Kerry (15 page)

She established herself on deck in her steamer chair and picked up a little pamphlet that had drifted under it, lodged against the back legs of the chair and wedged itself where the wind could only flutter its leaves.

She looked around for a possible owner, but no one seemed in sight just then, and there was no name on the book. The title attracted her, and she opened the pages and almost at once was lost in its message. It was called “That Blessed Hope” and the very opening sentence revealed its subject as the same that McNair had spoken of, the Lord’s return.

Kerry was amazed. She had not known that there were any people anywhere who believed such a doctrine until she met McNair. That she should find this pamphlet at hand this way, right under her own chair, seemed nothing short of miraculous.

She forgot to watch the sea, forgot to draw deep breaths of the good salt air, forgot even to look up at the sunset that was royal in its colors, spreading purple and gold and scarlet with a lavish hand, and setting the sea on fire as it died into twilight like a burned-out hearth. She read on in this amazing little book, read promises quoted from the Bible. She wished she had a Bible here to look them up. She was glad she had put her father’s old Bible in her trunk. She wished she had a pencil to copy down some of these references, for perhaps the owner of the little book would come along pretty soon, and she would have to give it up. She read on hurriedly.

After the strange, wonderful promises the little book went on to state that the purpose of His coming was threefold. First, to
raise
the
dead in Christ!
What, raise them from the dead? Her heart sprang at the thought. Her father! Would he be that? He was a good man. Who were the dead in Christ? Oh, would that include him? How wonderful, if that were true, to see him coming with God’s Son! But could this all be possible? She had never heard such things before. People generally did not believe this surely, not even so-called Christians, or they never would live the way they did. No one could go on living for earth alone with a hope like that in his soul!

She read on eagerly in the dying light.

The second reason of His coming was to catch away all living believers, together with the raised dead! That was what the book said in bright italics. What could that mean? Who were all living believers? McNair must be one of course, for he had spoken as if he were expecting such an event, as if it belonged to him. Did he expect to be caught away? Would she by any chance have a right among that group? Oh, to be caught away to meet a Lord who included her beloved father among His own! There could be no greater heaven than that!

Her eyes filled with tears, so that between the dying light upon the silver sea, and her own tears she could barely make out that the next reason for His coming was to reward His own.

She laid the little book facedown upon her lap, brushed the tears away from her eyes, and suddenly saw McNair standing beside her, looking down with such a tender protective expression on his face that she almost cried out in her delight at seeing him.

“And so you have found my little lost book,” he said, dropping into the empty seat beside her. “It blew away yesterday morning while I was talking to someone, blew away from a pile of books and papers I had left lying on my chair, and I searched the deck for it in every direction, but could not find it.”

“Oh, I’m so glad it is yours,” said Kerry, “for now you will tell me what it all means!”

The young man smiled.

“I’ll be glad to,” he said. “Sorry I couldn’t have got around earlier, but it was the first chance I’ve had to talk with the steward since morning, and then I had to snatch a bite to eat, for all day deck tennis surely does make one hungry. What is it you do not understand?”

“Well, first, who are the dead in Christ? The book says that the Lord is coming to raise them to life, that that is the first purpose of His coming. I never heard of any such strange thing. Can really sane people believe that?”

“They do,” said McNair solemnly with a glad ring to his voice. “I believe it with all my heart myself, and I think I’m fairly sane. There has never been any attempt to put me in an asylum.”

Kerry laughed, and there was a glad little ring to her voice, too.

“I’m very glad,” she said shyly, “I’m glad you believe it, because then I shall feel safe in believing it, too. But it seemed too good to believe. Only, perhaps—perhaps it isn’t good after all. Who
are
the dead in Christ? What does that mean?”

“It means all those who died believing in Him—all who have accepted Him as their Savior.”

“Oh!” said Kerry in a puzzled way. “Oh, I—wonder—” And he thought he saw a sudden droop of her whole little figure as it sat there in the dimness of the first faint moonlight.

“What is the trouble—?” he said, and his voice was very tender. “Is it—is there—someone—?”

“Yes,” said Kerry tensely, “my father! I am wondering—will he be among those dead?”

With a great yearning upon him he sat forward in his chair and leaned nearer to her.

“Tell me about him,” he said gently. “Did he—believe? Did he—know the Lord?”

Kerry moved restlessly in her chair and threw up her chin with a gesture almost of despair and pleading.

“Oh, I don’t know! I think perhaps—but I know so little about it all. We never talked about these things. But listen! This morning I opened the sealed letter from my father that was to give me the last directions about his book, and I found—a personal letter—from him!”

“How precious that must have been to you,” said McNair sympathetically.

“I want you to read it!” said Kerry, brushing away a furtive tear in the darkness. “But it says strange things—things that he never talked about before. He’d asked for his Bible a couple of weeks before he died, an old Bible he kept on a high shelf, and he’d been reading it, kept it under his pillow those last days. In the letter he says that he thinks he began at the wrong end in his research, and that he should have begun with the viewpoint of the Bible. He directs me to go through his whole book and change anything that would not seem to be in accord with Bible statements, and he wishes a paragraph added suggesting that his fellow scientists should study nature from the viewpoint of the Bible. I’ve been making those changes all day.”

“How wonderful!” murmured McNair.

“But oh!” went on Kerry. “I begin to see that I know so little of the Bible. I’m not sure I’ve done it right. If I only had someone who knew the Bible, someone I could trust! Oh,” she exclaimed, “would you go over the changes I made and check them with the Bible? That will be wonderful, and I’ll feel so much better about it. I’ll know that what my father really wanted has been done right. His last words were these: ‘I am trusting in the old Book,’ and he signed his name to that as if it were a statement he wished to make before the world.”

“There! There you have your answer, my friend,” said McNair in a softly jubilant voice. “I think you can be sure that your father is among the dead in Christ. The old Book gives the plan of salvation and tells of Christ and the coming redemption from cover to cover. You need have no fear. And of course I’ll be glad to do all I can. I feel honored that you trust me to do it.”

“Oh!” breathed Kerry softly, and he could see that tears were glistening on her cheek.

Then after an instant she spoke again.

“But the little book tells another reason why He is coming again. It says that He is coming for the living believers. What is a living believer? Could I be among those?”

“You certainly could!” said McNair, and now his voice rang with a deep joy.

“What would I have to do?”

“Nothing. It has all been done for you. Your part is only to accept it.”

“But—I know nothing about it. How can I accept it? I do not understand.”

“You know that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, don’t you? You know that He died on the cross to take our sins, yours and mine and everybody’s, on Himself. If you are willing to accept that gift and put yourself under its protection you are a believer.”

“But how can I believe something that I have never looked into? How can I accept—?” Kerry turned her troubled eyes toward him in the darkness.

“Listen,” he said gently reaching out and laying his hand on her arm. “If I should offer you a cup of tea when you were hungry or thirsty would you have to draw back and say, ‘How can I drink that? How do I know it is tea? Perhaps it is some deadly poison. I must have it analyzed first!’ If you saw others drinking and being refreshed, could you not believe it was good for you also? Or if you were down there in that dark water below us, sinking, and I should throw you a rope, would you take it, or would you say ‘How do I know that is a rope? Perhaps it is only a strand of straw!’ Believing is an act of the will whereby you throw yourself upon something, whether you know it is able to bear you or not. Assurance comes when you find it bears you up, but you accept before you have had its strength proved. Do you know any other way to be saved?”

“Why—I have always supposed—I have always believed—that if you lived a good life—?” began Kerry.

“What was your authority for believing that anything you could do would save you?” he asked.

“Authority? Oh, doesn’t the Bible tell you you have to be good? Doesn’t it say that is the way to be saved?”

“No,” said McNair, “just the contrary. It says there is no other way given under heaven whereby we must be saved but to believe on the name of the only begotten Son of God.”

“Oh,” said Kerry again, dismayed, “I never thought much about it of course. I’ve read the Bible very little. But do you mean it is as simple as that, as taking hold of a rope when you are drowning?”

“Yes, as simple as that. Here are Jesus’ own words: ‘Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me
hath
everlasting life.’”

Kerry sat still with her hands clasped before her. They were hidden in a sheltered place where few people walked, and there was no one around. It was all very quiet as if they were shut in by the steady throbbing of the boat, and the regular dashing of the waves. Before them was the wide expanse of dark water and leaden sky. There was no moon, and the stars were all put out.

Suddenly she said, “Then I will believe. I will accept. But—what do I do next? Surely, there is something.”

“Nothing. It is all done for you. It is Christ’s finished work on Calvary. You take it as a gift, and then rejoice in it just as you would rejoice in a beautiful jewel if someone should give it to you. You can be just as sure of salvation as that. Safe. Forever more! And with the blessed hope that if He does not call you sooner, He will come sometime, soon perhaps, and that you will be among those for whom He comes, and will be caught up together with beloved dead who are His own, to meet the Lord in the air!”

“It is—very wonderful!” said Kerry wistfully.

There fell a sweet silence between them for an instant, and then McNair reached over and laid his hand on her hand that was resting now in her lap, and bowed his head near hers.

“Dear Father God,” he prayed, “bless this Thy child in her new life. Give her the peace and joy, and the sense of rest in Thee that belongs to those who are trusting in the death of Thy dear Son. We ask it in the name of Jesus.”

Kerry was very still as his words died away. She let her hand stay for the instant in the steady warm clasp that held it, and the air around them seemed holy with the new life she was entering.

“Do you mean,” she asked shyly, “that I—am counted—a child of God, now?”

“Yes,” he said, and his voice was vibrant with the triumph of it. “I am so very glad!”

She turned and looked in wonder at him, and her hand trembled in his for an instant more.

“Why—I am glad, too. I am sure I would never have found the way—but for you. It is all—so new and strange—!”

Then suddenly into their quiet talk there rolled the menace of thunder, and a lightning flash went round the world in dizzy blinding strokes and was gone, leaving deadly, threatening blackness.

“My dear!” he said, springing up and pulling her quickly to her feet as the first great drops of rain began to fall. “There is going to be a storm! We must get under cover at once! Strange! I didn’t hear it before, did you? Have you got all your things? Then come! Quick! It is coming fast. Let us run for it.”

Still holding her hand he opened his coat and drew it around her as well as he could, and so close together they ran for shelter.

Music and dancing were going on in the heart of the ship. People were laughing and talking, others were playing endless games of cards. Nobody was noticing them. They stood outside of it all for a moment and a great joy was upon them both. They were reluctant to come back to earth again and into the garish light.

“Shall we find a quiet place to sit?” said McNair, looking at the lovely flush on Kerry’s cheeks and noting the bright drops sparkling in the red-gold of her hair.

“What time is it?” She looked at her watch. “Oh no. There are too many people around and we could not talk. I don’t want this evening to be spoiled. I’ll go to my room now. But—I can never thank you for what you’ve done for me—!”

He turned and walked with her to the end of her corridor, and as he bade her good night said, “Wait! Here! I want you to have this. Perhaps you have not one of your own.”

He handed her a little soft Testament from his inner pocket.

“I always carry it with me,” he said, smiling.

“But you will miss it,” she said as she held it wondering in her hand, and sensed the smoothness of its leather covers, worn with use.

“I shall rejoice to have you have it, and to know you will read it,” he said with a smile she knew she never would forget.

T
here was no deck tennis the next morning, and many of the passengers remained in their beds. The storm that had burst so suddenly the night before had indeed been preparing for some time. The sun had unfurled her red banner of warning for all who understood the signs and the purple clouds had gathered quickly and faded. Lowering blue and steel and velvet black the waters were, and rose in frenzy. They lashed the ship as if it were a little toy, and boomed and tore like living maniacs.