Chapter 32: “What Shall It Profit?”

ONE Saturday night, at the conclusion of a week’s meetings in an inland town of Brazil, as I shook hands with the departing congregation a rather elderly man drew me aside. It was the owner of the house where I preached, commonly called by the name of his profession, and I knew him as Senhor Antonio Dentista. His great friend was Senhor Joaquim A —, a wealthy rice miller.
Antonio had been interested in the Gospel from the day of our first meeting in the old Town Hall, but this was the first time he had betrayed emotion of any kind. In a rather shaky voice he said, “Senhor Frederico, I have listened carefully to all you have taught, and I believe it is true. Be quite frank with me, please. Say what there is wrong in my life. Tell me what I should do.”
In the homelands one would say at once, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,” but in Central Brazil where nearly every other man may be a murderer, or be living a very tangled domestic life, to put it mildly — and all this without any sense of sin — a wise preacher goes warily. Real repentance must be held up as the test of sincerity and faith.
“You have heard what has been said about repentance and the forgiveness of sins, Antonio,” I replied.
“Yes, yes; and I want you to tell me as a friend just what you have seen to be wrong,” said he.
“How can I tell you that, Antonio?” I rejoined. “I cannot see your heart. You know best what is wrong, and have heard what repentance involves”
“But tell me what you know — what you have observed,” he insisted.
I thought a moment, and then replied. “I have indeed noticed one bad thing. You are a terrible smoker! I notice that before each meeting has quite concluded you have a cigarette alight, and you seem to be always smoking.”
“That’s the pure truth,” he replied; “I have smoked since I was seven years old, and now I cannot get free from the habit. Very soon I shall be unfit to exercise my profession because of the tremor in my hands. It is impossible to give it up, for I have now reached the stage when I cannot even sleep without breaking the night with a cigarette or two. Why, only the other day I told my old friend Joaquim that I would gladly give fifty pounds to anybody who could deliver me from this vice, for it is ruining my health and future livelihood.”
Now, quite unknown to me at that time, this man had in his life something far worse than tobacco. It was a terribly tragic situation, from which God alone could deliver him. For very shame he hid this from me. It might mean the breaking up of his outwardly respectable home life. I could only deal with what I knew, however, so I replied, “Not impossible with God, Antonio. It is a small matter with Him if you really desire to be free.”
How very often we find that this question of tobacco becomes the touchstone by which alone one can gauge the sincerity of an outward profession of faith! In many parts of Brazil no man or woman who smokes is eligible for Church membership.
After some further talk with Antonio, showing him how clear God’s Word was on the whole question and not failing to make clear the far greater questions involved, we both knelt together and sought for definite forgiveness, and for salvation and deliverance from the power of Satan.
When we rose to our feet I advised Antonio to hand over to me all the tobacco, paper, and matches he might have in his pockets. This he did, and promised to go over his house at once, and make a clean sweep of everything of the kind into the fire.
Several days later I met my friend the dentist while walking down the main street. His eyes sparkled with excitement when he saw me. “Oh, it’s wonderful!” he exclaimed. “From that moment we had prayer together the other night all desire to smoke has left me. I felt a little giddy the first day, and my hands are always chasing round my pockets after cigarettes, but it’s mere mechanical habit, for the vice has left me.”
This happened nearly eighteen years ago. Antonio still alive, and has never smoked again. He quite enjoys telling of the day when God so miraculously answered prayer.
I would I could end the story here; but, alas! I must add that the old dentist is still an unsaved man.
When I knew of the more serious hindrance referred to I earnestly appealed to him to do his duty, and trust in God to deliver him yet again. He would certainly provide a way of escape, and ever turn all his trouble into blessing. But no; Antonio carries with him the proof of the power of the Gospel, yet will not trust in Christ for all.
From a higher plane than the poor dentist ever knew, and for higher and more holy motives, how well worth while it is to give up such an unnatural, enslaving vice for Christ’s sake! How very much of spiritual power, development, and perception may be lost by the paralyzing effect of this narcotic! What countless ills and ailments it brings in its train! And how much it may discount our good influence upon our children, our congregations, and upon the helpless multitudes around us Antonio’s friend, Joaquim, already referred to, was a young man greatly attracted by the Gospel at that time, and showed himself our friend too. Of a frank, honest disposition, he never disguised the fact that he lived to make money, and that to succeed he must be friendly with all.
Often when spoken to about the need of safety in Christ his face would flush; but just so often would he laugh off that first impression and abruptly change the subject of conversation, after lightly promising to attend the next meeting — a promise never kept. Yet we always thought him a hopeful case.
One day, soon after the foregoing incident of his friend the dentist, Joaquim set out on his fine, well-caparisoned horse to visit the nearest railway point, fifty miles off, expecting to be away a week. He carried a very large sum of money with him, tucked for security in the sides of his capacious riding boots. Late that night his rider less horse came galloping back to the town. His poor young wife and children were frantic with fear, and a large party set out to search for the missing man. Days afterward, drawn by the sight of a band of vultures to a remote spot far back from the highroad, his horror-stricken friends found his body already half consumed by the scavengers. He had been murdered for his wealth; yet strange to say his carefully-hidden money was found intact in his boots. He had saved his money — but what had he lost?