Finding His Life-Work
The Refuge at Fan-ts’uen now became the testingplace where first experiments were made. Fan, in his gratitude for the relief Hsi had afforded, was more than ever grateful to his friend. Together they worked, planned, and prayed. Hsi was from the first marked out for leadership by possessing in unusual degree the power to lead; and as he was also doctor and druggist in one, the chief responsibility tended inevitably to devolve upon him.
Before long the anti-opium medicine prepared for the Refuge became deservedly famous. Fan was in difficulty to know how to accommodate all the patients seeking treatment. Hsi came over more often, staying days at a time to help in various ways. The work was financially and spiritually successful, and developed the men whose hearts were in it for larger efforts in days to come.
As to the need for such enterprise there could be no divergence of opinion in Shan-si, where, according to common report, eleven out of every ten smoked opium!
For almost a century the fatal habit had been gaining ground in China. Fostered by foreign merchants, it had laid hold upon that immense population with astonishing rapidity. Every effort to prohibit the trade had proved unavailing, supported as it was by the strength of European arms. Compelled against their will to admit vast quantities of imported opium,^ the Government, in self-defence, at last relaxed the stringent laws forbidding the cultivation of the poppy on Chinese soil; with the result that everywhere rich tracts of wheat -producing land had been given up to the growth of opium.
Shan-si had suffered as much, if not more, than any other part of the interior. From the cities the trouble spread to the villages, and from the men to the women — even infants being born with a craving for the poison. Few habitual smokers ever succeeded in escaping that terrible bondage, which had become so general in Hsi’s day, that the people of his province might well have echoed the piteous appeal addressed by their fellow-countrymen to the Confucian scholars of Canton.
“We aged artisans,” wrote the village elders of that district,” are reduced to extremity in providing for our families. This bitter poverty, sadness, and pain is entirely owing to the injury of opium. We piteously beseech you. Teachers, to have compassion on the poor, and establish a law of prohibition in the villages.
‘During the entire reign of Queen Victoria, opium was exported from India at the rate of half a ton every hour of the day and night; almost all of which found its way to China. Half a ton of opium means about eighteen thousand ounces, sufficient to poison outright more than thirty thousand people.
“As for us, during the reign of Hien-fung, we were able to live by our labour. When it came to the reign of Tung-chi it was difficult to make a subsistence. Why was this? During the reign of Hien-fung there were brought from the English dominions, of the smoking dirt, eighty or ninety thousand boxes, and there were exported from China more than fifty million ounces of silver, and from Canton alone eighteen millions.
“Moreover, those who smoke the foreign drug are often led thereby to lewdness and gambling, which bring an added waste in Canton yearly oi several millions. In all, yearly, counting the silver exported and wasted, it amounts to more than twenty millions. How is it possible that there should be enough left for legitimate uses?
“When business and trade are so little, how can we aged artisans have employment?
“The injury caused by opium may be called most bitter, most poverty-producing, most sad, most poisonous. Bowing down, we beg you. Teachers, on every side, to instruct the people of the villages, and to request the village authorities to forbid the smoking of opium. Then money will return to the country, trade will gradually revive, and we shall be saved from rags and beggary. Then in all the towns and villages men and women, old and young, will be grateful indeed.”
“We women made a public statement,” wrote the despairing wives and mothers;” afflicted and dis-
1 This Emperor reigned from 1862 to 1875; or, more correctly, was represented by his mother and the present Empress-Dowager, who acted as regents.
tressed we hasten to pour out a mournful complaint. Bowing down, we beg that regulations may be established for the prohibition of opium in the villages.
“When, in youth, we went to the homes of our husbands, we did not suffer cold and hunger. But from the time our husbands and sons smoked opium, the children that were dressed — our sons in red, our daughters in green — in the twinkling of an eye came to rags. Ornamental halls and grand houses all vanished in smoke. Those who before protected their families are themselves reduced to the appearance of beggars. The beds have no coverlets; the household utensils contain no food. Hungry, there is nothing to eat; cold, there are no clothes to wear. The fault is surely with opium. In our distress it is difficult to give expression to the feelings that rend the breast. There is no tear we shed that is not red with blood.
“We have long been looking to you, Teachers, as the hope of the villages. Bowing down, we entreat that you will take this matter in hand, and everywhere exhort the people not to make these purchases to their injury; so that men and women may be preserved alive. In this way those who receive blessings from you will be more than a thousand families and ten thousand households; the women and the children will rejoice, and the people of the villages be happy indeed.”
But what power had Confucianism to help the sufferers in their need? Too many of the ruling class were themselves enslaved to opium-smoking. Legislation was useless, as long as foreign nations, at the point of the sword, insisted upon flooding the country with “the flowing poison.” And as to any hope of rescue for the confirmed opium-smoker — could water be made to run uphill, or fire not to burn?
But from all this misery and degradation Hsi had been delivered, and into it now he was sent with hope and help for thousands.
The work of the Fan-ts’uen Refuge was full of diiificulty, however, as well as of encouragement; and often enough Hsi and his associates found both faith and courage taxed to the utmost. Prayer was the great resource, and many were the gracious answers granted to their petitions.
Some among the patients, for example, unknown to them, might be suffering from serious maladies in addition to the opium-habit, and interference with the accustomed supply of the drug would give rise to alarming complications. Others had taken to opium in the first instance for the relief of acute illness, and any lessening of the dose meant a return of the original malady. It was impossible, in such cases, to foretell the course of events, and at any hour of the day or night symptoms might arise that threatened a fatal issue.
To have a patient die in the Refuge in those early days might easily have wrecked the whole work. But Hsi, when such troubles arose, would give himself to prayer and fasting, if necessary for days together. The power of God was very manifest on these occasions; and many of the worst sufferers were healed in a remarkable way. As the fame of these doings spread through the countryside, sick people began to come from distant places, suffering with all sorts of ailments, and present themselves at the Refuge, asking to be prayed for.
“At that time,” wrote Hsi, “the Lord frequentlyused me in the Refuge and in neighbouring villages, to heal diseases through prayer, and to cast out devils. Between fifty and sixty men believed in the Lord Jesus, and met regularly (at Fan-ts’uen) for worship. This was during the fourth year of my Christian life.”
But Hsi and his fellow-workers were not content with praying themselves only; they did all in their power to lead the patients also to pray. Every one entering the Refuge was expected to join in morning and evening worship.
“If you are not willing,” they would say, “to unite with us in prayer to the true and living God, we cannot undertake the responsibility of your case.”
For Hsi had no confidence in medical treatment alone to accomplish a permanent cure. From his own experience he was sure that a power more terrible than opium lay behind the fascination of the drug. Sin was to him the grip of the devil, and the opium -habit one of the strongest chains with which he binds the soul. Men of iron will might break even those fetters, but that would not free them from the tyranny of Satan, and in nine cases out of ten they would return to the vice before long. Medicine was good; help and sympathy in the hour of need invaluable; but Hsi knew only one Deliverer, and He never failed.
So his first care was to point men to Christ, deprecating trust in himself or any medical treatment apart from the power of the living Saviour. All their own strength, and all the help that could be given, must prove unavailing when the real struggle began; a fact the poor fellows were ready enough to believe, in their hours of anguish. Then came the practical test; and the relief of suffering in answer to prayer was the miracle that first drew many of those fifty or sixty to the feet of Jesus.
It was indeed wonderful to see how immediate was the response that often followed those simple, childlike prayers. But to Hsi and his associates it seemed most natural. For — was it not prayer in the name of Jesus?
On one occasion, for example, three men came together from a neighbouring village, begging to be taken into the Refuge. Hsi was there at the time, as it happened, and was doubtful about receiving them on account of age. They were all advanced in years, the youngest being over sixty, and were opium-smokers of long standing. But they were so eager to be cured that, finally, they were admitted, the principles of the Refuge having been made especially plain.
For the first day or two all went well, and the old men became much interested in the Gospel. But by the third evening one of them was feeling desperate, and during the night he called the others, begging them to rouse Hsi or Fan, and get something to relieve his agony.
“Why should we wait for that?” cried his friends.
“It is not medicine you need. Kneel down, and let us pray.’’
Only a poor cave-room in that little village, far away in the heart of China, and three old men kneeling alone at midnight. Was He there, that wonderful Saviour? Would He respond with ready succour as of old?
Tremblingly the cry went up in the darkness: “O Jesus, help me! Save me! Save me now.”
A few minutes later the sufferer was lying quietly wrapped in his wadded coverlet again. His groans ceased. His distress passed away. And in a little while he was fast asleep.
“Jesus truly is here,” whispered the others. And they too slept till morning.
Then bright and early they were up, eager to tell their story, and with smiling faces accosted every one they met:
“True? Why, of course it’s true! We know all about it. Your Jesus does indeed hear and answer prayer.”
They were overflowingly happy, with a joy and confidence that proved contagious. And faith in many hearts was strengthened. For such testimony cannot be gainsaid.
Among the men brought to the Lord in those early days at Fan-ts’uen, were several who afterwards developed into valued leaders in the opium refuge work. They were hard cases some of them, but prayer prevailed, and the result was worth the cost. Such a man was Song, of Fan’s own village, who was the means of winning hundreds to faith in
Christ; or Liu of So-pu, afterwards well known as a deacon of the Hung-tung church.
Five miles north-east of the Refuge, this man, a noted gambler, lived in a little hamlet among the hills. He had long been a slave to opium, and seemed as hopelessly sunk in sin as any one could be. His wife, a constant sufferer, was hardly able to drag along from day to day; and they had no son to care for their advancing years. Tidings of what was taking place at Fan-ts’uen reached Liu in his miserable life, but far from being attracted by what he heard, he was enraged to think that the “foreign-devil doctrine” should have found adherents in his neighbourhood and be gaining so much influence.
One day he learned that a friend of his, also an opium-smoker, had been so far deluded by the enthusiasts at Ban-ts’uen as to put himself into their hands for treatment. He had actually gone into the opium refuge, and was fast being won over to the strange, faith.
As if this were not enough, a few weeks later Chang himself appeared, his face radiant, his opium craving gone, and his heart full of the love of Christ With surly indifference Liu listened to his story, but Chang exclaimed:
“Elder brother, why do not you also give up opium-smoking, and pray that your sins may be forgiven?” He angrily retorted: “What! bewitched yourself, and deceived by these foreign devils, would you have me too drawn into the snare?” And in sudden passion drove him from the house.
Undiscouraged, Chang soon paid a second visit.
But this time Liu was more violent than ever, and his friend had to retire, feeling that no good had been accomplished.
After he was gone, poor Liu could no longer stifle the convictions that for some time had been troubling him. Conscience spoke, and would not be silenced. Lying awake that night his misery was so great that he cried aloud:
“Wife, what have I done? Surely my sins are overwhelming! Alas, I have driven from the house the only friend who can help us. Though I have shamefully reviled him, I would give anything to be as he is! His opium craving is cured, and his heart is at peace. How different our condition! You live a life of weakness and suifering, and I am destroyed by this opium. What was it Chang said about his God, the true and living God? Did he not seem to think there was hope even for us?”
“If there be a living God,” responded the poor woman, “doubtless He could help us. Certainly no one else can. But you have treated Chang so badly he will never come again.”
“Wife,” replied Liu with conviction, “if his God is indeed willing to help us, Chang will come back. Something tells me so. And if he does, I will listen to his words.”
Meanwhile Chang was praying; and after a few days he decided to try once more. Making his way slowly toward the house, he found Liu at home, and was surprised by a friendly welcome. Then, over a cup of tea,^ came the unexpected question:
‘Tea in Shan-si often means nothing but hot water, as the people are poor and tea-leaves expensive.
“Brother Chang, how was it, after all, that you were able to break off opium?”
“Ah,” he answered guardedly, “I fear it is no use repeating that story, for you seem determined not to believe. If only you would try the same plan, however, your craving too would be conquered, and your wife’s illness cured.”
“I am indeed ready to believe,” cried Liu earnestly. “Only explain to me this wonderful religion.”
“If you want to understand,” replied Chang, “you must be willing to put away your idols, and all that goes with the worship of false gods. In that case, come with me to the Fan village, and you shall find out for yourself the power of Christ to save.”
To this Liu readily consented, and Chang bore him off in triumph. His fame had gone before; and when Fan took in the situation, he received the new patient cordially, overjoyed to bring so notorious a sinner into an atmosphere of love and prayer.
And now the opium -smoking gambler found himself surrounded by conditions that were new and strange indeed. He could not account for the kindness of these Christians, nor for their constant cheerfulness and joy. They seemed to be all the time either singing or praying, and this not as a religious duty, but just as naturally as he would grumble and swear. And yet, what there was to make them happy, for the life of him he could not tell I They were poor, like himself, and had to work hard. They did not drink wine, or play cards. They neither attended theatricals, nor spent money in feasting and fine clothes. He could discover no reason why they should be more satisfied than other people. But so contented were they, that they seemed never to quarrel or fight. The men did not beat their wives; unless they did it at night, when he was not there to see; and the women went about their work with good temper, so that the disturbances so common in “the inner apartments” were conspicuous by their absence.
There was a warmth too about their kindness that made his heart glad. Nothing seemed any trouble to them. They would get up at night if he were suffering, to make him food or tea; would sing to him, and comfort him with pleasant, cheery talk; and if that were not sufficient, they would go down on their knees beside his bed, and tell all his troubles to their unseen God. This was the strangest thing of all, for when they prayed for him he was sure to be relieved. Who could this new God be?
Gradually, as the days wore on, a change was noticeable in the So-pu patient. His opium craving lessened, his strength returned, and he began to take a deep interest in the Gospel. But there was a burden somewhere; and instead of growing happier, he seemed only the more troubled. Observing this, Fan said to him at length:
“Elder brother, your heart is not at rest. Why are you sad and anxious?”
“It is the illness of my wife that troubles me,” responded Liu. “Under your care and treatment, I am coming back to life again, and hope revives in my heart. But she, who through my sins has suffered greatly, is sick and all alone. I do not even know, after this interval, whether she is living or dead.”
“Why did you not speak of this before?” cried Fan. “Let us at once ask our Heavenly Father to make her better. And as soon as you are well enough, we will go over and see if we can help.”
Daily, to Liu’s astonishment, the Christians continued to remember in prayer this sufferer they had never seen; and with apparent confidence they assured him that it was just as easy for the Lord Jesus to heal people at a distance as near at hand.
“He did so when on earth,” they said.” And now there is no far and near, for He is everywhere.’’
Meanwhile, Mrs. Liu in the mountain village was wondering what had become of her husband. In spite of his evil ways she loved him, and was lonely in his absence, as well as sick and sad. Once and again a rumour reached her that he was doing well: and whether it was this, or simply her desire to grow strong, that she might make home a little brighter for his return, she certainly did improve, much to her own surprise.
At the first opportunity, Liu and Fan set out for So-pu, to see what answer had been given to their prayers. Not expecting any great change, Liu led the way to his little courtyard, on which the caverooms opened.
“I am ashamed to bid you enter. Brother Fan! Pray do not laugh at our unworthy dwelling.”
But as soon as he saw his wife’s face, all else was forgotten in joy and wonder. The first glance told him she was better; and when she hastened to light the fire and prepare tea with her own hands.
a thing he had not known her to do for years, his astonishment was complete.
This seemed indeed almost a miracle, and Liu could not tell what to make of it. He returned with Fan to the Refuge, and heard the Christians praising God and continuing as before to plead for blessing on himself and his wife: but still he could not pray. There was a hymn they used to sing, beginning: “Alas! my heart is all darkness.” That seemed just to express his case; but as he went no further than the first line, it did not help him much.
A little later, when his cure was complete, he went down with a number of inquirers from the Refuge to one of the quarterly meetings at P’ingyang, and there met with Hsi for the first time. Having heard of him as a professional gambler noted for dishonesty and daring, Hsi was delighted to find him free from opium-smoking and evidently anxious about the welfare of his soul. Patiently he sought to meet his difficulties and lead him into peace; with the result that Liu went back to the Refuge when the conference was over, rejoicing in full salvation.
And now the time came for leaving his new friends. At one of the last meetings Fan took as his subject the cleansing of the lepers, of whom only the Samaritan returned to give thanks. This greatly impressed Liu, who felt as if he had been delivered from a condition at least as bad as theirs.
“Nine men out of the ten,” thought he, “forgot Him who had cleansed them! I will be the one to return and give thanks for God’s grace.”
He hastened home at once and told his wife all that was in his heart, praising and blessing God for His wonderful goodness to them both. Soon Mrs. Liu also found the Saviour; and so much was she strengthened physically that her husband declared they were “like two people raised from the dead.” From that changed home in So-pu shone a light so bright and cheering that it brought hope to many a dark heart among the mountains.
“Elder brother, what has made you so different? And is there hope for me?” became a frequent question.
A visit from Hsi and Fan, who came over as soon as they could to look after these young Christians, made an impression upon Liu that was never forgotten. It was the first time Hsi had been in their home; and he read the Scriptures and prayed with them, doing all in his power to strengthen their faith in Christ. At the close of his prayer, Liu followed; and then, to every one’s surprise, his wife prayed also, her heart overflowing with joy in the Lord. Hsi was astonished at the advance she had made in spiritual things, and exclaimed again and again: “Truly this is the grace of God!”
It was hard to bring the visit to a close; but finally Liu set out with his guests, to escort them some little distance on their journey. Before parting, they knelt together under the open sky, and Hsi once more commended this new believer to the care of God: and as he prayed he wept. This greatly puzzled Liu, who was full of gladness. But later on Hsi told him he had been moved to tears on his account; by overwhelming apprehension lest,
Finding his Life-Work 8i
through the wiles of the devil, he should be ensnared and led away from Christ.
A few days later, at the Refuge, Hsi preached a memorable sermon on soul -winning. Liu was present; and the conviction came to him that we are saved not for our own happiness merely, but that we may become saviours of others. This new inspiration he carried home to his wife, and together they began to think and pray about the people around them.
Feeling the need of help in bringing the Gospel to So-pu, they definitely asked the Lord to lead to Himself some one in the village who might become a fellow-worker. This petition was not long on their hearts before they were surprised by a visit from a neighbour with whom Liu had been on terms of open enmity.
It soon appeared that this man was thoroughly awakened. “You were once as heavy an opium-smoker as I am. How were you saved? And what can be done for me?”
With joy and thankfulness Liu told him of Jesus, and took him down to the Refuge at Fan-ts’uen. There he was cured of his opium-habit, and won to faith in Christ. Returning to So-pu, he also was fired with a longing to bring others to the Saviour, and having a large guest-hall, he threw it open for regular meetings. This was just what Liu and his wife had desired, and, greatly encouraged, they commenced Sunday services.
Later on Hsi came again, and started an Opium Refuge in the village, where it was much needed. The Lius were put in charge, and blessing soon
G resulted from their labours. This led to wider opportunities, and they became valued as faithful workers in several important spheres. Liu was for many years a deacon of the church, deservedly loved and respected,^ as well as one of Hsi’s most valued men.
His wife, when no longer able to work with him, through severe asthma and other illnesses, would not hear of his remaining at home on her account.
“No,” she said steadfastly, “feeble as I am, I would rather be alone for months together than hinder him in his work.”
Too aged and infirm at length to leave her room, she still gathered a few of the village women about her, teaching them to read and pray, and gladly welcomed to her home the preachers who came over to keep up the Sunday services.
Now that she is gone, her place is empty. That gentle, loving spirit is missed in So-pu, where no one yet has taken up her work.
Such Christians are the great need of China. Rescued themselves from heathenism, living in Chinese homes, understanding Chinese hearts, and
During the summer of 1900, when the Shan-si missionaries were enduring such terrible sufferings on account of the Boxer uprising, Deacon Liu was one of the native Christians who nobly stood by them, and risked his life repeatedly in aiding the escape of some who succeeded in fleeing from the province. “To these men,” wrote Mr. Dreyer, “who accompanied us on our hazardous journey (forty-five days), we owe a debt of gratitude we shall never be able to repay.”
Since then, it is sad to record, he has been led astray. Dissatisfied over some matters connected with the indemnity paid to the native Christians as compensation for their losses, he has left the Hung-tung church and joined the Roman Catholics. Will not all who read his story unite in earnest prayer for his restoration?
Finding his Life-Worfc 83
fired with love for souls for whom the Saviour died, they are among her best and most successful missionaries. One outcome, perhaps the chief outcome, of the work in which Hsi was now engaged, was the development of just such men and women.