. Language study can be a soul-sapping monotony. In a paradoxical way, work among the people is refreshing; true, there is almost always much fatigue, but the giving out of spiritual strength in one's preaching necessitates a corresponding intake from the Lord Himself, which refreshes the spirit no matter how tired the body is. But at the language study period the constant stuffing of the mind with sounds and 'characters' is a very real physical drain, and without an outlet the soul feels stale and barren. Confine together two young people in this condition, people who
oe ,
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did not choose each other as companions and would rather have avoided it — then leave them alone with no other congenial fellow being as a refuge to 'fight it out', and it is no mean battle!
Chances to walk 'the second mile' are of almost hourly occurrence until any romance attaching to such an idea is quite gone, and one becomes only conscious of a mad desire to 'break loose' and do as one wants to, say what one wants to!
A ridiculous cartoon exactly illustrates this situation.
"Stop following me!"
Notice the obviously vigorous temperament of Fish No. 1; how galling to be forever followed around by the inane smile of Fish No. 2! Fish No. 1 has 'broken loose' in impotent wrath, 'Stop following me!' But HOW impotent! Where else can
Second-Mile People Fish No. 2 go? It would be just as bad to proceed in the other direction, and always be running into Fish No. 1 ..
. much better to skulk along behind his indignant tail!
Under such circumstances one can imagine how little things, which at home would seem too puny for a Christian to notice, suddenly grow into importance. I remember once being left alone with a missionary who had fallen into lazy habits of speech, such as saying git for get, and gittin' for getting. This simple little thing, which would have been passed by with a smile at home, gradually became important, gradually became distinctly offensive. One took oneself to task for being fretted over such an insignificant matter, when there were so many noble qualities to admire in the speaker, but private scolding made no difference, something within resented it until one found oneself actually screwed up to meet git and gittin' at meal times when escape was impossible. A return of the family or an influx of visitors relaxed the strain until now it is even forgotten who the offender was ... but the way the molehill grew into a mountain remains a vivid memory.
* * * Anxiously we waited and prayed for Jenny and Hope. Would a 'breaking loose' moment come?
What would happen?
'Said the Captain gently, "The second mile's long, But I walk with you when you seek not your own."?
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Under the heat and pressure of this unexpected chosen Cross, whose 'own' would they seek?
Those who seek 'their' own invariably end up this way, 'You go your way and I go mine!' But Christ does not walk that road.
Months later the answer was revealed by a visitor to Jenny and Hope's station, who told us:
"Those girls meet every day for prayer together for the local church! They pray for every member they know, every day, no matter how long it takes them, and it usually takes over an hour.'
What joy that remark brought! For it showed them seeking His 'own'.
'I walk witk you when you seek not your own.'
That One was walking with them in the midst was soon evident. News drifted over of revival in a little body of. villagers out on their plain. Then after about a year, the Bethel Band paid a visitand no place in our West gave such response as this city, notorious for years as stony-hearted, materialistic and fruitless from the missionary standpoint!
Hope wrote to us joyfully, "You will have heard from Jenny of the times of blessing we are having here. It almost seems unreal, it is all so wonderful
...ifmany more people keep coming on Sundays we will have to get more benches.'
And later Jenny herself: 'Yes, I am glad and rejoice daily in the way God has blessed and is blessing "Eternal Prosperity". For the past year
Hope and I have had special prayer time after lunch daily .
.and our special request long before the Bethel Band came was for a work of the Holy
SecondMile People Spirit to be done among the educated people of the city, especially the teachers.' One of these schoolteachers, named S——, had been converted and was taking a remarkable stand for his Lord. Writing later of this particular man, Jenny said, "We heard of Teacher S—— attending a swell dinner and holding the audience while he gave his testimony. He told us of someone saying to him "I hear you have entered the Jesus religion .
. what's the matter.
.do you think you are going to die?" He replied, "I've been dead already 30 years!" and went on to explain how.' Later still: °. .
.a message came to Teacher S from the school authorities (who said it was also from the City Magistrate) to the effect that if he did not give up the Jesus religion and allow bills to be posted all over town to that effect they would bind him and lead him up and down the main street. He replied by letter, "You may bind me and lead me down the main street: you may make a cross and crucify me on it, but I will not give up Jesus." No more has been said — that was three or four days ago— and the other teachers have nothing to do with him.
His determinate stand is going to mean much, I am sure. He prayed so nicely as we met after service yesterday — said he knew that persecution was only to burn up the dross and bring him out as gold. God grant it in his life.'
Is the 'second mile' ever walked without reward? Never. Our sufferings, our heartaches may never be known to any but Him; we may finish our course and still be 'a nobody' in everyone else's eyes (though I really think Second Mile People
Jenny — A Nobody IOI are too rare and shining not to be noticed sooner or later) but there is always the 'Well done, good and faithful servant' from a Voice beloved beyond any other's; there is always the smile of Jesus,
'Heaven's sunshine'. Our second mile need not be spectacular; Thomas Ragland said, 'Two talents gained a "Well done!".'
* * * And now I have before me a last picture, a little vignette, which illustrates so clearly and so simply
'the second mile' life, especially in its commonplace phases, where you and I may also walk it.
Once we were travelling over a mountain on a cold autumn morning. We were so high that the clouds enfolded us, cold wet gray mist, they seemed. I was chilled to the bone and got out of my chair to walk but even then felt the depression of that piercing encircling fog. Finally John, ahead, called back, 'We are going to descend now! Cheer up dear, we'll soon be in the sunshine.'
A moment later, 'There! Isobel, look! There is the plain!
Down there!' Looking where he pointed I saw a break in the gray cloud that enveloped us, and through it, framed as with silver mist, way, way down, hundreds of feet below lay a long sunny plain, with tree-shaded little hamlets here and there, and merry little brooks and creeks singing their way across it, and resting comfortably against the opposite foothills a big busy Chinese city.
It was to that very city that Jenny was called, at
SecondMile People one time, to 'fill in' for a while until its regular missionary could return. And now I want you to look with me through that frame of silver mist, at this little vignette. In that big city, in a little upper room, Jenny is sitting, elbows on desk, face in hands, blue eyes looking earnestly out through the window. Is it the sun-drenched plain they regard so thoughtfully? No, it is the One inside her heart to whom she is talking — for Jenny is in a dreadful muddle, an unthinkable mess, a tangle of circumstances over which she seemingly had no control — whatever will she do? It is this way.
Long ago Mish. A. lived in this house and owned some furniture here; then she became independent of the CIM, moved away and sold her belongings to Mish. B. Mish. B. in turn, later on, sold to Mish. C., whose place Jenny is 'filling'. But Jenny was told none of this history, and one day along comes a letter from Mish. A. saying she is coming back to work in this city and would like her old furniture back which she had lent to Mish. B.
Jenny happens to be using that very furniture, but believing she has no right to it, says nothing but turns it all over to Mish. A. on her arrival.
Then comes a letter from Mish. C. (who has heard of it) in which Jenny is told that Mish. A. must have suffered a lapse of memory, that the deed of purchase can be produced and that that furniture must be returned.
Now Jenny knows that Mish. A. has not been purposely dishonest; she is well on in years, poor and lonely, she lives very simply and has no other furniture or comforts. Demand these back and
Jenny — A Nobody
what a predicament that poor soul is in; besides .
.. well, wouldn't she be wounded to be told she had 'mis-remembered', when it had been done so guiltlessly!
So there she sits, a little figure in this big mess; the solemn blue eyes are steadily gazing out on the plain, but inside she is saying, 'What would You do, Lord?' The answer comes softly down the centuries — does He ever answer otherwise than thus? — 'If any man compel you to go a mile, go with him twain.'
The blue eyes lifted .
. 'All right, Lord. Thank you. That is what I wanted — just to know.' And Jenny goes out, quietly calls a carpenter, tells him to copy that set of furniture, make new ones exactly like it, and say nothing but charge the bill to her. And this at a time when her own funds were rather low.
For nearly two years Jenny and Hope lived together in a harmony that the Chinese say was unique. Then to Jenny came the fulfilment of a 'heart's desire'. She had long silently cherished a wish to be sent to Lisuland to work; it was a longing that seemed hopeless at first, for no single woman had ever been sent into that difficult mountain country. But prayer opens many closed doors, and after much 'knocking' — very privately, on her knees — this 'door' was opened to her.
She was designated to the southern district, the Mission saying they had decided to make a trial of
SecondMile People single woman workers in Lisu work, and Jenny was to be their first experiment.
A lively young nurse, whose name means 'Purity', was sent to be with Hope, and two weeks after her arrival Jenny set off with a group of delighted
Lisu 'coolies', for the land of her heart's desire.
She sent me a joyous note, 'Goodbye! I hope to die in Lisuland!'