IN THE dawn of the English Reformation, when the Great Bible, which had just been translated, stood on its desk chained to a pillar in the cathedral, the people gathered in throngs, and stood on the cold stone floor listening intently hour after hour to the one appointed to read it to the people. If he should pause as though to stop there would be cries of "Read on, read on." What a wonder it would be if we had a thirst like that for the living waters of God's Word. What a difference it would make in our lives. Tradition has dug for God's Word many a grave; intolerance has lighted for it many a fagot; many a Judas has betrayed it; many a Peter has denied it; many a Demas has forsaken it, but it still survives as the only authoritative voice of God to men.
I'm editing a new book on the life of James Chalmers, missionary to New Guinea in the last century. They called Chalmers, Tamate, man of peace. On one of his inland trips where cannibalism was rife, he came at the end of one day to a large village where the chief asked him to come to the dubu, a house where the young warriors of the tribe lived, and speak to them.
Chalmers was very weary, but he went into the dubu, accompanied by a Port Moresby native interpreter, who had been converted to the gospel. He was surrounded by scores of naked savages, decorated with shells, seeds, and the human bones of enemies they had eaten. Chalmers talked only briefly and then asked his converted interpreter to tell them stories from the Bible. He himself went to lie down on the porch outside the evil-smelling place, for he was exhausted.
The sun was well up the next morning when he awoke, and not seeing activity about he peered into the dubu. It looked as though not a single savage had changed his position. And Asuba, his interpreter, was still telling stories, as he had been all night. His hearers sat in rapt attention and heard for the first time the stories of Adam and Noah and the Flood, of Abraham and the children of Israel, and the miracles.
Chalmers thought Asuba must be dead tired and suggested he try to get some rest. But with the light of triumph in his eyes, he said, "No, please, masta. Me come now to story belong Jesus, and Him the best story."
And there in the steaming New Guinea jungle the primitive hearts of cannibal savages were subdued with the story of the cross. Oh, how I wish that the "story belong Jesus" would so capture our minds and hearts, so fortify our faith, and so humble our proud self-sufficiency that lost in wonder, love, and praise we would be implemented for the fulfillment of Revelation 18:1.
I grieve because so much of our Biblical research seems to be a program of negation of much that we have always held dear. A study of the Bible for its historicity instead of an oracle from God may rob us of its preciousness as indeed God's voice speaking to men. I read from Patriarchs and Prophets, page 504: "Every chapter and every verse of the Bible is a communication from God to men. ... If studied and obeyed, it would lead God's people, as the Israelites were led, by the pillar of cloud by day, and by the pillar of fire by night." From Testimonies, volume 5, page 533 we read: "Do we receive the Bible as 'the oracle of God'? It is as really a divine communication as though its words came to us in an audible voice."
Our eight-year-old granddaughter said not long ago to Mrs. Tippett: "Grandma, I wish I could see and talk to an angel." And her eyes shone with the wonder of a child's in happy anticipation. And we said, "Yes, dear, and we'd love to see one too." But I have had several thrilling experiences in which through God's Word I have felt in communication with angels.
I think of the day out there on the edge of the Flathead Indian reservation in Montana one Friday morning when I was puzzled as to whether I should ride up into a very sparsely settled side valley, for the distances between the homes seemed very great, and I was due to catch the train back to Missoula at two o'clock for my weekend rest.
That was a time when I wished I might talk to an angel for wisdom. But I had my little Testament with me, and I always like to pray before I read my Bible, because then if God has anything to say to me He can talk to me through His Word.
So I prayed for guidance and opened my Testament at random, and I think an angel must have opened it for me, for the first statement my eye caught was 1 Timothy 2:3, 4: "For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour; who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth." That was all I needed to read. I mounted my bicycle, and headed for the only house I could see, a half mile away. In the next four hours I had my biggest and most successful day in canvassing.
To be sure, I took that bit of scripture right out of its context, which according to the scholars I shouldn't do. And I engaged in the most shameless bit of casuistry in letting my Bible fall open where it would. And I did rude disservice to proper Bible study by accepting a simple text as the word of God to me for that hour. But, granting all these things, like Jacob, I look back upon the event as a sort of Bethel and know in my heart God blessed me there.
I have had other experiences where certain texts of the Bible with no logical relation to a situation in which I found myself have nevertheless seemed to afford the very comfort I needed at that hour.
Accepting texts like that out of all keeping with their setting is not Bible study, friends, but it accentuates the fact that God, the all-knowing One, is a very present help in time of trouble, and that the Word is adequate for every situation. If God could speak to Gideon with a handful of fleece, He can speak personally to the believing heart through His Word.
Wide as the world is His command,
Vast as Eternity His love;
Firm as a rock His truth shall stand,
When rolling years shall cease to move.
