A ROADSIDE MEETING

Otago Daily Times, Issue 24421, 5 October 1940, Page 8

A ROADSIDE MEETING

Written for the Otago Daily Times By the Rev. Gardner Miller There is a wonderful short story of just over 120 words tucked away in the New Testament which for shier thrills is matchless. You will find it if you turn up the seventh chapter of Luke and read from verse 11 to verse 15—just five verses, each one packed with human interest. It is the stqrv of a roadside meeting of two processions. One procession was leaving the city, the other entering it. The procession leaving the city was sad because it was going to the cemetery. The procession entering the city was happy and joyful and exicited because there was Someone with them Whose very presence chased away gloom. The two processions met. Any picture I have seen of this meeting has been woefully lacking in intensity. When 1 paint the picture in my own mind I feel excited. Just see Christ stepping over to the funeral procession and putting his hand on the shoulder o'f a widowed mother who was on the way to the burial of her only son! " Don't cry," He said. " Let Me help you." And then He turned to the still form and with words that went right through the gates of death called lie young man back to inhabit his body again. Nothing is said about the meeting of the young man and his mother, but you can imagine the questions and answers as they sat together at night time when friends and neighbours had all gone home and left them to themselves. The two processions met on the roadside, but the two became one, for there was now no need to proceed to the cemetery. We never read that Jesus and this widow woman and her son ever met again, but that does not matter much, for a bond of gratitude united them to Christ that nothing could sever. They would be members of that large company of people who shrank from publicity but never joined those who cried. " Crucify Him, crucify Him." Christ has always a great number of shy followers. As I stand on the roadside watching the happenings, the momentous happenings, when the procession of death is met by the procession of life. I feel that here is a parable of what is happening to many to-day. Alive, Yet Dead What I mean is that there are many ppople to-day attending their own funerals. Oh, yes. they are alive and busy, but all the same there is something in them that is dead. Paul speaks about being dead in trespasses and in sin, and that is a very serious condition to be in. But you can, in a sense, be dead without being as dead as Paul states. I mean you can be insensitive to many of the finer things of life without being conquered altogether by sin. For instance, there are many good folk who are insensitive to good manners and also to language that is clean. They have allowed themselves to become lax. and that laxity grows until they become unaware that their manners and language leave a great deal to be desired. There are many Christian people who are insensitive to the needs of broken men and women. They have become "dead" to the claims of brotherhood. I confess I have always been roused to anger at the complacency of many well-fed Christians to the crying needs around them. And how many " dead" people there are in our churches to-day—and not all, by any means, confined to the pews! They are decent folk, but they are absolutely " dead " to witnessing. How they can sing, for instance. "O. For a Thousand Tongues to Sing My Great Redeemer's Praise," and yet be absolutely unmoved by the tragic breakdown of the Church's influence on social life is something that moves me to wrath. I can think of hundreds of people I know personally whose homes are delightful, and whose lives are upright, but who are quite "dead" to spiritual things. For them I can only hope and pray that one day Christ will meet them on the road and speak that changing word that shall bring them out of their spiritual con. When Christ meets you Something Happens. There flashed into my mind this morning the names of two persons who were recalled from their " dead state by what seemed a chance meeting with Christ (although there is no such thing as chance). The first is that of a Roman Catholic woman. I did not know her and have never met her. One day she sent me a letter enclosing a donation for my work. She told me in the letter than she was leaving New Zealand that very night for another country, where she was entering a convent to become a nun of a very strict order, which would shut her out from all contact with the world. And then she told me why she wrote. Some time previously she had so far forgotten herself that she was in serious danger of being disgraced. (That's all I feel led to say about that part of her letter.) A friend of hers came to the rescue and. with love and sacrifice, brought her round so that she could face life decently-again. Now this friend herself, later on, had the most tragic happening in her own life and. as a consequence, drifted inio a] cynical way of living in regard to God and religion. One Sunday night she slipped into my service—and Christ met her. And because of some .kindness I had done to her later, in illness, this nun friend of hers felt impelled to write me and send a donation towards my wcrk. Both these young women had become "dead" to spiritual things, but Christ- met one through the goodness of a friend-and He met the other when she slipped into a vacant seat at the back and spoke to her through the message given. Yes, something happens when Christ meets you on the road. The ether incident was that of a man who, a few days ago, asked for an appointment. At one time he had been an officer in a well-known church. Adversity came and he neglected what used to be his solace and strength. His home was broken, friends left him, and he sank deeper and deeper until, through' drink and careless living, he touched bottom. (What that was is his own heartache.) He came to Christchurch and one Sunday morning, penniless and friendless "something" (to use his own expression) told him to come to my evening service He came—and Christ met him. For two days he struggled against "giving in,to Christ," but finally he felt he must "talk it out" with me and so he phoned for an appointment. He left my room in the heart of the city with a new step and a new hope, for he left with Christ. He who had been "dead" was alive again. Yes, Christ walks along many roads meeting all kinds cf people, especially those who are attending their own funerals. When life meets death, life wins—it must. The miracles of changed lives are still occurring.