BY THE REV. JOHN TALLACH, SOUTH AFRICA.
THESE words which form the heading of this article will be found in Deut. xxxiii. 19. After a perusal of some of the older missionary records these words came with frequent recurrence to my mind. Whatever is the exact prophetic import of them I do not presume to understand, but it is clear that they very aptly interpret many phases of Christian experience. A great number of God’s mighty works lie as hidden treasures under the sands of oblivion in the plains of time. The treasure fields are divided according to time, place and manner of these works. We, for the present, are to visit these fields, which are peculiarly connected with missionary activity. I do not pretend that those which I have found are among the finest of His treasures in this field, but believing that they all bear the hall-mark of the King, I, also, believe that He would desire better for them than that they should remain hidden. Others who have read of them may already have dug them up for themselves and rejoiced over them. To these we offer a new joy by exhibiting these treasures to those who have not seen them.
Lately diamonds have been discovered on a certain farm in South Africa, and great numbers of people came along to peg their claims. The area upon which they were to dig for their treasures was, of course, a well-defined one. But when we go to seek our treasures we find our marches are as far flung in time as the Apostles’ days, and in space as far as the ends of the earth. We are at a pause where to begin.
Let us go West to the North American Indians, and of their many tribes let us pay a visit to the Cree tribe. We are writing of an occasion memorable to it, because memorable to its great chief, Mackepltoon. With all Indians anything approaching forgiveness was a vice, as all revenge was a virtue, and “he of the crooked arm” (for this is the meaning of the chief’s name) excelled and gloried in this heathenish virtue. In fact, the frequent pursuit of this virtue had brought so many wounds upon his arm that it was now crooked. The loving appeals of the Gospel were not without some fruit among his tribe, but up to this time the Chief had resisted it with stony indifference. There came a night when an itinerant missionary, lighting on his camp, preached to the Chief and his people. In course of reading God’s Word, the preacher paused to remark on the words, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” He faced up to their outstanding sin—revenge, and plainly told them that one of the conditions of God’s forgiveness is that people must forgive those who offend them. The meeting closed. To all appearance the good seed had fallen without any reception.
Next day the Chief and hundreds of his warriors set off across the prairie, and the missionary followed. As yet the errand of the party was unknown to him. He was not long left in the dark, however. Some time prior to this the Chief desired to bring home some horses which were feeding at some distant pasturage, and he put this work in the hands of his only son. One of the Chief’s braves was sent as companion with the lad. The horses were gathered, but, the man getting an offer to sell the horses, succumbed to the temptation. He sold the horses, murdered the Chief’s son, and returned to the Chief with the story that the lad had lost his life by falling over a precipice, and that the horses were scattered. There was nothing to discredit the story, and for a time it was accepted. But a witness later reported the truth, and the murderer had to flee from the wrath of Mackepltoon. For many months the disappointed Chief nursed his revenge. The dearest thing to his heart, now that his son was no more, was revenge upon his murderer. He loved the thought of revenge, he loved the plans he had formed to accomplish it, he lovingly waited an opportunity to put these into execution. At length the murderer had been sighted, and an awful retribution was the sole occasion of the Chief’s riding forth this morning. All this was told to the missionary in the hope that he would not follow. But he rode on, and while we can only surmise what his thoughts and feelings were, we can be sure that his heart prayed to the Prince of Peace that He of His power would avert the approaching tragedy.
As the two parties drew near, the outward appearance of the Chief gave evidence of the tremendous fire which burned within, but throwing a momentary command over his trembling frame, he steadied himself, drew his tomahawk, and singling out the traitor, he rode straight for him. The rest of the party hung back in tense expectancy, which soon gave place to whispers of surprise. When within speaking distance of the murderer, the Chief was seen to rein in his horse, and to the astonishment of all he began to address the wrong-doer. At some point an emotion other than revenge had taken hold of him, and the voice of that emotion now spoke as follows:—
“You have killed my son and you deserve to die. I trusted you as his companion, I honoured you as his comrade; you have betrayed that trust and cruelly murdered my only boy. No greater injury could you have done to me and to my tribe. You have not only broken my heart, but you have killed him who was to be my successor. You deserve to die by all the laws of the tribe, but I heard last night from the missionary that if we expect the Great Spirit to forgive us our sins we must forgive our enemies, even those who have done most against us, and but for this I would have buried my tomahawk in your brains at this moment. But as I hope to get forgiveness I forgive you. Go away from my sight and never let me see you again.” Having said this he could no longer restrain himself. His torn heart became a fountain of tears.
Now, there is no doubt but that a large element of legalism entered into this act of forgiveness, but the work of the Holy Spirit did not stop there. This was the first time in his whole life in which the Word of God flung its authority against the desires of his heart. In calling His elect, the most High often begins His work by driving His sword into the very heart of some outstanding sin. This was the case here. The Word of God continued to influence his heart. He increased in knowledge, got genuine Gospel liberty; learned to read the Bible in his own language; gave up warlike habits, preached the Gospel to his people, and was rewarded by seeing a work of the Spirit among them. The close of his life points to the oft-repeated truth, that a Christian is often most tried in the very grace in which he appears strongest. When he forgave his enemy at the beginning of his Christian course, he placed his foot on the doorstep of the Kingdom of Grace; by the forgiveness of another enemy he was lifted into the Kingdom of Glory. He died for the sake of the Gospel. Unarmed except for the sword of the Spirit, the Word of God, he went to preach the Gospel to his life-long enemy, the Chief of the Blackfeet tribe. He had no reason to expect anything from this Chief other than the revenge which his own heart used to meditate. He knew his danger, but his heart burned with love for his old enemy. His love for revenge was quenched in the depths of Christ’s love. That love now moved him, and he followed. He went to his death; for no sooner did he appear, before he was permitted to utter one word, he was shot dead by this Chief.
One might be pardoned if one desired to comment on this incident; but it is far better to leave it as it is. Only let me say this much: Surely the record of the Holy Spirit’s power as it reached Mackepltoon on horseback and continued with him until his lifeless body fell at the feet of the person he so much desired to help, is a record worthy of a place in our own and our children’s memories. Let us tenderly lift this treasure out of the sand and joyfully inscribe it with—”This is the doing of the Lord, and wondrous in our eyes.”