The same unconscious ministry, again, is often a beautiful feature of the sickroom.
suffering may be finest service.
It is told of Dr. Norman Macleod that
on one occasion he went to pay a visit to a Sunday school scholar of his
He found him stretched upon a sorry bed, for the lad--an
invalid--was dying amid scenes of crime and destitution.
was not a great preacher; Norman Macleod was a great human.
over the bed he said, "My poor lad, I'm afraid you're very weak." "Yes,
sir," was the reply, "I'm very weak, but I'm strong in Him."
following Sunday, Dr. Macleod told that story from the pulpit.
published in religious newspapers both in England and America.
and by, from Scotland, England, and from far-off villages of the United
States, came testimonies that the story had been blessed.
Out in the
High Street other lads were serving, Men and women were toiling for the
Here in the garret, above the crowded street was a sufferer who
would never serve again.
Yet, like Paul and Silas in the dungeon, he
sang in his midnight because God was with him, and far away the other
I have heard women lamenting they were useless because
they could never leave their little room.
Others were out and active in
the world; they were nothing but cumberers of the ground.
And yet that
little chamber was a Bethel, and to enter it was to feel that GOD was
there, and through the streets one walked a better man because of that
patient beautiful endurance.
Never forget that among life's many
ministries, the freest may be the unconscious ministry.
There is an
exquisite service of passivity as surely as a service of activity.
the lights are low, when the strong ones bow themselves, when the silver
cord is at the point of breaking, you may be serving better than you
~George H. Morrison~