Even When it Rains
On Sunday afternoons a warmhearted Christian merchant usually spent some time on the street giving out gospel tracts. Feeling very tired one rainy Sunday afternoon, he stayed home to rest. On the desk lay a bundle of tracts.
He heard a stealthy step. Then the door was pushed open and his eleven-year-old son came in. Seeing his father there, the boy asked in surprise, “Why, Dad, aren’t you going out to distribute tracts today?”
“It’s raining too hard,” he lightly replied.
“Dad, when it’s raining, doesn’t God save people?”
The man was startled at such an awesome question. So he explained, “When it is raining hard there are few people on the street. Moreover, I am tired, so I’m not going out.”
“Dad, shall I go out for you?”
“Son, God bless you for your good intentions. When you are grown you may continue your father’s work.” As he rumpled the child’s hair the latter coaxed, “Let me go now!” His heart had been touched and he was keen to act.
“Son, it’s not convenient in this rain.”
“What does that matter if I wear my rubber boots and raincoat,” he asked?
Then, taking silence for consent, he ran out and was back in a moment in his rain clothes. “Dad, I’m ready. Please give me some tracts.”
Seeing his son’s eagerness, the father handed him a few, warning him to be careful and to return when he was through. In high spirits the boy started out to distribute the tracts.
In the downpour, the streets were nearly deserted. Only occasionally was he able to give away a tract. Darkness was coming on; the rain continued relentlessly. Finally, only one tract remained in his hand, but there wasn’t a person in sight to whom he might give it. He walked another block, but still he was the only one on the lonely street. What was he to do with this last tract?
“There’s a way,” he thought. “People don’t come to me, so why don’t I go to them?” With quick steps he approached the nearest house and knocked.
“Who’s there?” came a voice from within. His heart was thumping, half with fright, half with joy. He waited a moment, but as no one opened the door, he gathered up his courage and knocked again.
“Who’s knocking?” He kept it up until the door opened, and there stood an old woman whose distressed face was a sharp contrast to the eager one of the boy on the doorstep. With face wreathed in smiles, he said respectfully, “Lady, pardon me, but I’ve come especially to bring you the Gospel.” He placed the last tract in her hand.
The next Sunday evening the small street chapel was crowded as usual. The merchant was helping as an usher, and of course, his young son had come along. After songs and prayer, the gentleman at the pulpit asked if anyone wanted to share their testimony. An old woman with the light of Heaven on her face rose and voiced her praise.
“Thank God!” she exclaimed, “He sent an angel to save me. Otherwise, last Sunday night in my loneliness, poverty, and utter despair, I would have ended it all. It was pouring rain. I had reached the dregs of human suffering, having lost both husband and son. After a long struggle I gave way and started to hang myself. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I made no move, thinking to wait until the person had gone before taking my life. But the knocking continued until I had to open the door. There stood a boy with the face of spring, who gave me a gospel tract. As I looked at it, I knew that God had not forsaken me. I could not keep back the tears, but confessed my sins and asked for pardon. Praise the Lord, He saved me!”
The lad softly whispered in his father’s ear, “She’s the one!” Only then did the father know that God had sent his child to find a lost sheep by means of a tract!