Stones Of Fire
STONES OF
FIRE On Wednesday afternoon Lu-seng walked into Ma-ma's shanty with his face grim.
' 'They've arrived ! At least five Communists are down in Hanna's house—the vanguard, they say and the village is to prepare food for 180 men to-night."
"What are you going to do?" asked Ma-ma.
"Don't know.
The headman, Yi-hwey-pa, has escaped.
Guess he is afraid because of those guns he took by force from northern Lisu this autumn ! The rest of us have no guns. Here is another note for you from Red Thomas. Nathanael brought it just now. We'll be lucky if food is all we lose," he muttered half to himself, and went out by the door.
This note was like the first one; it was very affectionate and humble and assured Ma-ma she would have nothing to fear.
But at dusk Lu-seng once more appeared, his face flushed and angry. "Ma-ma, you've got to go into my house nextdoor. There's going to be a battle here to-night!" Then in a low whisper, and pointing down the southern trail with agitated fmger, "The laird's got soldiers hidden at Shi-kwey-de."
(Shi-kwey-de is a fold in the mountain on the southern trail into Olives.) "They have sent word that they are going to get those five Reds who came to order the food and that they will kill any of us who feed the Communists!"
"Well, what will you do?" whispered Ma-ma in alarm.
"The food is already cooked. We men are going to melt away out of sight.
It's the only thing we can do ; it is not convenient to take sides. We're carrying Mary up to Abigail's house. You and Danny go into mine!"
Lu-seng's new big two-story mud house was nearly finished.
Its walls were over one foot thick, so it was bullet-proof. Mama's house, having only braided bamboo mats for walls would not be safe. As a matter of fact, the big mud house, though it looked so fine, was clammy and damp inside and Mary had had to be removed to Lu-seng-ma's bamboo shanty. But under gun-fire that was not safe, so she was being carried up to the most out-of-the-way shanty.
She had been unable to retain food for a month and was very weak in consequence. Ma-ma waved lovingly to her as she passed by, and a wan smile came back.
THE COMMUNIST STONE OP
FIRB
Ma-ma washed Danny in the big clay house, and as dark fell suddenly three gunshots pierced the quiet at the northern end of the dell, from which the Reds must enter. Caught in among the mountainous rocks, each shot echoed until it sounded like twenty. But after that, all was silent. The whole night passed in peace and the next morning Lu-seng appeared with a grimace.
'Somebody must have told! Not a soul of either side here this morning; all is peace. Mary wants to come back home; she feels better down here, she says."
Thursday passed in peace. Friday morning the Communists were in possession and Red Thomas with his liberation captain and a couple of soldiers stayed in Lu-seng-pa's shanty, so that Mary had to move again, this time to the old chapel next door.
This, the chapel where they were married, had thick clay walls and was now being used as a church kitchen, so, being Lu-seng's property, he had placed a big granary there and made a bed on top of it for Mary. She had had some more haemorrhages and had to he flat all the time now. She heard Lu-seng say to Red
Thomas, "Friend, I do not think you are safe here. You ought to be careful !" And Thomas had replied, "Oh
I have men posted in the hills around. We're watching. " But at noon gunshots in the mountain above were heard. Other shots answered them!
The shooting increased, came nearer, then the voice of Yihwey-pa boomed down the mountain slope, "Every villager to your house! Anyone on the road at the peril of his life!" and this was followed by the "peh-peh-peh" of a machine gun!
Lu-seng-ma, who was cooking in the old chapel now that her own shanty had been taken over by Communists, said to her husband, "What's that?" But before anyone could answer, the door flew open and in rushed Red Thomas. He walked up to Lu-seng-ma and signalled for her turban, "And your coat, Lu-seng-pa," he whispered, then hastily putting them on, he huddled his Communist clothing into a bag, threw it into the corner, and saying, "Look after this for me!" he disappeared out of the door. At the same time shots came fast and furious now from the upper trails going northward; Lu-seng-pa stepped to the door, took one look and said, "We're surrounded! Guess its Grandpa and Captain Tseng."
STONES OF
FIRE "My pig is outside. Do you think .
. ." but Lu-seng-ma did not have time to finish, for the door once more was dashed open and Lu-seng appeared. Going up to Mary, he said, "Everything all right? Can I do anything for you? Well, they have ambushed the Communists and I'm sure they will beat them.
I was helping Ma-ma and Danny into our house to be safe.
I could see from the porch some fellows trying to climb the eastern precipice were peppered by the guns.
I don't think they will make that climb! Did you see where Thomas went? He had on white trousers, and someone like that was racing across the fields trying to make the northern pass. The bullets were hitting the earth all around him, but I think he got away."
"What did he have on his head?" asked Lu-seng-ma indignantly.
"Yes; that's the only thing. He had a turban and a blue coat on, and Thomas, of course, was wearing a soldier's coat and cap.
"Oh?" drawled Lu-seng-pa, reaching for the bag thrown in the corner and pulling out Thomas' cap and coat. "He was, was he? Well, what do you suppose this is?" And then as Luseng excitedly recognized the clothing, the whole story was told.
"Humph," grunted Lu-seng, "We must not harbour his things here for our place will be searched. He is an old friend.
I could not refuse to take him in. Well, I will bury these in the mountainside.
I daren't have them around."
For four hours the fighting raged and at the end of that time the dell was quiet. Four Communists lay dead and three were captured; the rest had melted away. Then the laird's men came down off the trails and hunted through the village.
It was Yihwey-pa all right. He had not escaped to Burma, as some thought, but had merely gone to get the laird and Captain Tseng. Other feudal lairds were joining them, but conveniently had not arrived until they saw that Dwan was going to win.
Again the door of Mary's refuge was dashed open and Boanerges' heathen brother, followed by the laird's soldiers, came in and stood in front of Mary and the granary. "They're harbouring
Red Thomas !
I know they are. He is hiding under Mary at this very moment!" he accused excitedly. The laird's men knew
THE COMMUNIST STONE OF
FIRE HI Lu-seng and hesitated, but Lu-seng himself pushed into the fast-filling room.
"My wife is sick and I won't have her scared. But neither will I put up with these lies. Give me time to get Mary down and into our shanty, and Father—you get the crowbar and open ,, the granary!
It is nailed because it is nearly filled with grain.
"Oh, don't bother," said one of the soldiers, ashamed, as Mary was wearily trying to crawl down from the high cupboard.
"No !
I insist that you prove this accusation false !" demanded Lu-seng, also excited. So after the poor girl had been carried to the lower house, the granary was forced open to reveal just unhidled rice. But it had the effect Lu-seng wished. The soldiers melted out the door shamefaced with apologies, and no one saw the bag still huddled in the corner !
When dark fell on that mountain dell a runner came in from the south. He brought an important piece of news, a Government document, notifying the feudal lairds that the Governor of Yunnan Province had submitted to the Communists and that now the whole province was under the new regime, and calling upon them to submit also !
If only that runner had come at noon! The blood of the Communists was not yet dry on the ground, and here was news that all China had now fallen to them. Feudal lairds in a remote little valley—how could they possible hope to hold it against the whole of China?
The lairds had made their beds in Lu-seng's house, of course.
They always took over the best place in the village. Brother Three, who had not yet his own cabin, at Lu-seng's invitation, was occupying the upper room under which the lairds were to sleep. Until midnight he heard them discussing their problem: how would they gain face with the new regime after the battle of that afternoon? Before dawn they had their solution
—they picked on the weak place in Red Thomas' plans, the Lo-zi-lo-pa he had brought with him. "They weren't Communists we fought," they decided to publish. "They were well known robbers. We were protecting the people." And so when
Saturday morning arrived and Ma-ma arose to meet the new
STONES OF
FIRE day, Brother Three told her at the breakfast table the astounding news that "Grandpa" now was also a Red!
"I can't keep my face straight when I think of it," he said.
"They calmly announced to me just now that they are Communists too—since last night!"
"Weil, what has been worrying me," said Ma-ma anxiously, "are those three boys they have captured, and some say they are going to kill them. Why, they are new believers who were coming to spend Christmas with us. Yesterday was assembling day, you remember. Do you think those boys were Communists?"
"They met Thomas and accepted his badge. That is what makes it impossible for me to do anything."
"Yes, but they did not know all that the badge implied,"
Ma-ma argued anxiously. "Thomas is a Christian. He said he was coming to celebrate Christmas here too. They don't understand this political fight."
"Well, we certainly must try and do something," said Brother Three. "Especially for little Bo-to; he is ordy fifteen years old."
Whereupon the two missionaries prayed and light was given them in this darkness.
Brother Three went to Laird Dwan and Ma-ma to another laird, but the gist of their plea was the same. They said quietly that the group ambushed yesterday were most certainly Communists, for they had talked personally with Red Thomas, and since the lairds themselves were now submitting to the new regime it would be the part of wisdom to deal leniently with those captured. This took the lairds' excuse away, and again they consulted together, corning to the decision to ask for a peace-party and that Brother Three accept the position of guarantor that this was not a trick, but bona-fide. He did so gladly, so each of them drew up a paper to this effect and stamped it with their personal seals. Then came the question the missionaries had been hoping for: who is going to take the letter asking for a truce?
Not a soul of the laird's party was willing to go north into the mountains and hunt for the chagrined and angry Communists !
THE COMMUNIST STONE OP
FIRE
"Why not let young Bo-to take it?" the missionaries suggested. This was hailed with pleasure as a fine solution, and so Bo-to was freed and started on his journey. After a few hours of bustle, the lairds withdrew and the Village of Olives was at last in peace.
It was Christmas Day.
But peace was short-lived. The next day a letter, addressed to Ma-ma, but really meant for the village, arrived, signed by Red Thomas.
It was a very angry letter, accusing Olives of treachery and saying there was no use to refute the charge as he, Red Thomas, knew all about it and the names of those who had played false, and revenge was sure. With that letter came an oral word that the Lo-zi-lo-pa were to be let loose upon Olives to kill, plunder, loot—anything they liked that could be reckoned as punishment! This time it really appeared that Olives was in danger. The lairds and their men had withdrawn; the Lo-zi-lo-pa were noted for their ferocity and ruthlessness, the most dreaded robbers in the canyon, and there was good looting, for Olives had just harvested splendid crops of rice and cotton. This time a temporary withdrawal seemed the wisest course; but that morning Ma-ma had been struck by a verse on her calendar.
It was "Leave not thy place" Eccles.
10:4.
It had come with that impress of the spirit which accompanies the voice of the Lord.
"I do not know why, but I believe God has told me not to run," she said.
"Well, I can't run," said Lu-seng. "Mary is in no condition for such. We must stay, whatever happens. After the fighting on Friday she had two haemorrhages and was unconscious/
Brother Three said that he certainly was not going to run, and so they waited, hour after hour, even for several days, trusting the Lord to undertake, which He did.
The man in white trousers who successfully dodged those many bullets was not Thomas after all, but a local cowherd on his way home ! Thomas had hidden himself in Lu-seng's haystack by the road to the waterhole. All night he lay concealed there, and as everyone went up that trail to get water for supper, and were discussing the affair, Thomas learned everything. He learned how Yi-hwey-pa had run to summon Laird Dwan,
STONES OP
FIRE which of the heathen villagers had helped, pointing out where the Reds were hiding—he had learned everything, just as he said.
But before the Lo-zi-lo-pa were let loose, little Bo-to with his peace letters had arrived and that changed the complexion of the whole situation. No telegraph or telephone, not even a daily postal system—there was no way by which Thomas could inform Ma-ma that the proposals were accepted until she received word that the Communist truce party were already in the village and on their way up to her shanty for an interview with her ! In that one hour she received a second piece ofnews namely, that the lairds had changed their mind. They had heard that truce would mean that they must hand over their guns, and that,
Laird Dwan said, he would never do! The messenger casually added that one of the peace party already ascending the hill to see Ma-ma was a Communist woman soldier
! That, to Ma-ma, was like the last straw. She pictured a young Amazon-with-apitchfork type of female, and her heart sank, but they were almost there.
Dusk had fallen as the Communist party entered. Ma-ma's first anxious glance searched for the woman soldier; then she gave a sigh of relief, for she was just a slightly built Chinese student girl in the usual blue cotton gown, big rain-hat, and cloth slippers on her feet. The villagers, heathen as well as Christian, were pouring into the shanty, so Ma-ma slipped toward a seat at the side.
"Fasten that door open!" commanded the Koh-chang deputy officer of a department. The door was obediently tied back by one of his men. The party consisted of four, the Kohchang, the young captain who had been ambushed, Red Thomas, and the girl soldier. Ma-ma offered tea. The three men took it brusquely, but the girl refused it. Corning in last, she had taken a seat at the table next the door, the seat usually occupied by Ma-ma at breakfast, and Ma-ma made a mental note,
"She'll catch cold, for when that door is open that seat is right in a big draught." But more important matters were at stake: would the Laird Dwan ambush again?
But the Koh-chang was speaking.
"Madam, which of my men robbed you?"
THE COMMUNIST STONE OP
FIRE H5 "None, sir," was Ma-ma's quiet reply.
"Then why did you kill them?"
"We did not, sir, and the lairds say they mistook you for robbers." Ma-ma decided she would say no more; the Lisu heathen who were responsible were sitting beside her.
"Those lairds have too much power," snarled the Koh-chang.
"The way they oppress these poor people ! Boycotting them on salt, making women carry injurious loads up steep mountains so that they can fatten themselves by a better salt market. ..." and he went on. Ma-ma sat upright and listened. Where had he learned all that? This was interesting, and so far it was true.
But as he went on, relating various incidents that had taken place within the last six months, an old sinner at Ma-ma's left began to get uncomfortable, for the Koh-chang was hitting him too, and at last he put in a word.
It was an excuse, soft and flatteringly couched in nice words, but almost slimy with falseness. The girl soldier had been silent up to this point, but as that suave, slippery effort to escape judgment ended, she straightened, turned and flashed a fire that made the old sinner cower back.
She did not yell, her voice was low and cultured, but she just whipped off the veil with which he had tried to hide his deeds, exposed it for what it was, and with short, scathing contempt turned back to her previous haughty silence.
"My goodness, you can talk when you want to," thought Ma-ma to herself. "That was magnificently done, and like a lady too.
I wonder who you are, and how you came into this wild canyon with such company?" Then, as she watched, suddenly a vision of Joan of Arc flashed into her mind. "Why, bless your heart, you're a little old patriot. That explains it.
I hope you don't catch cold in that draught ! I'd like to get you a coat. No, I'd better not; they will think I'm toadying.
I don't want to be classed with this hypocrite here. I'd better keep my hands off." And so Ma-ma settled back to listen to the Kohchang, who was now discussing politics with a stranger who sat on Ma-ma's right. By and by the Communist girl began to sniffle.
"Yes, you are catching cold all right,"
Ma-ma's mental soliloquy went on. "It's too bad that such an earnest little thing
STONES OF
FIRE should get sick. She may be deluded, but she's made of good stuff. Wonder if I dare chance it? Yes, I will." And without warning Ma-ma ran up the ladder to the loft where she slept, and returned with a coat.
"I am afraid you are catching cold," she said pleasantly and proffered the garment.
In a second that girl had stiffened and thrown up her hands in a gesture of icy refusal.
The Koh-chang was a bit ashamed. "Oh, she is all right, madam. She is tough. She travels the road with us men, sleeps by the roadside if we have to. We came from Ma-pu-la-de to-day. She can take it."
"That is not it, sir," replied Ma-ma putting the proffered coat aside. "That is my seat at mealtimes, and when the door is open there is a big draught there. She has been mountain climbing and is heated; I was afraid that she would catch cold. That is all. You are not in danger, for the draught only hits her seat."
Then Ma-ma sat down, but as she did so she noticed that the student girl had at last taken in Ma-ma's real motive. She flushed a rosy red to the roots of her hair, turned as if to apologize, though still not accepting the coat. "Hm," thought Ma-ma.
"She did not understand. She thought it was American patronage of her apparent poverty. Well, I like her. Wish I could get a chance to talk to her."
In the meantime the crowd had been gradually leaving. Red Thomas was warned that the lairds were reported to have changed their minds, and he hastily called his comrades into the room assigned for their sleeping quarters. Unknown to Ma-ma, Lu-seng had also called a secret meeting of the deacons.
"We are not Communists," he informed them, "but in the person of our white missionaries we have pledged our honour that this peace party shall not meet with treachery.
I can see no other way than that we men guard all the trails leading in to this village all night, so that they will not be surprised by an attack. I want five men for each trail, and I myself will join one group. Once daylight comes, the peace party must take its chances; we will have fulfilled our part."
This was done. On his way by the window of the house
THE COMMUNIST STONE OF
FIRE H7 where the Communists were sitting around their fire, Lu-seng overheard one of them say fearfully to the others, "Are you sure that Laird Dwan is not even right now hiding in some friendly hut in the village ?" but Red Thomas assured them not.
He had learned of the action of the church—a December night in the mountains to stand guard all night was no small thing.
The next morning dawned clear and sunny, and all had been peaceful. Ma-ma overhead the young Communist captain say to someone, "Well, they are not all bad men in this village!
If you ask me, most of them are a rare good sort!" She smiled to herself: "They must have learned about the guards last night."
By ten o'clock the road ahead had been examined and pronounced clear, and Red Thomas called the peace party to gather for departure. Ma-ma went out and, seeing the girl soldier standing by herself looking over the little dell, she went up to her.
"How old are you, Yang Lao-si?"
"Twenty-one," was the smiling reply.
"I have a daughter in America who is a student too, and you make me think of her."
"Lady Teacher, we Communists and you are brothers.
I think you have done a wonderful work in reducing this Lisu language to writing, and also the whole effect of your work has been most impressive to me.
I came down over the ninth district"
(which is almost all heathen) "and then into your Christian district, and I could not but see the difference between the heathen Lisu and the Christian Lisu. The heathen are opium sots, liars, thieves, you cannot depend on them. The Christians are so different; they are like us. So I say, we are brothers."
"Well, my dear," answered Ma-ma slowly, "there are similarities without any doubt. But as I see it, it is like this. You Communists are trying to change men's conduct. You want equality, all having the same chances in life. Christ wants that too, but He changes mens hearts. If you only force a change in conduct, you have not solved your problem.
It will break out again. But if you change men's hearts the conduct rights itself iust naturally. All our Christians were heathen to start with."
Miss Yang looked thoughtful. Then her face cleared. "Oh,
STONES OP
FIRB yes, but we are going to change men's hearts too," she exclaimed.
"We are going to change men's hearts too !" Just at that moment her comrades called her to join them, so Ma-ma gave her a couple of tracts, which she started to read tripping happily down the trail.
Ma-ma stood and watched her go with a yearning in her heart. "You are a dear and I pity you," she soliloquized. "You are obviously an idealist; that explains it.
I suppose it is only the idealist who would offer to liberate such a place as this canyon is. But you are bound to disappointment if you think that man can change man's heart. You can change man's thinking with your careful indoctrinations, but that has not changed his heart, little girl ! 'For men shall be lovers of their own selves
. without natural affection .
. truce-breakers .
. having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.' Wait until your life's happiness is in the hands of such, and you will find your hopes turned to ashes. You will find that, though the tliinking has changed, the sin is still there, the corruption is still going on, the man is still undependable.
It was not a mere change in thinking that made opium-smokers, thieves and liars into the Christians who guarded you last night! You poor child. Disillusionment is a bitter experience. You will have no hope left unless .
. unless you remember that in Lisuland you did see hearts and conduct permanently changed by One called Christ.
And you saw honour and love at work, not just talking. You do not know that it is Christ who only can make men brothers; it is Christ alone who really cares for the under-dog. You heard of His principles under the borrowed name of Communism, and, falling in love with Him, that is what brought you into this canyon, just as that is what brought me.
I would like to be on the Lisu trail when you come back disillusioned.
I would like to help you find Him.
"But you have been a real challenge to me too. You have deliberately stripped yourself of privileges you might have had in order to come down to the level of the Lisu people. You walk their trails (thirty miles you did yesterday; that is superb) and sleep on their board beds, eating their coarse food without a murmur, never asking for anything better. I've been disgruntled
THE COMMUNIST STONE OF
FIRE
sometimes lately because living conditions continue so rough: that old ladder, the smoke, the draughts and so on. But I see now it was the Lord's kindness to me, so that I might not have to blush in your presence. You are tough, the Koh-chang said.
Disciplined, he meant.
I would that the Western world accept the challenge of your life, or they will never be your victor in the end."
It will take stones offire to conquer Communism.
One brave missionary who elected to stay behind with the Chinese Church when others of her mission were withdrawing wrote: "We must out-love, out-serve, out-sacrifice any others who claim to have a way to solve life's problems."
From His Pocket to His Crown MA-MA was distinctly worried about Mary's condition.
For over a month now she had not been able to retain food, and the polypus was growing like nothing Ma-ma had ever seen. It was also septic. If only Ma-pa and Eva would come
Then one day (January 8th, 1950) they were sighted coming along the winding trail into Olives ! What a reunion that was but before nightfall Ma-ma led Eva into Lu-seng-ma's hut, where
Mary now lay.
"Do you remember Sister Eva who taught you how to knit in Girls' Bible School in 1943 ?" Ma-ma said gently.
Mary smiled her wan smile and reached out a pitifully thin hand. Hope was high in every breast as Eva turned her flashlight on that throat.
"No; I have never seen anything like this before" she said.
"All my three years in the Tali Hospital we never had a case like this. But I will use what medicines I have and we will see."
Then everything that love and medical skill could devise was done to make Mary comfortable, and she felt so much better that in a few days' time she even sat up outside in the sunshine.
But one night, as it was nearing dawn, Lu-seng-pa called Ma-ma and Eva. Mary's little daughter was still-born. Again Nurse Eva's skill helped the weak and fainting mother, and now that the cause of the nausea was gone, hope once more soared. But the polypus had gone down into the throat and speech was blocked. Mary signalled to Eva and asked her to try to operate, for there was Samuel Ju, also a graduate, who could be called in to assist. If only that polypus were out, Mary felt that she would begin to get strong again. Ma-pa had responded to the telegram and the necessary instrument was now right in the village.
FROM
HIS POCKET TO
HIS CROWN
I5I To comfort her, Ma-ma agreed, and two Lisu were sent the six days' journey to Paoshan city to bring back an anaesthetic and medical instructions. There was no hope that the doctor could come when the countryside was so upset politically.
Indeed Ma-ma knew that this was merely a gesture of sympathy to comfort the sick one; even two graduate nurses could hardly perform such an operation.
Mary's patience and fortitude were wonderful. Always her New Testament and the hymn-book she had won as Bible Club award lay on a ledge near her hand, and with all her physical misery there was still an atmosphere of rest and quietness. The only time Ma-ma knew her to be angry or display emotion was when Martha or heathen relatives began to wail like heathen do. Then her eyes flashed fire and an imperious wave of the hand was more eloquent than speech. She forbad them.
Once when feeling very weak she signed to Ma-ma, and as Ma-ma bent over her, Mary waved her hand from herself up to the sky, then put her hands together in the attitude of prayer, closed her eyes a moment, then opened them and looked keenly to see if her message had been understood.
Ma-ma nodded and right there, prayed that if it were not God's will to make her better, He would take her quickly to Himself. When the prayer was over, Mary smiled and formed her lips into the Lisu words for "Thank you," and the peace once more reigned on her face.
The messengers from Paoshan were already on the return journey when one night, January 28th, 1950, about 2.0 o'clock,
Timothy came underneath Ma-ma's window and called her.
"Mary has fallen asleep," he said.
"Praise God," replied Ma-ma, even though there was that human stab of the heart when a loved one leaves us. "Did she suffer?"
"No," he replied. "We were all asleep, when Lu-seng-pa woke up and realized that the rattle-breathing from Mary's bed, which has been constant night and day for a couple of weeks now, had stopped. The room was silent. He got some pine
STONES OF
FIRE chips, lit them and found—she was gone. Are you coming down to sing the death song?"
When the Lisu Christians depart, instead of the heathen's death wail, their brethren in Christ gather around and sing, "Sleep on, beloved."
It was a quavering little chorus that dawn, for this one and then that one would break down for a second, then try to take it up again. It is not easy to say goodbye.
Just twenty-five years old! Oh why did God let it happen?
He has not yet explained the reason. But if the great GemLover decided that He wanted to transfer this little stone of fire from His pocket to His crown, who dare say Him nay? In His pocket it is sweet to His touch, but in His crown myriads can enjoy it, who would otherwise not even know it existed. And what a joy for her! To go to sleep in that little dark hut; then, a touch on her shoulder. She looks up and sees the King in His beauty, His radiance, filling the poor little cluttered hut, until, like soft moonlight, it had blurred out the ugliness and merged all objects into a soothing dimness.
"Come," said that Loved One. "Enter into the joy of your Lord."
And the shining hosts behind Him, smiling and longing to come closer to escort her? Boanerges' adult daughter and son.
Azor's first wife. Yes, she was not leaving the dear brethren of Olives; she was just joining the other part of their family.
Did she turn and give one quick glance at that emaciated form on the bed? Her old earthly clothes, that body was. Oh what joy to be free from it, to take a deep breath of the exhilarating nectar of heaven. "Yes, O wondrous Captain of my salvation, and dear heavenly friends,
I am ready. Let us be gone!"
"Then forth on joyful wing cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward Ifly."
From His pocket to His crown. Dare anyone say it was not fair?
The strains of the Christian death song floating through the cold dawn of that mountain village announced to all what had happened. In no time Martha was flying over the trail, weeping as she came. Once at the bedside, she lapsed into the old heathen
FROM
HIS POCKET TO
HIS CROWN
I53 death chanting, quite unconscious that it was exactly what Mary would not have wanted. "My little sister, I will not see you again," she wailed rocking back and forth till Ma-ma went and shook her, trying to bring her to her Christian senses, but a dazed upward look was all the reply. Martha's soul was in the days gone by, wandering through the memory lanes of childhood, calling, calling for the one who had always been at her side.
Never in all her sixteen years in the canyon had Ma-ma heard such a mourning as took place. For three days, late into the night and before daylight, someone was wailing. Even Lu-seng could not stop it, and as no grave was ready he could not shorten the mourning until all was prepared. The heathen of course, made the greatest noise, for the real Christian does not wail.
Several times Ma-ma went down to the hut to see if she could help. One such time the room was empty, but Lydia had entered just ahead of Ma-ma, so preoccupied that she never saw who was following her. Ma-ma stopped at the door and watched.
Lydia went softly up to the coffin and drew back the sheet from the placid young face. She gazed and gazed and then hot tears began to drop. Long did she stand there, unconscious of an audience, weeping silently over Mary's face. Ma-ma tiptoed away with a prayer o( gratitude in her heart.
" 'To meddle is to muddle'—the Great Lover of souls has His own ways of awakening us," she thought.
When at last all was ready and the pall-bearers were called in line (stalwart youths of Olives, heathen as well as Christian had offered) one of the tallest and biggest of them was crying out aloud like a five-year-old. Lu-seng, eyes red and swollen, had previously brought in to Ma-pa a wooden cross, which he had made himself.
"Please print on this—'She finished her course triumphantly/ " he said, then quickly turned and ran away.
At the close of the little service at the open grave, Lu-seng, who had been weeping, pulled himself together, and stepped forward. "I wish to say a word," he said. "I want to explain the words on the cross. Some of you are heathen and know not the
STONES OF
FIRE power of the Lord. But you all know that Mary never faltered in her faith. You know how she suffered. You know that she never complained. It is only God that can strengthen us to finish like that." Then there followed a simple exhortation of the heathen present—and within a week two of them had turned to the Saviour. Fire from God's opal was still kindling hearts.
Just one more scene.
It was at the foot of the great eleventhousand-foot pass over which Ma-ma and Danny had to go in order to reach America. Rain had fallen and that brought an early darkness, so that there was nothing to do but go to bed.
The party had arrived at the last human habitation before crossing the great peaks, and as the carriers and all were thirteen in number, quarters were cramped. Ma-ma had put Danny to bed, and had also retired with him. Next their bed was an open fire, still glowing from the fuel which cooked the evening meal.
On the other side of the fire was another plank bed, occupied by Lu-seng and Caleb.
Darkness, soot, cupboards and junk filled every space, and outside the drip, drip of rain on soft mud made adventure impossible, so both young men were stretched out on their bed too. Not sleepy, not able to move around, Caleb, usually a silent boy in Olives, began to talk;
"Mary, that wife of yours, was wonderful." Ma-ma lying in the dark on the other side of the fire, threw the blanket back so she could listen better. But Caleb did not notice; he was lost in memory and the privacy of the darkness made it easy for him, for once, to talk his thoughts out loud. "I cannot tell you how I miss her.
I did not feel it as much when my own mother died. Somehow you expect the old folks to drop off, some time. You know it is coming. But the companion of your childhood! When I herd the cows up there on that knoll and come upon her grave, it is like a knife in my heart. She was always such a help to me. She was so faithful, always in her place in church, rain or shine, and even there she helped me. A look from Mary steadied a fellow. She did not know it, but many times, when the talk might be getting boisterous or something, just the expression on her face would straighten me up. And she
FROM
HIS POCKET TO
HIS CROWN
always cared so much if anything happened to any of us. Our sorrow was her sorrow. And she was so pure—she never knew how much she helped me to go straight !
I miss her even yet.
I can't seem to get over it." And so on for about half an hour.
He talked so fast, and brought up village incidents with which Ma-ma was not acquainted, so that now and again she lost the trend of it, but invariably he came back to the same point.
When Mary died, something which had strengthened and blessed him was found to be gone. The darkness hid Lu-seng's face, but once, when a pause seemed to expect a remark from him, he said in a low voice, "She had wonderful endurance."
That little stone of fire was like a meteor. As it shot up to God it left a trail of light behind it which surprised everybody.
The village had not realized v/hat a spiritual prop the quiet maiden was until there came the desire to lean again, and the prop was missing.
God needs more stones of fire to-day. He can quarry them anywhere, and He does not need rare materials with which to make them; desert dust, sand, silica, these can be found anywhere:
"Principle shot through with passion; passion held by principle."
There must be a yielding before it will hold. There must be an offering before the fire falls. The rest is the work of the Master lapidary.
The stone is only a stone until its heart is broken and the air has a chance to get in. The Christian convert is only a principle until he lets God have His way with him ; break his heart, if that has to be! Anything, in order to rip open the hardness and let
God in! When the air has filled the fissures, then the stone is no longer a pebble.
It is a gem, a precious opal, a stone of fire.
-*•'
•:••
taxes of Fire Stones of Fire is the true story of Mary, a young Lisu tribeswoman who lived in south-west China, where Isobel Kuhn and her husband were pioneer missionaries.
The stone is only a stone until its heart is broken and the air has a chance to get in. The Christian convert is only a principle until he lets God have His way with him; break his heart, if that has to be ! Anything, in order to rip open the hardness and let God in!
When the air has filled the fissures, then the stone is no longer a pebble.
It is a gem, a precious opal, a stone of fire.'
ISBN 9971 -972 -00-X
ANOMFBOOK