How the Work Spread

On his return from the capital Hsi threw himself more ardently than ever into his well-loved work. All he had seen during his absence convinced him the more of the need and opportunities round him, and of the adaptability of opium refuge methods to the conditions prevailing in Southern Shan-si.

Fan was still on fire with love for souls; and the Refuge, full of patients, was more than able to defray expenses. From village to village interest continued to spread, as men of all ages returned to their homes cured of the terrible craving. The number of converts too was increasing, and as at So-pu, little light-centres were beginning to shine out in the darkness, through lives transformed by the power of Jesus.

Such work could not but develop. It was too good a thing not to be wanted; and the element of self-support made extension possible. Among the converts there were already some who were quite capable of carrying on little Refuges in country places, with help and supervision; and from neighbouring towns and hamlets the call was coming for just such work and men. All that was needed was some one to organise and be responsible for the Refuges, and men, more men, of the right spirit and training, to make them a success. Hsi saw the opportunity, and was burdened with longing to turn it to the best account.

“The work the Lord has given me to do,” he said, “is not so much that of a sower casting forth his seed, as that of a fisherman drawing in his net. Preaching the Gospel far and wide is like seed-sowing. Helping men, one by one, to break off opium and believe in Jesus is like catching fish.” And to this enterprise with skill and patience he devoted himself.

But not all seed sown falls into good ground; not all fish that come into the net are safely landed. Hsi was beginning to find that often the inquirers who seem most hopeful, and for whose salvation one has specially laboured, disappoint one at last.

And to such trials he was peculiarly open on account of the very nature of his work, which seemed to offer financial as well as spiritual attractions. The Refuges had to be made to pay their way, and if possible yield some small margin of profit. It was only by the greatest care and good management that this could be accomplished, especially in country places. But, seeing the success of some ol the older Refuges, people began to imagine that it was an easy way of turning an honest penny. They felt that the work was good and terribly needed, and concluded that in its prosecution they could enrich themselves while at the same time benefiting others. But what they did not see was all the prayer and loo Pastor Hsi

self-sacrifice, the labour, patience, and practical organising power behind the Fan-ts’uen effort. And yet these things alone, by the blessing of God, could ensure success.

Thus, very early, men with mixed motives began to give trouble, supposing they could make a gain of godliness. But even the anxiety that came upon him in this way was secondary to the sorrow caused by backslidings and divisions among the Christians. For these things Hsi had hardly been prepared. Difficulties of all sorts from without he expected, as part of the natural opposition of the devil; but grievous failure and dissensions within were heart-breaking indeed. Already he was learning to bear, in some measure, the apostolic burden: “the care of all the churches.”

Meanwhile the work grew rapidly, and inexperience might well have supposed that the Kingdom of God was about to be established in Southern Shan-si, And so indeed it was. But not without the ebb and flow that always accompany a rising tide, even in movements of a spiritual nature. Fifty to sixty men meeting regularly for worship at Fan’s village, and hundreds of more or less interested inquirers in other places, gave good ground for hopefulness about the future. As time went on, numbers of these men and women proved to be truly converted and taught of the Spirit; others again were found to have been influenced by purely natural causes, carried away for a time by superficial emotions. It was impossible at first to distinguish the tares among the wheat. Both had to grow together until the testing came that, sooner or

How the Work Spread loi

later, revealed the true nature of each one’s profession.

Has it not always been so, not excepting the life-experience of our Lord Himself? — at first many followers, eager attention, enthusiasm kindled by wonderful doings, bringing benefit of a material character apparent to all; a time of general ingathering: then, as the conditions of discipleship are better understood, a period of trial and elimination; “Many went back and walked no more with him “: but always a precious residuum left, the gold shining more brightly for the fires; “Ye are they which have continued with me in my temptations.”

This principle, so clearly taught in our Lord’s own parables, if rightly apprehended, will prove of great value in missionary service; steadying the soul against overwhelming discouragement, as one and another are found to be unstable, and the suggestion comes: “Alas, this cannot have been the work of God, or it would never have ended in failure such as this 1”

But is it really failure, or only a necessary stage in progress? No strength of Christian character can be obtained without discipline. For every man who will really follow Jesus, there is a cross. Some of whom we have had the brightest hopes are sure to fall away under these searching tests. But “He shall not fail nor be discouraged.” There is no need for disquietude and alarm.

In China, as at home, it is questionable kindness that seeks to prop up young Christians and shield them from every breath of temptation and trial, as though the Lord could not be trusted to deal with such tender plants. Far better let Him blow with His rough wind, if He sees fit. Storm and cold are needed, as well as sunshine. He knows best how to strengthen His own.

And those He has in training are sure to come out right at last. It does not really matter how ignorant and slow of heart, weak and faulty they may be, if only they are in His hand. Peter and the rest of His chosen friends, men who were to “turn the world upside down,” were just as human as we are; but with all their weaknesses, they were men upon whom the Holy Ghost could come.

These lessons Hsi was learning in the Refuges and village gatherings in which the Lord was using him at this time. He did not understand at first, and was almost heart-broken when quarrels and persecution arose, scattering hopeful little churches and causing the love of many to grow cold. But by degrees he came to see that “it must needs be that offences come,” and learned to possess his soul in patience, leaving to God the issues of His own work.

Among the scores of inquirers around him were not a few who had the essential quality, and could be developed into soul-winners by the blessing of God. These served to comfort Hsi for sleepless nights of prayer and all the tears and anguish caused by others who disappointed his hopes. And the Lord never failed to bring blessing out of even the saddest experiences. It often seemed as if the devil overreached himself. The work grew by its very diificulties, rooted all the more firmly in faith and prayer. And Hsi himself was learning through his failures. Each fall cast him more on God, and made him more distrustful of himself, and therefore stronger.

Thus the work and workers developed together, and evil was overcome of good, as may be seen from the following circumstances that occurred about this time.

Among the many patients cured at Fan-ts’uen were several men from the little village of Ts’aoseng, lying ten miles away to the north. These men while in the Refuge had learned a good deal of Christian truth, and had renounced idolatry, but without experiencing any real change of heart. On returning to their own village they were impressed by the number of opium-smokers, former acquaintances and others, who came to inquire about the wonderful treatment; evidently with the hope that something might be done for them. Instead of being moved to pity, the men, or most of them, saw in all this chiefly an opportunity for a profitable investment on their own account.

Why should they take these would-be patients to Fan-ts’uen, or send for Hsi to open a Refuge farther north? Had they not watched his methods, and learned to use the pills? They would pay Hsi well for the medicine, and start a Refuge on their own account, charging more highly than he did, and making sure of payment in advance. By selling the medicines to them direct Hsi would receive his money with far less trouble than by curing the men himself.

Thereupon seven of this little band set to work.

borrowed a considerable sum of money, and went down to Fan at the Refuge to purchase supplies. But Fan was not at liberty to sell the medicine. Hsi had to be personally applied to. And somehow, face to face with him, they did not feel quite so sure of their ground. Perceiving at once the danger and their real motives, Hsi sternly replied:

“How dare I regard this medicine, that the Lord is pleased to use for saving the souls of men, as a matter of trade and money-making. Were I to do this our work would no longer be prospered. The pills are not for sale at any price.”

This naturally made the impostors furious, and away they went to spread all sorts of calumnies about Hsi and his work. But not all the seven were impostors. Some, though misled, were true men, and, impressed by Hsi’s exhortations, they wished to remain under his influence and learn more. These two or three Hsi kept with him, and finally, seeing they were in earnest, he sent them to one of the Refuges for training. They developed well, and became established Christians. And when Hsi himself was led to open a proper Refuge at Ts’aoseng, he put them in charge, and his confidence was not misplaced.

The result was a remarkable movement in that neighbourhood. Numbers of men passed through the Refuge. Within the first year, over fifty people professed conversion, not a few of whom were received into the Church: and as from Fan’s village, the blessing spread to many surrounding places.

About two miles to the west lay the charming village of Pan-ta-li, from which one of the first and most promising of these inquirers came. Famous for its perennial spring, this quiet hamlet was unusually attractive. From a walled-in opening in the ground the water gushed forth in such abundance that even at its source it was almost deep enough to swim in. Clear and cool the stream flowed down the village street, bordered with drooping willows and spanned by the graceful arch of a moss-covered bridge. In this beautiful spot Chang was well known as a man of some influence, elderly and well-to-do, but — an opium-smoker.

Earlier in life he had fallen in with Romanists, and had nominally become a Christian, But he went on smoking opium just the same, and succeeding years only found him more deeply sunk in sin and misery. At length he heard of the Refuge at Ts’ao-seng, and went over to see what was happening. And there, at last, Chang really met the Saviour he had heard about so long. His chains were broken, his life transformed, and he went back to Pan-ta-li rejoicing.

But one great trouble remained. His wife was not a Christian. At times she seemed interested, and would go over to service at the Refuge. But she was bound by a tyranny more terrible than the vice that had so long enslaved her husband. Suffering from the malady that, though common, is always mentioned with bated breath, she was known throughout the neighbourhood as a demoniac.

After her husband’s conversion, this poor woman seemed to be worse than ever. The fits of frenzy were more frequent, and she would cry out as if in terror:

“I fear nothing and no one, save Pastor Hsi of the Western Chang village.” And this she repeated constantly.

The circumstance was peculiar, and attracted a good deal of attention in the district. Finally, Hsi heard of it, and was not a little troubled. Already he had found considerable difficulty in preventing the Christians from speaking of him as “Our Pastor,” a title he felt to be most unfortunate, and to which he had no claim. For at that time he was only an elder in the P’ing-yang church; and there were no ordained pastors in the province, except the missionaries. But try as he might, he could not wholly check the use of the term, and was open to a good deal of misunderstanding in consequence. And now the poor frenzied woman at Pan-ta-li would persist in crying:

“I fear nothing and no one but Pastor Hsi.”

At length, distressed on her account as well as his own, Hsi went over to the village, and was warmly welcomed by the Christian husband. A crowd gathered as usual in and around the house, to see what was going to happen. After putting the truth plainly before them, and committing the whole matter to God in prayer, Hsi laid his hands on the woman, and in the name of Jesus commanded the evil spirits to leave her and return no more.

From that moment the trouble ceased. Mrs. Chang became quiet and self-possessed. All the symptoms of her strange disorder passed away, and she was soon as earnest as her husband in seeking to bring others to the Saviour. The interest aroused by this circumstance, among neighbours and friends, was so great that the Changs soon found their guest-hall too small for the people who wished to attend the meetings. At their own expense they rented a house near at hand for the purposes of a Christian church, and before long twenty or thirty believers were meeting regularly in that mountain village, from whose changed lives and fearless testimony the blessing spread to other places.

But all was not smooth sailing at Pan-ta-li even in those early days. Dissensions among the Christians arose, here as elsewhere, and Hsi had to be sent for to put matters right. With the heart of a father toward his children, he always suffered keenly in their sins and failings. He felt them as his own. Instinctively the thought would come: if he had been more watchful, more prayerful, more instant in season and out of season in the care of these little churches, the trouble might never have arisen; and all the sorrow and dishonour to the Master’s name would have been spared.

On one occasion he was hurriedly called to Panta-li on account of a disturbance that threatened to prove serious. It was the depth of a cold northern winter, but he went at once. Wrapped in his fur-lined gown, he made the toilsome journey over those mountain roads, his heart heavy for the scenes he knew he was about to face.

Two brothers named Chang, both leaders among the Christians, had quarrelled over some trifling matter, and several of the others had become involved. As the dispute went on, neighbours and friends gathered round, until the excited crowd seemed to embrace the whole village. In the midst of this disgraceful scene, the younger Chang, transported with passion, seized a chopper that was lying close at hand and flung it at his brother’s head. The instrument was sharp and heavy, and the blow, if well directed, would doubtless have proved fatal. But missing its aim, the chopper struck another man, an inquirer named Koh, wounding him severely in the knee.

It was a dreadful moment, for murder had been intended, and the assailant was a younger brother. This added to the crime tenfold. And then poor Koh was seriously injured, and all his relatives involved. After the first breathless pause, of course the strife and altercation were more violent than ever. Nothing could be done to quiet the brothers, and the friends of the wounded man purposely aggravated the trouble. Then it was that, seriously alarmed, some of the Christians sent off a messenger to the Western Chang village.

Arrived at the scene of disturbance, Hsi found matters even worse than he had anticipated. The Changs were irreconcileable; Koh’s party, perceiving their advantage, were pressing outrageous demands for compensation; and worst of all, the cause of Christ was openly dishonoured before the heathen. Satan had triumphed; and there was no telling to what proportions the trouble might grow.

All eyes were turned on Hsi. What would he say? How would he handle the affair? Everything seemed to depend, just then, upon his skill and strength. In the midst of such an outbreak the wrong word would be a spark to gunpowder; while any sign of fear or Weakness must make matters worse, Hsi knew well enough the danger of the situation: old enmities and village feuds on the point of reawakening, and a lawsuit imminent, or perhaps several, with all the bribery and oppression involved. For one thing leads on to another in China, and the chain seems endless.

And more than this, he knew what lay behind it all; that such anger is, in terrible reality, giving place to the devil,^ against whose wiles he was powerless indeed.

And so the thing he did was just what no one expected. He simply walked away without a word, and left them. To upbraid or condemn would be useless. No appeal to reason or conscience would be tolerated at that moment. So just as he was, without food or rest, he sought a place, alone, where he could pray.

A considerable time elapsed before Hsi was seen again, and curiosity as to what he could be doing grew to almost suspense. And when he did appear the surprise of the crowd only increased. For instead of addressing the angry disputants, or attempting to pacify Koh’s relatives, he quietly made his way to the corner where the wounded man was sitting, neglected in the general excitement, and asked to be allowed to do something for his suffering limb.

This effectually changed the current of thought and feeling. And as Hsi dressed the wound with

‘Ephesians iv. 26, 27: “Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath; neither give place to the devil.”

It is noteworthy that a large proportion of alleged cases of demon-possession in China are directly traceable to such a commencement. Of those that have come under the personal observation of the writer, nearly all were said to have begun in some fit of anger or grief, lasting perhaps for days.

no Pastor Hsi

remedies he had provided, talking kindly with the patient meanwhile, even the onlookers could not but feel more or less in the wrong.

Then while still busy with Koh, Hsi began to express his deep sorrow for all that had happened, and the shame it was to himself and those present who called themselves Christians. By this time he had the sympathy of the crowd, and could say almost anything. Little by little he went on, still making himself one with the offenders, until he could speak more directly to the Christians, and lift the whole matter on to a different plane. Not against each other or their fellow-villagers only was this sin, but against the One who loved them best, and whom in their deepest hearts they truly loved. Then turning to the Changs he appealed to them on this ground, with humility and tenderness that would have been hard to resist. He spoke of the triumph of the great adversary, and of the sorrow of the heart of Christ whom they had crucified afresh, putting Him to an open shame. Earnestly he besought them both to acknowledge their wrong-doing, for each had been to blame, and ended by reminding them how much worse matters might have been had not God in His mercy intervened.

“Chang, younger brother,” he exclaimed, “go thank the Lord upon your knees for saving you from untold misery and remorse! Had not He turned that blow aside, your brother’s death might even now be at your door.”

“And as to Koh,” he continued, addressing the crowd, “he is indeed to be thanked. For, receiving in his own person the wound intended for another, he has prevented a greater injury, and probably averted the death of his friend.”

This was a new point of view, and approving glances were turned upon Koh, who began to assume the rdle of benefactor. His relatives, in spite of themselves, were disarmed. And meanwhile the Chang brothers had an opportunity to recover themselves. Appreciative comments followed Hsi’s exhortations, which appealed to Christian and heathen alike, and he was able finally to explain the true principles of the faith that had been so sadly misrepresented.

But Hsi went a step further than this. He knew that words, no matter how convincing, would never heal the breach nor mend the injured limb. Something more practical was needed. It was no use telling the Changs to make reparation, or exhorting the Kohs to be forgiving. They were not yet ready for this. Besides it is so much stronger to preach by example than precept only. “Come... follow me,” is still the most eloquent sermon.

Practical compensation had to be made, for Koh was disabled from work, and in a good deal of suffering. The relatives must be satisfied, and onlookers convinced that Christianity is right and honourable, not in word only. And most important of all, the Changs had to be fully reconciled, and the Christians made to feel that such sin could not be lightly passed over, and though forgiven, must entail suffering and loss.

Hsi had not come prepared for financial outlay. But he was not without resource. Leaving the village for a while, that his words might take effect, he went himself to the nearest pawnshop, and came back without his fur- lined gown. The loss was immediately noticed, for in the absence of his outer garment he was poorly clad for such wintry weather. But regardless of remonstrance, he handed a generous sum to Koh and his family, not as reparation, but in token of his sympathy and sorrow as a Christian for what had taken place.

Then with tears and great freedom of heart he besought the Changs to be at peace, and all the Christians to confess their sins to God with true repentance. To see him suffering for their fault was more than they could stand. The Changs were completely broken down. Love and unity were restored. And Hsi was able to put other wrong things right, and leave the little group of Christians stronger in some ways for the sad experience that might have had so different an ending. They could not make up to him what he had sacrificed, and were distressed to let him start on that long cold journey so unprotected. But he tried to comfort them, insisting:

“It is all right, and only my duty. God has called me to bear your burdens, and care for you as my own children. I must do it, because I love you, and have you in my heart, and cannot help it.”

From that time the work at Pan-ta-li flourished in quite a special way. The Christians drew together, and not a few were added to their number. Before long so many opium-smokers were applying for help that Hsi had to commence a Refuge in the village. This was made a blessing, and men saved there for this life and the next, carried the glad tidings to many distant places.

And the Chang brothers never went back. They grew in usefulness as years went on. The younger, the offender on this occasion, became a deacon, and the older first a deacon and then an elder in the church, and for some time laboured as a missionary a thousand miles away from home, in the most anti-foreign province in China.