Chapter III: A New Discovery

A COLD, cheerless November afternoon, and the day which had begun with fog was ending in rain; but it was Sunday, and so the doors of Jonas Jasper's shed were shut, and he at the farther end was sitting over his stove, which managed to throw an almost cheerful glow on the dismal surroundings. Perhaps he could hardly have told you why he "shut shop" on Sundays. Certainly it was from no thought of keeping holy the Sabbath day, for God and His law were nothing to Jonas; but it was a comfortable thing sometimes to shut the doors, and keep warm and quiet, and in his line of business there wasn't much doing. And then, too, when nobody was peering in and out, he could count over his savings, that were so slyly stowed away in that old pickle jar up in the corner. Not that they amounted to much; but still there was enough to keep Jonas from the workhouse yet a while, even if he "retired from business," as folk say. That was the one dread of his life—lest he should end his days as a pauper. But of the afterward of those days he never thought, or of the moment when pauper and prince alike should stand before God in judgment, to give an account, not of poverty or of riches, but of how they had treated the Lord Jesus Christ, whom God had sent to save sinners.

And so this afternoon, as usual, the money had been counted and added to, and the old man had smoked his pipe, and read his newspaper, and dozed for an hour or more, when he was roused up by a knocking at the door of his shed, and Rob's voice breaking the dismal silence.

"Please, Mr. Jasper, it's Rob."

"Oh, it's you, is it?" and making his way to the door, Jonas drew the bolt, and admitted his little, ragged, shivering, dripping visitor.

"Well, Rob, what's brought you round here? I thought you'd got a tea on at your mission place?"

"So we have, Mr. Jasper; but I've got something for you, and I wanted to bring it quick. See here!" and Rob displayed from under his little jacket (hardly big enough to be any protection) a nicely illuminated text, which his teacher had given him that afternoon for his old friend. "Isn't it beautiful, Mr. Jasper? Look at the flowers all painted so lovely, and the colours?"

Jasper smiled. "My old eyes won't hurry themselves," he said. "I can't see yet. We must have more light, I reckon; put a match to the lamp, Rob, and hand down my glasses. Now then, we'll have a look. What's it all about, eh? 'He careth for you.' Humph! It's very pretty to look at; but I don't see much meaning in it."

"But teacher said I was to tell you that 'He' is God, and 'you' is Mr. Jasper, and so you were to read it, 'God careth for Mr. Jasper;' and it's out of the Bible, and so it is quite true." Having delivered his gift and his message, Rob sat down and watched his old friend.

"Oh, that's what he says, is it? Well, Rob, I think different to that. I don't think God has ever cared much about me, or I about Him. I've gone on my own way, and never harmed anybody as I know of, so He's had no cause to interfere with me; and when my time comes to go, well, I must take my chance with the rest."

"But where shall you go when your 'time comes,' Mr. Jasper?"

Jonas was silent for a moment, and then answered, "I don't see as anybody can tell, Rob, so it's no use wasting time talking about it. Just fetch down the cups, and we'll have some tea; you look as though you'd be none the worse for it."

But there was a cloud on Rob's face. "I thought you'd like that card so much," he said, "and teacher hoped you'd put it up against your wall."

"So I will, Rob, and you shall fix it where you please, if you can find any room."

In an instant the child was on his feet, trying one place after another, and finally resting it on a strip of wood just opposite the old man's chair. "That's lovely," he said; "but oh my!"

"What's the matter, Rob?"

"Doesn't it make the wall look dirty?"

Jasper glanced up, and there, truly enough, the clean white card, with God's message upon it, made everything around look almost black in contrast.

"Dear me, Rob, I didn't know my old place was so dirty, and 'tisn't long ago I gave it a touch of whitewash. Seems to me the card and the place don't agree very well. Anyhow, 'tis pretty; and now we'll have our tea, such as 'tis. But you won't have any cake here, Rob, like you would have done at the Hall."

"I'd rather be with you, Mr. Jasper, and have no cake."

"Would you now?" and a glow of pleasure shot into the old man's heart at this childish test of love. "Do you care so much for me as all that, Rob?" As he said the words, his eyes fell once more upon the text, "He careth," the very word he used himself about Rob. What had he meant by it? Love, and a desire to be with him; and could it be that God had any such feelings towards him? "He, God, careth for you, Mr. Jasper," and it was in the Bible. That was the message Rob had brought. Well, the Bible was true, for certain; he had never doubted that. But this was a staggerer! That he, Jasper, as a man, was anything to God, seemed so utterly strange and new.

"'He,' 'you,' like as if there was only the two of us," he half muttered to himself; and then for some minutes there was silence, while the child ate his tea, and the old man, pretending to eat, was lost in thought.

"God don't care about me, or I about Him," he had said a few minutes before. But there, in front of him, was God's contradiction of half the words! True enough it was of him, that he had cared nothing for God all these long years; but perhaps God had cared for him! Loved him, liked to be with him! Ay, the lads had often told him that Jesus Christ was in that dark shed of his; but he had only laughed, although perhaps the words had not been utterly lost, and sometimes, when sitting alone, the thought of God's presence—there because everywhere—would come into his mind, and make him somewhat uneasy. But now a fresh idea had struck him. Was God in that shed of his because He loved him and liked to be with him? Nay, it could not be. And yet there, in the dim light and the silence (for Rob had fallen asleep in his warm corner), old Jonas sat and thought, and the words echoed and re-echoed, "careth for you."

Somehow that word seemed to mean so much just then. God takes an interest in you; God thinks of you; God loves you. And then a memory of long years ago flashed a new light upon the words, and he recalled how once, and only once, the strong love of his man's heart had been repulsed with the words, "But I don't care for you, Jonas." Even now the memory of that early love, refused, rejected, was deep in his heart. And could it be, though he had said to God, "I don't care for You," that God still loved him, and wanted him for His own?

"Well, I don't rightly understand it," he muttered; "but there's something comfortable about it anyhow, and maybe some time I'll know better what it means. Halloa, there's some one at the door. That must be Phil, for certain."

Phil it was, who, having stayed to the tea at the Mission Hall, came in to fetch his brother home.

"I wanted him to go back to you, and have a good feed, Phil," said Jasper; "but he was minded to stay here with me, and put up his card that he brought."

Phil glanced up at the wall. "It looks nice up there," he said. "Only—" and he hesitated.

"Only what, boy?"

"How it does show up the wall all round."

"Well, that's what Rob said; it's too clean for my place."

Phil was silent for a moment, and then sitting down, he said, in that queer, old-fashioned way of his, "I think that's what God's Word generally does, Mr. Jasper; it shows us up. Mr. Armstrong said the other day that we don't find out how filthy sin makes us until we see what God says about it in His Word. Every wrong thing we do or say leaves a stain upon us, and then, when we put our lives alongside of God's Word we find out how filthy we are; and so I was thinking, you didn't know how dirty your old wall was until Rob put up the clean text. And perhaps, Mr. Jasper—" and Phil hesitated, as though afraid of saying too much.

"Well, lad, what is it?"

"Perhaps, if you were to take down your old Bible and read it sometimes, you would find out how black you are, and then Jesus would wash you in His blood, and make you quite clean." Phil ceased, almost frightened at his own boldness.

But Jasper was not offended; so Phil took courage, and went on, "You see, Mr. Jasper, you've often told us you've never wronged anybody, or cursed like father does; but there's lots of other things are wrong, that leave their marks upon us, only you haven't found them out yet; and I was thinking you had better know all about it, because, you see, it would be dreadful to die, and find it out afterwards! Now, Rob, we must be off, or father will be angry. Good-night, Mr. Jasper."

Out into the cold and the darkness went the two boys, leaving their old friend in a strangely disturbed state of mind. Rob's message and Phil's were so different; the one comforting, the other arousing. Yet both were true; but Phil's was uppermost just now. Perhaps, after all, his life in God's sight wouldn't bear inspection. Nay, deep down in his heart he knew it wouldn't. God's Word (he used to read it long ago) would "show him up," and prove him a sinner; and once more his eyes fell upon the clean text that made all around look so soiled.

But yet the very God whose word would convince him of sin was the God that "cared" for him; and so, with strangely conflicting ideas the old man blew out his lamp, and ascending the ladder that led to his bedroom, soon forgot in sleep all that perplexed him.