Yet his had been the privilege to participate in joys that other fathers miss; he could not feel sorry for himself for long. That first smile had been showered all upon him, and when she took that first wobbly step, it had been into his arms that she had tumbled, giggling. Papa kissed the childish wounds, read the bedtime books, made her eat her vegetables, and told her stories about ships, about Scotland, about Jesus, and about her mother.
He had known more joy with Ruth than he had ever imagined possible on that black day when Hsi-chen had died. So many times since he had vividly recalled what she had once said to him: “I pray the day will come to you when the joy in staying surpasses any other joys you have known along the way.”
It had surely happened. For even aboard one of those magnificent ships he so loved, he had never felt such a fulfillment and satisfaction that fatherhood brought him.
This trip up the river with his now-nine-year-old daughter had proved one of his greatest thrills, both as a father and as a missionary. It was the first time he had taken her such a long way from home. While she was young, he himself had not traveled much outside the close environs of the mission district. For short jaunts he was often seen in the neighborhood toting her on his back in a pack his friend Kuo-hwa had fashioned for her. But by the age of five or six, her presence began to become gradually disturbing to the villagers. Part of the cause may have been due to her mixed heritage, but a far more likely cause was the simple fact that she was a girl.
By this time Robbie had grown accustomed to Chinese ways sufficiently to take no offense at them, nor to think it his duty to change them. But he still found them insufferable at times, especially when the men of the village began to seem uncomfortable in his presence, and when the women looked with chagrin upon the daughter he loved. He knew that a Chinese child is treated not much more different in its early years than children the rest of the world over. But he still found it hard to accept the change that came, especially in the case of Chinese girls, at about age five. With the beginning of the process of foot binding, a whole new era of life began, founded in a strict enforcement of segregation between the sexes. The once-free child was taught utter submissiveness and reserve, was kept close to home, and was rigidly disciplined in the customs and practices of an ancient culture that had scarcely changed in a thousand years.
Ruth was an obvious incongruity and Robbie would have it no other way. Out of respect for the villagers, he began to take her along with him less frequently. But he refused to keep her housebound, which would have been like trying to keep a captured butterfly healthy in a box. So, though he and Shan-fei and Miss Trumbull all had a hand in the girl’s education, during the remainder of the time she was allowed to run and roam and explore about the mission compound, and even along the near banks of the river. And by and by the local folk began to grow accustomed to the missionary’s daughter, even gradually permitting a different standard for her, probably in much the same way the older villagers had years previously with Hsi-chen, whose somewhat different status allowed her more latitude in their cautious eyes.
This latest overnight trip to several new villages had shown Robbie that acceptance at home did not necessarily mean a like reception abroad. Yet despite the difficulties and awkwardness, it had been grand to share even a small portion of his ministry with her. He had sensed a vibrant potential growing within her and hoped that his instincts were true which told him that she had much to offer the work of God. There was no compunction in his mind about her being a woman, even in China, for he had already seen how effectively women such as Miss Trumbull and other female missionaries he had met since could contribute to the overall evangelizing effort. It remained to be seen whether Ruth’s Oriental heritage would be an asset or a liability for her in her own land; overcoming deeply conservative Chinese attitudes toward women was difficult in any sphere, especially when it came to mission work where teaching and speaking were often involved. It was not unusual for activities accepted from a Western woman (they were barbarians, after all) to be looked upon with outrage from an Oriental.
The difficulties inherent in their peculiar position were never far from Robbie’s mind, yet they were not burdensome or oppressive. God’s purpose was evident in every aspect of their being here. If anything, Robbie was excited in the anticipation of seeing how that purpose would work itself out.
Suddenly Ruth jumped up from where she sat in the crook of her father’s arm. “Look!” she exclaimed, pointing eastward, “there’s the bend.”
“Aye,” replied Robbie. “We’ll be home just in time for dinner.”
Ruth leaned against the gunwale of the boat, and folding her arms in front of her, took on a pensive expression. When she finally spoke her words were earnest and well-considered.
“Thank you for letting me come with you, Papa,” she said.
“It was a pleasure to have your company, dear. I’m only sorry for the bit of trouble we encountered.”
“Will it mean I won’t be able to go with you again?”
“I don’t know,” answered Robbie thoughtfully. “I’ll discuss it with your grandfather. I want you to join me as often as possible, you do know that, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, I do,” she said.
“But your grandfather is still head of the mission and we must trust his wisdom.”
“Papa, why do some people become so upset when they hear about Jesus?”
“There are many reasons, little Chi-Yueh. I did myself when I was trying so hard to hang on to my old life. I could not realize what glorious things God had ready for me. I was even a little afraid. Most people are afraid of new things, Ruth. Even when they are better than the old ways.”
Robbie paused, then smiled as a pleasant memory came to him. “I stopped being afraid when the love of Jesus became a reality to me. Your mother helped me to see that—she had such a capacity to love and care for others.”
“And Mother helped you to give your life to the Lord, didn’t she?”
“Aye, she most certainly did!”
“I’m glad, Papa, for I don’t think I should like it much if I couldn’t talk to you about God.”
Robbie said nothing for a moment, touching his chin in thought as he considered his daughter’s statement. He had never thought of it in quite that way before. He continually acknowledged the gift Hsi-chen had left him in their daughter, but only now did he see that she had left Ruth a gift too—that of having a Christian father who could share the faith with her.
“I’m glad too, dear,” he replied. He held out his hand to her. She came to him and he hugged her lovingly.
59
Stormy Waters
Isaiah Wallace paced back and forth in the front room of the mission residence. It was late. Everyone but he and Robbie had already retired.
Robbie sat in a rocking chair silently watching the doctor, waiting for his response to his report of the excursion upriver. The grim look of intense deliberation on Wallace’s face had been unexpected, and Robbie wondered if the core of this reaction was the fact that Robbie had taken Ruth. Wallace had not been enthusiastic about the idea. But Robbie had followed his impulse rather than bow to his father-in-law’s experience of three decades in China, and at last the older man had relented.
Now Wallace stopped and turned to the younger man. Robbie recalled a similar moment ten years ago when the young man at the receiving end of the doctor’s remonstration had been Thomas Coombs. Robbie had been angry that day, for he had been able to perceive none of Isaiah Wallace’s fatherly concern. This time, however, he had no difficulty discerning the doctor’s love. It was clearly evident in his deep-set eyes, drooping with sadness, but alight with compassion.
“It makes no sense to dwell on what is past,” he finally said decisively.
“She wants to go with me next time.”
“And what will you tell her?”
Robbie sighed. He had hoped the decision would not rest fully upon him. “I was afraid when the mob crowded
around us,” he answered. “Thank God their abuse was only verbal. But I cringe when I recall all the debaucheries they accused me of. Ruth understands Chinese as well as I; only her childish innocence protected her from grasping what it was all about. I would never willingly put her in that position again. Yet she hungers after service, and to be part of the work of the mission. How long can I keep her from it?”
“She is but a child.”
“I have never pushed her,” said Robbie defensively.
“I know.” Isaiah’s reply was gentle.
“In so many ways she grasps the truths of the faith more deeply than I do. There has been so much for the Lord to clean away in my life. With her, He has a fresh, clean soul to work with. But I would never have taken her along if I had known something like that was going to happen.”
Wallace walked to a shelf and took down a sheet of paper, which he handed to Robbie.
“I’m afraid we are in for some stressful times,” he said. “This handbill came into my possession this morning along with some very disquieting news. There have been riots in Wuhu—only a hundred miles from here, Robert! Apparently some Chinese Sisters of Charity were accused of bewitching children. They were arrested, the Catholic mission was burned, even the British consulate was placed in danger for a time. These handbills are believed to be a major source of the trouble.”
Robbie looked at the paper in his hand. It was covered in Chinese characters that he had difficulty deciphering. The quality of the printing was also rather poor, as if many copies had been quickly produced. When he looked up once more at Wallace, his eyes were dark and his brow creased.
“Who would believe such nonsense?”
Yet even as he spoke, Robbie knew the answer to his own question. The people would believe what they wanted to believe, and where they might waver, the gentry and the literate, along with a good number of government officials, would use any method to convince them. They would never forget that the presence of Christian missionaries in China came as a result of the coercion of foreign powers. And the preceding decade had only served to lubricate the growing tensions and bitterness on the part of the hardest elements in Chinese society. As the European powers had carved up the continent of Africa, they were now greedily eyeing Asia. Already much of China’s buffer empire had been lost: Burma, Indo-China, and Tibet among them. And while disputes continued to rage over Mongolia, Turkestan, and Korea, past experience told the Chinese not to hope for much. It was scarcely any wonder, thought Robbie to himself, that the situation was so unstable, and that various missionary movements were at the core of the trouble. What could many of the local peasants think but that the missionaries—grouping the good in with the bad—were simply agents of the imperialistic designs of the foreign European governments?
Robbie shook his head at the handbill. It accused the missionaries of using drugs to possess the minds of the Chinese, of aborting infants from their mothers’ wombs, and even removing the eyes of the dead to make silver. Jesus himself was charged with all manner of debauchery and evil, and Christians were accused of worshiping a pig—no doubt a play on the word for Jesus, Yeh-su, which was similar to the word for hog. Such rumors had always circulated to a limited degree in areas penetrated by missions, but it seemed that they were now combining with current events to make them more readily accepted by an easily swayed public.
“We must brace ourselves for trouble,” said Wallace.
“I had hoped the minor disturbances last year were isolated incidents. I thought the year 1890 was a fluke and this year would open a new era of peace.”
“That,” Wallace nodded toward the handbill, “indicates that there is possibly a central force behind what is happening. If not a single individual or movement, then certainly a coordinated effort among a few. We’ve always been a bit off the beaten track from the trouble areas. But I’m afraid we will not be so immune this time.”
“We’ll have to remain close to the mission,” said Robbie, with resignation in his voice. Then he crumbled up the paper and tossed it across the room. “That’s just what these people want!”
Wallace cocked an eyebrow. “You’ll not do anything impulsive, will you, Robert?”
“I pray I’ve matured beyond that, but—”
Now it was Robbie’s turn to jump up and pace the room impatiently. “I cannot help being frustrated when we are viewed so wrongly, when the truths of God are muddled up by political rivalries and intrigues and lies. I know that many of the missionaries have asked for this by dabbling in politics and by forgetting what you have always told me—that we are here to change hearts, not cultures. But it makes it no easier to bear. God’s work is being compromised and stifled by all this.”
“A little persecution never hurt the work of Christ before,” said Wallace.
“Have you heard from Dr. Taylor? Has his work been affected?” asked Robbie.
“I have not had word from him for some time. So I don’t know. But I’m sure we all will be affected by these increasing riots.”
“I need to be reminded to pray more diligently for our brothers there.”
“And so must I,” agreed Wallace, then paused with a little shake of the head. “I was wrong before,” he resumed in a moment, “to warn you about impulsiveness. I’m afraid I let my concern for Ruth cloud my perceptions, should anything happen to you. I do not worry about you, Robert. The Lord’s mind is working in you. God has called us to proclaim His Word boldly, not to cower in our mission compound. I once told you, even risking the life of my own daughter, that the Lord would protect His people. Now I am forgetting my own advice. I am getting old, Robert, and my days of tramping in the wilderness are drawing to a close. But I should be working counter to the will of God if I should attempt to hold you back. I know how you long to take the gospel to the remote districts. I’ve seen your face light up when you hear reports from Thomas Coombs of the work being done in Hunan and Szechwan and other difficult regions.”
“You are not holding me back, Isaiah,” said Robbie, walking toward his father-in-law and placing a gentle hand on his mentor’s stooped shoulder.
“Perhaps you should not let Ruth hold you back either, if it is to such a thing the Lord is truly leading you.”
“The work here in Wukiang is established,” said Robbie. “In the last two years we’ve had at least a dozen converts who have come into the faith by the word of their Chinese Christian neighbors, not by our preaching. By the grace of God we have been allowed to see the greatest goal any mission can dream of—establishing an ongoing witness among the local people. Lately I have thought more and more about the many places where this still needs to be done. Yet I’ve wondered if this may not simply be my wandering nature beginning to goad me once again. I would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to Ruth because of my own selfish motives. Fatherhood will be my greatest call—at least for another ten years. That is my chief responsibility, and I can do nothing that will stand in the way of my being all the Lord would have me be to her.”
“I know you have committed this to our Father,” said Wallace. “Wait for His answer, then trust Ruth into His care. I respect you, for I know in all these areas your heart’s desire is to do nothing but what God would have you.”
“Thank you. I will follow your counsel. In the meantime, what do we do about our present situation?”
“We must conduct ourselves in the usual manner. I see no cause for any immediate changes.”
“What has been the reaction of the village folk to these handbills?”
“Apparently they’ve been circulating for some time, and no one has seen fit to mention anything until now. I believe most of the folk, even the non-Christians, realize the charges are ridiculous. They know us by this time, and that will hopefully count for much more in the end than these obviously trumped up and radical notions. There could be problems if outsiders come in. There are those in Wukiang, as you know, who could be stirred to trouble. We have seen such in the past. So
you should know there is a possibility of such an occurrence. The man who passed through here from Wuhu made mention of a name that gravely concerns me. It was rumored that one of the spearheaders of the riots was none other than our old adversary, Wang K’ung-wu.”
A sharp cold surge of forgotten emotion shot through Robbie at the sound of the name. All the years of healing suddenly seemed to flee from him, and he felt as though he could be consumed with hatred once more. In his mind’s eye he saw helpless Hsi-chen in the rough cruel hands of the villainous soldiers, and felt the sickening agony of his severed hand. And for the hundredth time he asked himself how God might have been able to rescue Hsi-chen had he depended on Him instead of the strength he thought he had on his own. Was it possible he would not have had to lose his hand if he had been willing to trust God sooner?
But the question was a futile one. He had discussed that very thing with Wallace many times over the years, and the older man’s wisdom had always been the same: “When we step outside God’s will, in that moment God is able, as it were, to restructure His will to incorporate into it even our disobedient actions. In the end, even our acts of selfishness are taken up and miraculously made part of His best for us. There are no what ifs? with God, because He turns everything into the best for those who are trusting Him. What God would have done had you joined us in prayer instead of following Hsi-chen up the mountain, I do not know. He would have delivered her, of that I am certain. How is a moot question. But when you did go, He then used your going as His means for her deliverance, even though He also used it to bring you face to face with your own need, through the loss of your hand.”
Robbie shook the memories from him, and closing his eyes, uttered a fervent prayer for peace in his heart, and for God’s love to fill him for this evil man.
Robbie Taggart Page 47