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Sofie vaskekone - kaldet til at vaske og prædike

SKRIV DEN UD OG GLÆD DIG OVER SOFIES ENFOLDIGHED I SIN TRO. .

af A. B. Simpson
1.

"Undskyld hr., der er en kone ved døren, hun vil gerne tale med Dem. Hun siger, hun hedder Sofie og er prædikant. Hun er tysker. Jeg tænker, hun er ikke rigtig i hovedet, hun ser noget løjerlig ud." I forstuen traf jeg så den "løjerlige kone." Hun fortjente virkelig den betegnelse. Hun var høj og mager med fremstående kindben og strålende øjne. Hendes hat var lovlig stor og rigelig udstyret med ildrøde blomster. Over sin gammeldags påklædning havde hun en sort silkekåbe, som i fordums tid måtte have været højest elegant. Med den grønne parasol i hånden gjorde hun virkelig et pudsigt indtryk.

Da jeg nærmede mig, smilte hun mig i møde over hele hovedet. Med stærkt tysk tonefald udbrød hun: "Å, broder, endelig har jeg fundet Dem. I går hørte jeg Dem tale om Deres missionsarbejde. Og med det samme sagde jeg til Herren: "Fader, jeg må tale med den broder."

"Sofie," sagde han så til mig i dag, "i går tjente du jo en halv dollar, gå hen med den til den broder, og lad ham høre dig prædike!"

"Ja, Fader," svarede jeg så, "men jeg har ingen prædiken."

"Gå på dine ben," sagde han så, "for at du desuden kan give sporvognspengene, undervejs vil jeg så give dig prædiken."

"Her er jeg, og værsgo, her er pengene."

Hvad skulle jeg tænke om hende? Næsten en times gang havde hun haft for at overrække mig sin dagløn til mit missionsarbejde. Jeg havde følelsen af, at dersom hendes prædiken stod på højde med hendes gerning, ville det blive en glæde at høre den, og jeg bød hende indenfor.

Ja, tak, det ville hun gerne, og smilet på hendes ansigt var stadig det samme. Idet jeg iagttog hende, fik jeg indtryk af, at det vidnede om en stor indre ro. Det gav hendes ellers ikke videre tiltalende ansigt et præg af hellig glæde, som vakte min opmærksomhed.

"Ja, jeg er kaldet til at vaske og at prædike. Jeg er den fødte prædikant, og eftersom jeg er fattig, har jeg lært at bestille noget. Jeg arbejder godt, og folk kan stole på mig, så mange vil gerne have mig. Men sammen med mit arbejde må de også høre mine prædikener. Ikke noget arbejde uden prædiken.

De vil måske gerne vide, hvilket samfund jeg slutter mig til? Jeg tilhører vor Herre Jesus, og jeg stoler i et og alt på Gud. Han er det bedste arbejdsanvisningskontor. Det koster ingenting, og man behøver ikke at vente. Han sender en på arbejde med det samme.

De spørger om min familie.

Vi er fire, nemlig: Fader, Søn og Helligånd - og mig.

Engang havde jeg sparet 300 dollars sammen. En slubbert opdagede det og overtalte mig til at gifte mig med ham. Jeg var dum nok til at gå med på det. I løbet af to uger havde han fået fingre i de 300 dollars og forsvandt med dem. Men jeg mener nu, jeg er sluppet billigt af med ham. Jeg havde ringeagtet budet: "Træk ikke i ulige åg med de vantro." (2. Kor. 6,14). Jesus siger: "Tag mit åg på jer" (Matt. 11,2-9). Man skal ikke give Djævelen lov til at sætte sig ved siden af en. Så er man ilde faren. Dengang forførte han mig til at tage helvedestoget. Men første gang det holdt, steg jeg af. Jeg har aldrig gået i skole. Den tid, jeg var gift, var min privatskole. Den varede tre uger. Skolepengene var 300 dollars.

"Hvad vil du gøre, når jeg er væk?" spurgte min mand. "Gå du kun!" svarede jeg. "Jeg levede, før jeg kendte dig, jeg lever i tro."

Siden har jeg aldrig set ham. Vil Gud endda frelse ham! Jeg gjorde min pligt og prædikede for ham. Jeg har ikke noget ønske om at se ham igen, medmindre han er blevet omvendt. Men nu ved jeg, hvordan jeg skal tale med kvinder, som er forladt af deres mænd. Det har jeg i hvert fald lært."

2.

"Jeg ville slippe for vasketøjet og finde andet arbejde. Men det gik ikke. Mester sagde til mig: "Hvis De ikke bliver noget kvikkere til det her arbejde, så gjorde De bedre i at drukne Dem."

"Nej, nej," svarede jeg, "jeg ved noget bedre end at kaste mig i havet. Jeg vil kaste mig i Jesus kærligheds arme."

Derefter kom jeg i tjeneste hos en præstefamilie. Jeg kan godt sige med sandhed, det var en prøvelse.

Ja, broder, man vil gøre noget for drankere. Med de troende skulle man begynde, det var det rette. Der er så mange triste kristne - "Kirkegårdskristne" kalder jeg dem. De sidder på gravene, klynker og græder og kommer aldrig ind i livet med den opstandne Kristus. Vi tilbeder ikke en død frelser, men en opstanden frelser. Og dog bliver så mange stående ved korset og er tilfreds med, at deres synder er forladt, i stedet for at gå ind i livs samfund med den opstandne herre. Nå, sådan var det netop hos den her præst. Herren brugte mig til at vejlede ham til lyset. En dag sagde han til mig: "Sofie, hvordan skal jeg bære mig ad med at få samme kraft i mine prædikener, som De har ved møderne?"

Jo, det er meget lige til," svarede jeg, "De studerede en hel uge på Deres prædiken. Gennemlev hellere i forvejen, hvad De tænker Dem at prædike, så sigter De dybere, så skal De nok ramme nogen. Deres prædikener preller af mod væggen, De sigter altid for højt!"

"Sofie, hos Dem flyder det altid over, hos mig står det så fattigt og kummerligt til."

"Det er Deres egen fejl. Bordet står dækket, tag for Dem af retterne!"

"Å, Sofie, gid jeg havde Deres udholdenhed og Deres ydmyghed. Men mine nerver er i den grad i uorden, at jeg snart går helt fra forstanden."

"Ja, jeg har ingen at låne Dem, og på apoteket kan De ikke købe nogen. Men hvis De læser Det ny Testamente rigtigt, så får De bestemt, hvad De mangler."

"Hvordan mener De? Jeg læser det jo rigtigt nok, på græsk og på tysk."

"Nej, broder, De læser det ikke ret. Broder Paulus siger: Vi priser os også lykkelige over vore trængsler. Prise sig lykkelig betyder ikke at klage og jamre. Trænger De til udholdenhed, så må De prise Dem lykkelig over Deres trængsler. Paulus siger jo: Trængslen virker udholdenhed, og udholdenhed prøvet fasthed, og den prøvede fasthed håb, og håbet gør ikke til skamme (Rom. 5,3-5). Prøv nu, hvordan De kan komme op ad de trin til en større tryghed, når De vel at mærke begynder fra neden og priser Dem lykkelig i stedet for at jamre! Og hvad ydmyghed angår, så siger Peter: Ifør jer ydmyghed. (1. Peter 5,5). Den kan man ikke få i herremagasinet. Den artikel fører de ikke. Men i stedet for at misunde mig, skal De henvende Dem til vor fader i himlen og bede ham om en ydmyghedsklædning. Han bønhører Dem, hos ham er der ingen personanseelse."

"Ja, men, Sofie, hvad tøj angår, er jeg meget jævn, hvorimod De er elegant påklædt. Hvordan kan De tillade Dem det som vaskekone?"

"Mit tøj koster mig slet intet! Jeg gør rent hos damer, der forærer mig deres tøj. Hvorfor skulle jeg ikke være velklædt? Jeg er konge-datter, og Gud er ikke nogen kludehandler! Han lover os en klædning, der varer. Når jeg trænger til noget, siger jeg: "Fader, jeg har brug for det og det." Og er det godt for mig, så giver han mig det. Men tit og ofte siger min fader til mig: "Sofie, det duer ikke for dig. Man giver ikke børn alt, hvad de græder for." Vi beder om så meget tosset. Hvis fik det, vidste vi slet ikke, hvad vi skulle stille op med det."

Jeg har hørt om en mand, der kom til en by for første gang. Han gik ind i en beværtning og sagde til sig selv, at nu ville han unde sig noget godt, lige meget hvad det kostede. Han så en herre i nærheden, der tog noget sennep på tallerkenen, og tænkte, det måtte bestemt være særdeles godt og dyrt, siden vedkommende stak så småt til det. Og lige meget, hvor dyrt det er, tænkte han, jeg vil have det. Så bestilte han hos tjeneren for en hel dollar, og han fik en tallerkenfuld stillet foran sig. Han tog en skefuld, brændte sig på tungen, spyttede det ud - og siden spiste han aldrig mere sennep!

Sådan forlanger vi også mangt og meget, som vi ville have skade af, hvis vores fader gav os det, og vi ville hurtigt blive lede ved det. Vi beder nemlig uden forstand. I tolv år bad jeg: "Fader, lad mig blive missionær i fremmede lande. Jeg vil så gerne bringe evangeliet til hedningerne."

En dag, jeg igen bad min Fader om det, sagde han til mig: "Sofie, hold op med det! Hvor er du født?" "I Tyskland, Fader."
"Og hvor er du nu?"
"I Amerika."
"Nå, ja, men er du så ikke allerede missionær i et fremmed land?"
"Jo, Fader."
"Hvem bor oven over dig?"
"En svensk familie."
"Og oven over dem?"
"Jeg tror, de er svejtsere. I næste hus er der italienere, og længere henne kinesere." "Og alle disse mennesker har du aldrig talt med om min søn. Tror du, jeg vil sende dig tusinder af kilometer væk, når du ikke bekymrer dig for de hedninger, der bor omkring dig, og aldrig har talt med dem om deres sjæles frelse."

3.

"Så tog jeg snart fat på arbejdet, og jeg har opdaget, at når vi gør, hvad der ligger lige for, så giver Gud os opgaver videre ud. Jeg havde sparet noget sammen. Så hørte jeg en sige, at hvis jeg gav nogle dollar, så kunne en dreng i Japan komme til at gå i skole. Jeg gjorde det, og nu er han missionær i sit hjemland. Engang hørte jeg tale om negrene i sydstaterne. "Så, Sofie," sagde Fader til mig, "du kan sikkert gøre noget for dem." Men jeg var stadig gerrig og klamrede mig til en halv dollar, så ørnen, der er afbildet på den, kunne have haft grund til at skrige om nåde. Jeg kom i uro og troede at høre Faders stemme: "Alt, hvad du har, er fra mig, og du vægrer dig ved at give mig noget af det tilbage?"

Uroen tog til, indtil jeg gik hen til præsten og gav ham, hvad der behøvedes til uddannelse af en lærerinde for negrene i syden. På den måde prædiker jeg nu i Japan, i syden og i New York, som om jeg var blevet tredoblet. Jeg siger Dem, broder, det er herligt at arbejde for Jesus."

4.

Da følte jeg mig rigtig lille, da jeg så på Sofie, mærkede jeg ikke mere noget løjerligt ved hende, jeg så kun en kongedatter. Her var en kvinde, der tjente meget lidt, forkyndte Jesus og gav afkald på meget for at lade en missionær uddanne og lønne en lærerinde i syden. Hvilket beskæmmende eksempel for mange af os!

"Hvordan er det Dem da muligt under Deres beskedne forhold at skaffe så meget?" spurgte jeg. "Å, jeg lever jævnt og tarveligt. Mit tøj koster mig så at sige intet. Om morgenen drikker jeg en kop kaffe med et rundstykke til. De øvrige måltider får jeg i de hjem, hvor jeg arbejder. Jeg har kun et lille kammer, det er nok for mig. Men Gud ske lov, jeg har en bolig i himlen. Min ældre broder gør den rede for mig og kommer snart for at hente mig. Det har han lovet. Og dersom jeg dør før han kommer igen, så flytter jeg bare fra stueetagen op i salen ovenover. Der behøver man ikke at betale leje, og man skal ikke være bange for at blive udplantet. Jeg kan stole på Fader. Sælges ikke to spurve for en skilling? Og ikke en af dem falder til jorden uden at han er med i det. Jeg er hans barn, så jeg er da mere værd. Vi glemmer, hvor dyrebare vi er for ham. Men han glemmer det aldrig. For nylig måtte jeg lære en lektie om det igen. Hver morgen læser jeg i min Bibel, den er jo Faders kærlighedsbrev. Ikke sjældent skænder han en del på mig, men det er for at sætte mig i rette, og det trænger vi sådan til."

"En dag slog jeg min bibel op og kom til Fadervor, da sagde jeg: "Å, Fader, det kan jeg udenad, giv mig noget, der ikke er så gammelkendt!" og så læste jeg noget et andet sted. Den morgen havde jeg ingen penge til at købe kaffe og rundstykker for. Nå, tænkte jeg, jeg får morgenmad der, hvor jeg arbejder. Men da jeg kom derhen, var morgenmåltidet ovre. Så ventede jeg på middagsmad."

"Men fruen gik ud og glemte mig. Så jeg fik ingen middagsmad. Jeg var tidligt færdig med arbejde og kom hjem, og gråden nær.
"Fader," sagde jeg, "hvad med det, du siger: Jeg vil aldrig slippe dig og aldrig forlade dig? (Hebræerne 13,5). Jeg har arbejdet hele dagen og har ikke fået noget at spise!" sådan gav jeg mig til at klage. "Men, Sofie," svarede Fader, han talte i mit indre, så jeg næsten kunne høre det, "i morges læste du i min bog, og da du kom til 'giv os i dag vort daglige brød', forlangte du noget, der ikke var så gammelkendt! Er den bøn da blevet for gammeldags?"
Jeg indså straks min fejl, faldt på knæ og sagde: Fader, tilgiv mig, giv mig i dag mit daglige brød, for dit barn er sulten."
Da jeg rejste mig, hørte jeg, der blev banket på. Det var husværtens kone. Hun havde en kop kaffe og kiks med. "Jeg tænkte," sagde hun, "De måske var træt og ked af at skulle lave aftensmad, derfor har jeg det her med til Dem." Da takkede jeg Faderen og priste ham højt.

Broder, det vil jeg sige Dem, vi glemmer så let de mange velsignede gaver, vi modtager daglig. Der er en masse mennesker, der aldrig takker Herren for de utallige gaver, de får fra ham.
Værten hørte om min takkebøn og ville vide, hvad der var hændt. Han er vantro, men han blev rørt, da jeg fortalte ham om bønhørelsen. Hans kone er katolik. Hun sagde til mig en dag: "Sofie, De priser altid Jesus og taler altid om Jesus. Hvorfor taler De aldrig om den hellige jomfru? Jeg beder til hende og håber på at mødes med hende i himlen."
"Vel," svarede jeg hende, "hvis De gerne vil være sammen med Jesu moder engang, så må De først stifte bekendtskab med sønnen, ellers kommer De slet ikke i himlen." "Ja, men," ytrede hun, "det er da Peter, der har nøglerne til den!"
"Mig er det da lige meget, hvem der har nøglerne," sagde jeg så, "for Jesus har sagt: Jeg er døren, om nogen går ind igennem mig, han skal blive frelst (Joh. 10,9).
Eftersom jeg har en åben dør, behøver jeg ikke at vide, hvem der har nøglerne." Det er så vidunderligt at eje Jesus alene og leve for ham. Men broder, nu må jeg gå. Så kommer jeg igen, når Fader giver mig lov."
Jeg fulgte hende ud, sagde farvel til hende og takkede Gud for den prædiken, jeg havde hørt. I hendes nærværelse følte jeg mig himlen nær i Jesus Kristus. Det var, som om en himmelsk luftning omgav denne jævne vaskekone, og den drog mig ind i et inderligere samfund med min Gud og Fader. Hvad jeg har lært af hende om tillid og kærlighed til Jesus, har hjulpet mig på vejen til den himmelske stad og ham, der er konge der. Jeg glæder mig til det øjeblik, da jeg igen skal få lov at høre en af Sofies prædikener."

5.

Således skildrer dr. A. B. Simpson, præst ved "Gospel Tabernacle" i New York, hvordan han for mange år siden første gang mødte Sofie, denne originale vaskekone.

Sofie var medlem af denne menighed og var en ivrig arbejder i Guds rige, en Kristi tjenestepige. Dagen igennem tjente hun sin Gud ved vaskebaljen, og om aftenen gik hun til de fattiges bydel for at bringe dem det glædelige budskab om forløsningen ved Jesus Kristus.

Ved sin brændende kærlighed til sjæle, de stærke, indtrængende ord, hun rettede til de enkelte eller talte ved møder, blev Sofie i årenes løb en kendt skikkelse i New York.

Vi lader hendes præst, pastor Simpson, fortæller videre: I lang tid har jeg nu kendt Sofie. Årene har ikke forandret hende ret meget. Hendes ansigt og hele væsen bærer stadig præg af samme tilfredshed og samme lykke. En dag sagde jeg til hende:

"Sofie, De ser så godt ud. Jeg tror ligefrem, De har taget på siden sidst vi mødtes." "Ja, hvorfor ikke?" lød hendes svar. "Jesu Kristi religion er ikke en religion til at blive tynd af. Min morgenmad er kærlighed, min middagsmad er glæde, og min aftensmad er fred.

Sidste år har jeg ikke spist for en øre kød, og da året var omme, havde jeg ikke des mindre taget ret ordentligt på, og desuden lønnet en missionær i Afrika for det, jeg havde sparet sammen."
"Arbejder De stadig lige meget?"
"Å, ja, De ved nok, mit kald er at vaske og prædike. Jeg er den fødte prædikant, og siden jeg er fattig, har jeg lært at arbejde. Der findes mennesker, som har overgivet sig helt til Gud, med undtagelse af hænderne - de arbejder nødigt. Jeg tænker mig Jesus som en arbejder. Han var ikke arbejdssky. Og når mine hænder bliver ru af det klaverspil (hun kaldte sit vaskebræt klaveret, red.), tænker jeg: sådan er det også gået vor Herre Jesus. At vaske tøj er rengøringsarbejde, og jo mere man renser sig, des større åndskraft får man. Jeg arbejder så hårdt, at Djævelen har læsset rygsmerter på mig. Han angriber overalt, hvor han kan komme til, i ryggen, i hovedet. De ved nok, at han slog Job med bylder over det hele, fra isse til fodsål. Engang anskaffede jeg mig en lænestol, men jeg havde aldrig tid til at hvile mig og stødte mig bestandig på den. Så sagde Fader til mig: "Giv din syge nabo lænestolen. Du kan læne dig til mig, jeg vil være din lænestol."

Jeg var hos en frue for at vaske, hun sagde til mig: "Sofie, vil De også vaske for mig i himlen?" Jeg svarede: "Søg De hellere for at blive vasket, før de kommer der!" Den frue har altid noget at klage over. Jeg kalder hende fru angst og hastværk. Det er en familie med en mængde medlemmer. De råber ustandselig: "Skynd Dem, Sofie, skynd Dem!"

Jeg skal sige Dem, broder: angst og hastværk, det er noget, Djævelen lærer. Fred og ro kommer fra Herren.

Jeg rejste med toget angst og hastværk, da jeg boede i Romerne 7. Men jeg tog omstigning i "Taksigelsesforstaden."

Nu udgår mit tog fra Romerne 8, hvor der ingen fordømmelse er mere. Jesus er togfører, på den linje sker der aldrig sammenstød. Men den dame sidder i "Hastværktoget" og har aldrig tid til at bede, før vasken er overstået. Om morgenen vender hun sig ikke til Gud. Men når natten kommer, bliver hun angst og forlanger, at Gud skal bevare hende. Så siger hun til mig: "Sofie, jeg tænker på, det ville være godt, om De ville bede."

Men vi skal nu ikke se på de andres mangler, det bliver vi bare skeløjede af! Når denne er frue er mig til besvær, så siger jeg: "Herre, det er jo dig, der arbejder for den frue." Siger hun nok engang: "Skynd Dem da, her er seks store baljer fulde til vask!" så hæfter jeg mig ikke ved det, og så kan jeg bevare tålmodigheden. Mister man tålmodigheden, så mister man sin baggrund. Så er man ikke grundejer mere. Og man vil nødig af med det, man ejer."

6.

"Det er så godt at vide, at Gud er over os, omkring os og under os. Det giver kølighed om sommeren og varme om vinteren. Jeg trænger ikke til at gå til vækkelsesmøder for at blive opvarmet eller nybagt. Jeg holder fast på Jesus, han er min helliggørelse. Der er nogle, der er så hellige, at de er snart ikke til at have med at gøre. I kirken er de engle, men hjemme er de djævle! Der er en gevaldig forskel på at være kirkegænger og en sand kristen. Mange er så søde, når de er i kirke, og så nederdrægtig sure, når de er hjemme. Jeg holder på hjemmekristendommen. Alle kristne bør være søde, for de er ligesom "syltede" i Kristus. Men der er nogle der må være faldet i en krukke med eddikeagurker, så sure er de.

Jeg finder, at det eneste middel til daglig at leve det virkelige liv er bestandig at afdø fra sig selv. Vi må dø dag for dag og overvære vores egen begravelse. Først skal vi døde vort eget jeg, så vort gode jeg. Og jo før vi dør, des mere lever vi. Jeg har været til min egen begravelse, og bagefter var jeg helt elendig. Jeg blev begravet, men jeg dukkede op igen på den anden side. Nu lever jeg Opstandelseslivet.

En dag var der en mand, der sagde til mig: "Der er ikke noget liv efter dette!" "Vel," sagde jeg, "men der er en strålende nutid, når De vil tjene Jesus." "Hvad vil De helst have," fortsatte han, "en dårlig samvittighed og en million dollar eller en god samvittighed og ingen dollar?"

Mit svar var: "Jeg er lykkelig, jeg har en god samvittighed, og desuden er jeg millionærdatter." Det er langt bedre end selv at eje en million. Så har man ingen bekymringer, og trænger man til et eller andet, så kan man bare sige: "Fader, jeg trænger til det eller det" - så får man det af ham. Tit og mange gange er min pengepung tom, men mit hjerte fuldt af glæde. Min Fader er rig.

Der findes nogle kristne, de ligner børn, der græder, bare fordi man truer dem med stokken. Den slags mennesker kaster deres frimodighed bort i samme øjeblik, der er tegn til modgang. Det er "regn kristne," bygekristne, deres øjne dryppe altid med vand.
Jeg gør altid umage for at have stråler hos mig. Vil man lyse for Kristus, så må han kunne sende sit solskin ind i vore hjerter. De unge piger i de hjem, hvor jeg arbejder, siger, når de ser mig: "Her kommer solstrålen, Sofie, giv os lige et af Deres halleluja!"

Selvfølgelig sætter Djævelen også mig på prøve. Det fik han jo endogså lov til med Job. Men Gud satte et gærde om Job, så Djævelen ikke fik lov til at komme ham for nær og blev den for lille, hvor meget han så forsøgte sig med. Han har også tilladelse til at sætte Sofie på prøve. Men når han ringer på hos mig, så beder jeg Jesus om at ordne ham.

"Kære Herre Jesus," siger jeg, "vil du ikke nok gå hen og give besked, den gamle gavtyv er ved døren. Du ved bedst, hvordan han skal behandles."

Han prøver godt nok på at overrække mig sit visitkort, men jeg tager det ikke. De ved nok, hans visitkort er modløshed. Altså væk med den! Nu til dags har de sukret Djævelen sådan ind, at man ikke kan kende ham, men i grunden er han altid den samme. Hvad han lover, er ligesom flødeboller uden fløde; pustet op, men tomme. Tit og ofte kommer han og spørger: "Nå, Sofie, hvordan går det? Hvordan er du til pas?"

Jeg svarer: "Skrub af, jeg bygger ikke på følelser, jeg vandrer i tro." Så får jeg kraft som ørnen. Gud giver mig vinger, og jeg svæver over Djævelen. Så giver Gud mig også hjul til at fare af sted. Det er min cykel. Den vælter ikke, den løfter."

7.

"For nylig sagde Fader til mig: "Tag en bibeltekst og læg den i blød. Først vil jeg prædike over den for dig, så kan du siden give den videre til andre." De indser nok, det er ikke altid os, der skal prædike, af og til må vi være mumier.

En dag sagde jeg: "Fader, jeg har ikke fået bud om noget møde i aften, men du kender jo min adresse. Hvis du har brug for mig, så lad mig få bud." Da jeg kom hjem, lå der en indbydelse til et møde i Brooklyn, Så klædte jeg mig straks om. De må vide, broder, Gud er en ypperlig skrædder. Prøv ham blot en gang. Han er billig, og tøjet passer godt. Mit halsklæde, ser De, det var før i tiden en nathue. Fader gav mig den idé. - Nu går jeg om i hverdagstøj, men når jeg kommer i himlen, får jeg søndagstøj. Da jeg kom til Brooklyn, mistede jeg en skønne dag hukommelsen, jeg kunne ikke længere mindes gadenavnet. Jeg standsede og bad: "Fader, jeg har slidt i det hele dagen og kan ikke finde hjem, jeg har glemt min adresse. Du kender den jo, vil du ikke nok sige mig den."

Gud smilte sikkert, da han så mig så forlegen. Men snart sagde han til mig: "Barn, det er Prospektplads, første gade efter svinget." Jeg takkede og gik. Jeg har en Gud, som jeg kan tale med på gaden, ikke blot til bønnemøder. Han er ikke kun en "Søndagsvorherre," men også en hverdags.

En italiener spurgte: "Hvorfor har i ingen billeder af Gud på væggene i jeres kirker?"

Jeg svarede ham: "Jeg har min Gud i hjertet, det er bedre end på væggen. Jeres helgenbilleder kan ikke bønhøre jer, men min Gud, som bor i mit hjerte, han gør det."

Hvert menneske har sin Gud. For en er det tøjet, for en anden maven, andre igen gør sig selv til en gud, som de tjener. Men det er ikke den levende Gud. Jeg har den levende Gud, og han bor i mig. Ser De, broder, et menneske uden den Helligånd, er et vandrende lig, ikke andet.

Efter et møde var der en dame, der indbød mig med sig hjem. Hun sagde: "Sofie, De må ær træt. De må endelig drikke lidt vin, den er hjemmelavet."

"Nej, tak," sagde jeg, "de hjemmelavede djævle er lige så slemme som de andre. Vi må tage os vel i agt! En dranker, forstår De, ham er der kun én politibetjent, der holder øje med. Men når et kristenmenneske kommer ud af kirken, så bliver man passet op af en halv snes folk."

En dag spurgte den frue, jeg arbejdede hos: "Sofie, hvor var De i går aftes? Var De ude at fiske?" "Ja," svarede jeg, "jeg var i diamantgruben - sådan kalder jeg kineserkvarteret. Dér findes mange uslebne diamanter, som man kan slibe for Jesus. Dér er det godt at fiske, møderne varer til midnat. På den måde kan jeg arbejde for mig selv om dagen og for Herren om natten."

8.

"En meget rig dame på 5th Avenue, som jeg arbejdede hos, gav mig en dag, jeg var ved at gå, en pakke med de ord: "Sofie, det kan spare Dem maden om søndagen." Jeg tog den, men hvad var der i den? Tre tørre brødskorper! De var lige hårde som damens hjerte. Ikke for noget i verden ville jeg ligne den dame! Jeg kunne regne ud, at spiste jeg de brødskorper, ville jeg bide mine sidste tænder itu, og det ville koste mig adskillige dollar at få nye. Nå, jeg brækkede skorperne i stykker og blødte dem op, og det sparede mig fem cents, og for dem kunne jeg tage sporvognen til gudstjenesten. Når jeg ingen aftensmad har, giver Jesus mig næring. Hans spisekammer står åbent nat og dag.

I sporvognen sad der en rig mand. Jeg gav ham en traktat. "Tror De, De kan omvende mig?" spurgte han. "Det ville ikke skade Deres ansigtskulør, hvis De omvendte Dem," sagde jeg.

"De er vel nok fin!" udbrød han.

"Ja, hvorfor skulle jeg ikke være det, eftersom Herren har slebet mig af i hele tredive år! Så er det på tide, at ujævnhederne forsvinder."

Sådan burde man bruge enhver lejlighed til at aflægge sit vidnesbyrd. Jeg gør det og har gjort det i tredive år.

I vort kvarter kender de mig alle sammen.

Unge mennesker siger somme tider til mig: "Hør, mutter, giver du ikke en kop kaffe?"

Jeg siger: "Jo, drenge, men bagefter går i med mig til møde."
Så kommer de med, men de stakkels fyre falder i søvn alle til hobe. Dog kan en sige til en anden: "Når Sofie skal tale, tag så lige og væk mig!" - og så kan man se, hvordan den ene vækker den anden med albue puf, når jeg rejser mig. De vil gerne høre mig, fordi de ved, at jeg holder af dem. Jeg elsker alle mennesker, ikke fordi de er så elskværdige, men fordi Jesus elsker dem. Jeg går i beværtningerne for at indbyde folk. Jeg kan forsikre Dem om, at de kristne er bagud i forhold til tiden. De sukker over udgifter til gas lys ved vækkelsesmøder, mens værterne nat efter nat lader tredive gas lys brænde; uden at klage sig. De ved, hvordan man trækker ungdommen til. Nå, men dem indbyder jeg til møde.

"Jeg skal nok komme," sagde en vært til mig, "og jeg tager min ismaskine med for at afkøle forsamlingen."

"Som De vil," sagde jeg, "men når De farer til helvede, kan De ikke tage den med for at blive afkølet."

Ja, jeg kan forkynde Jesus for enhver. Og hvorfor skulle jeg ikke det? Han har da sagt; "Forkynd evangeliet for al skabningen!" (Markus 16,15). Man kan altså umuligt gå fejl. Der er nogle slemme nogen, der vil påstå, at de har set mig stå og fortælle om Jesus for en "træ-indianer," der er anbragt som skilt uden for en tobakshandel. Det kan være, jeg ved det ikke, mine øjne svækkes. Men det er langt værre selv at være en "trækristen," der aldrig siger nogen et ord om Jesus. Djævelen har jo sine tjenere, som arbejder for ham og ikke genere sig for at tale med folk. Hvorfor skulle vi så være så forsigtige?

En sen nat var jeg på vej hjem fra et møde.
En mand, der røg på en cigaret, tiltalte mig:
"Søde ven, må jeg følge Dem hjem?"
"Nej," sagde jeg, "Jesus er hos mig, jeg har nok i ham."
"Å, undskyld," sagde han, "De er ikke sådan en kvinde, som jeg antog."
"Nej, men De er lige akkurat den mand jeg mener. Deres navn står i min bog."
"Mit navn navn i Deres bog? Det må De dog lade mig få lov at se!"

Han pulsede voldsomt på cigaretten. Så åbnede jeg min bibel og sagde: "Ja, Deres navn er Synder, De er på vej til at gå fortabt og går til et sted, hvor der er al den røg, De kan ønske Dem, dér, hvor der står om: Røgen fra deres pine stiger op i evigheders evigheder." (Åbenbaringen 14,11). Så bad han om undskyldning igen og havde travlt med at komme videre.

"De skulle skynde Dem at søge frelsen!" råbte jeg efter ham.
"De må meget undskylde," sagde han, "værsgo, her har De en dollar til de fattige." Han tog til hatten og gik.

Klokken tre om morgenen var jeg hjemme.

Da det nu var blevet så sent, satte jeg mig hen med en kop te, begyndte en samtale med Jesus, og over det samvær glemte jeg at gå i seng. - Pludselig udbrød jeg: "Ja, men, Herre, nu er det tid til at gå i seng, i dag har jeg syv store baljefulde, jeg skal vaske, så nu må du have godnat!"

Men da jeg så på uret, var den allerede seks. Nuvel, Herren går aldrig i seng, hvorfor skulle jeg så ikke kunne våge for ham for en gangs skyld? Så sagde jeg til ham: "Herre, nu er det ikke tid til at gå i seng. Giv mig noget med på vejen for denne dag!" Og jeg fik det ord: "Som dine dage skal din styrke være." (5. Mos. 33,25), og "Han dækker dig med sine fjedre" (Salme 91,4). Så gik jeg på arbejde med lovsang. Jeg stod i gården og havde travlt med at vaske, da jeg hørte noget falde. I det samme råbte jeg: "Nu, Herre, dæk mig i en fart med dine fjedre!" Det var en vinduesskodde, men den ramte mig ikke. Den slog en stor urtepotte i stykker. Manden til fruen i det hjem sagde til mig: "Sofie, bed for min forretning, så jeg kan tjene end, hvad den urtepotte har kostet. Havde jeg nu bare de penge, så ville jeg give dem til missionen!" Den mand ville altid så gerne give de penge, han allerede havde givet ud. Jeg har glæde af at bringe Jesus det første offer, selv om det kun er så lidt. To cents fulgt af bøn når vidt."

9.

"Jeg har kendt en mand, der nærede det ønske at komme til at forkynde evangeliet i Afrika. Han var fyldt af Guds Ånd og kærlighed til sjæle. Men missionsselskabets bestyrelse ville ikke udsende ham. De syntes, han var for gammel, der var heller ingen penge. Så talte Herren til mig: "Sofie, gør du det, bestyrelsen ikke vil. Send du ham ud, jeg vil sørge for, at du kan tjene de penge. Når bestyrelsen ikke tør, så skal dit vaskebræt klare det. Der er endnu penge skjult i det gamle bræt." Nogen tid efter talte Herren til mig: "Missionæren behøver et harmonium, og den eneste bestyrelse, der står bag ham, er dit vaskebræt. Jeg skaffer dig arbejde i tredive dage, og du køber et harmonium." Som sagt så gjort. Og nu, når jeg står her og spiller klaver på mit vaskebræt, så tænker jeg, at han spiller på harmoniet. Og er jeg træt, så tænker jeg på, hvor glade negrene er for at høre på det harmonium.

For øvrigt, som broder Paulus siger, kommer Herren jo snart med stor magt og herlighed, og vi bliver bortrykket i luften for at møde ham. Broder, sørg for, at De til den tid har hånden på skulderen af en synder, for at De kan få ham med."

10.

Sofie døde i oktober 1919, tre dage efter hendes præst, den pastor Simpson; som har fortalt om hende.

"Det var, som en himmelsk luftning omgav denne jævne vaskekone, og den drog mig ind i et yderligere samfund med min Gud og Fader. Hvad jeg har lært af hende om tillid og kærlighed til Jesus har hjulpet mig..."

Sådan skriver den amerikanske præst, A. B. Simpson, i sin sandfærdige beretning om Sofie, en original kvindeskikkelse, som tjente til livets ophold ved vaskebaljen, men iøvrigt altid var parat til at tjene den Herre, som hun skyldte alt.

Bogen er et gribende vidnesbyrd om, hvad helhjertet tjeneste i Guds Rige kan udrette.

ENGLISHSofie washing wife - called to wash and preach

WRITE IT AND JOY SOFIES SIMPLICITY IN ITS FAITH.

by A. B. Simpson

First

"Sorry sir, there is a wife at the door, she wants to talk to you. She says her name is Sofie and is a preacher. She is a German. I think she is not really in her head, she looks something ridiculous." In the front room I met the "ridiculous wife." She really deserved that designation. She was tall and skinny with prominent cheekbones and radiant eyes. Her hat was legally large and abundantly endowed with fiery red flowers. Over her old-fashioned dress, she wore a black silk robe, which in ancient times must have been most elegant. With the green umbrella in her hand, she really made a strange impression.

As I approached, she smiled at me all over my head. With a strong German tone, she exclaimed, "Oh, brother, I have finally found you. Yesterday I heard you talk about your missionary work. And immediately I said to the Lord," Father, I must speak to that brother. "

"Sofie," he said to me today, "yesterday you made half a dollar, go with it to that brother, and let him hear you preach!"

"Yes, Father," I answered, "but I have no sermon."

"Get on your legs," he said then, "so that you can give the tram money, too, along the way I will preach to you."

"Here I am, and please, here's the money."

What should I think about her? Nearly an hour's walk she had to hand me her daily salary for my missionary work. I had the feeling that if her sermon was on par with her deed, it would be a joy to hear it, and I invited her inside.

Yes, thank you, she wanted to, and the smile on her face was still the same. Watching her, I got the impression that it was a sign of great inner calm. It gave her otherwise unattractive face a touch of sacred joy, which caught my attention.

"Yes, I am called to wash and to preach. I am the born preacher, and since I am poor, I have learned to order something. I work well and people can trust me, as many want me. But along with my work, they must also hear my sermons, no work without the sermon.

They may want to know which community I join? I belong to our Lord Jesus, and I trust God in everything. He is the best job posting office. It costs nothing and you don't have to wait. He sends one to work immediately.

They ask about my family.

We are four, namely: Father, Son and Holy Spirit - and me.

Once, I had saved $ 300 together. A slubbert discovered it and persuaded me to marry him. I was stupid enough to agree. Within two weeks, he had gotten his fingers in the $ 300 and disappeared with them. But I mean now, I got rid of him cheaply. I had disregarded the commandment: "Do not draw in odd yokes with the unbelievers." (2 Cor. 6:14). Jesus says, "Take my yoke upon you" (Matt. 11: 2-9). One should not allow the devil to sit next to one. Then you are ill at risk. Then he seduced me to take the hell train. But the first time it lasted, I got off. I never went to school. The time I was married was my private school. It lasted three weeks. The school fees were $ 300.

"What will you do when I'm gone?" my husband asked. "You only go!" I replied. "I lived before I knew you, I live in faith."

Since then I have never seen him. Will God even save him! I did my duty and preached to him. I have no desire to see him again unless he has been converted. But now I know how to talk to women who are abandoned by their husbands. At least I've learned that. "

2nd

"I wanted to get rid of the laundry and find other work. But it didn't work. Master said to me, 'If you don't get any nicer for this job, then you did better in drowning.'

"No, no," I answered, "I know something better than throwing myself into the sea. I want to throw myself into the arms of Jesus' love."

Then I joined a clergyman's service. I can honestly say it was an ordeal.

Yes, brother, you want to do something for drinkers. With the believers you should begin, that was the right thing. There are so many sad Christians - "Graveyard Christians" I call them. They sit on the tombs, whine and cry and never come into life with the risen Christ. We do not worship a dead savior, but a resurrected savior. And yet so many remain at the cross and are satisfied that their sins are forgiven, instead of entering into the communion of life with the risen Lord. Well, that's how it was with this pastor. The Lord used me to guide him to the light. One day he said to me, "Sofie, how shall I cope with getting the same power in my sermons as you have at the meetings?"

Well, it's very straightforward, "I replied," You spent a whole week studying your sermon. Rather, live in advance what you intend to preach, then aim deeper, and you will probably hit someone. Their sermons boast of mod the wall, You always aim too high! "

"Sofie, with you it always flows, with me it is so poor and miserable."

"It's your own fault. The table is covered, take care of the dishes!"

"Oh, Sofie, sorry I had your stamina and your humility. But my nerves are in disarray to the point that I'll soon be completely out of my mind."

"Yes, I have no one to lend you, and at the pharmacy you can't buy any. But if you read the New Testament properly, you will certainly find what you need."

"How do you mean? I read it right enough, in Greek and in German."

"No, brother, you are not reading it right. Brother Paul says: We also praise ourselves for our hardships. Praising oneself does not mean complaining and wailing. If you persevere, you must praise yourself for your hardships. says after all: tribulation seems endurance, and endurance tried tenacity, and the tried tenacity hope, and hope does not put to shame (Rom. 5.3-5). Now try how to ascend the steps to greater security, when you begin to feel down from below and praise you happily instead of wailing! And as for humility, Peter says: Put on your humility. (1 Peter 5.5) You can't get it in the men's magazine. they do not lead. But instead of envying me, you should turn to our Father in Heaven and ask him for a dress of humility. He hears you, with him there is no personhood. "

"Yes, but, Sofie, as far as clothes are concerned, I am very even, whereas you are elegantly dressed. How can you allow it as a washwoman?"

"My clothes cost me nothing at all! I cleanse ladies who give me their clothes. Why should I not be well-dressed? I am king-daughter, and God is no cloth merchant! He promises us a garment that lasts. When I need something, I say, "Father, I need it and that." And if it is good for me, he gives it to me. But often and often my father says to me: "Sofie, that is not enough you. You don't give kids everything they cry for. "We ask for so much crap. If we got it, we didn't know what to do with it at all."

I've heard of a man who came to a city for the first time. He went into a pub and said to himself that now he would treat himself well, no matter what it cost. He saw a gentleman nearby taking some mustard on the plate, thinking it must have been very good and expensive, since he was so small. And no matter how expensive it is, he thought, I want it. Then he ordered from the waiter for a whole dollar, and he got a plateful in front of him. He took a spoonful, burned his tongue, spit it out - and since then he never ate any more mustard!

This is also how we demand lots and lots of things that we would be hurt if our father gave us and we would quickly become the leaders. For we pray without understanding. For twelve years, I prayed, "Father, let me become a missionary in foreign lands. I want to bring the gospel to the Gentiles."

One day, when I asked my Father again, he said to me, "Sofie, stop it! Where were you born?" "In Germany, Father."

"And where are you now?"

"In America."

"Well, yes, but aren't you already a missionary in a foreign country?"

"Yes, Father."

"Who lives above you?"

"A Swedish family."

"And above them?"

"I think they are Swiss. In the next house there are Italians, and longer Chinese." "And all these people you have never spoken to about my son. Do you think I will send you thousands of miles away when you do not worry about the Gentiles living around you and have never spoken to them about the salvation of their souls? . "

Third

"Then I soon got the job done and I discovered that when we do what is right, God gives us further tasks. I had saved something together. Then I heard one say that if I gave some a boy in Japan could go to school. I did it, and now he is a missionary in his home country. Once I heard about the Negroes in the southern states. "So, Sofie," Father told me, "you can probably do something for them. "But I was still greedy and clung to half a dollar so that the eagle pictured on it might have had reason to scream for grace. I got upset and thought hearing the Father's voice : "Everything you have is from me and you refuse to give me any of it back?"

The turmoil escalated until I went to the priest and gave him what was needed to train a teacher of the Negroes in the south. In that way, I now preach in Japan, in the South, and in New York, as if I had tripled. I tell you, brother, it is wonderful to work for Jesus. "

4th

Then I felt really small when I looked at Sofie, I no longer noticed anything ridiculous about her, I only saw a royal daughter. Here was a woman who served very little, preaching Jesus and renouncing much to let a missionary educate and pay a teacher in the south. What a shameful example for many of us!

"How is it possible, then, in your modest circumstances to obtain so much?" pI asked. "Oh, I live evenly and neatly. My clothes cost me almost nothing. In the morning I drink a cup of coffee with a roll. The other meals I get in the homes where I work. I only have a small chamber, That's enough for me, but God forbid, I have a home in heaven. My older brother makes it clear to me and will soon come to pick me up. He has promised. And if I die before he comes again, then he will move. I just from the ground floor up in the hall above. There is no need to pay rent, and you should not be afraid to be transplanted. I can trust Father. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them falls to the ground without him joining in. I am his child, so I am worth more then. We forget how precious we are to him. But he never forgets. Recently I had to learn a lesson about it again. I am in my Bible, it is the Father's love letter. Not infrequently he sheds a lot on me, but it is to put m in justice, and we need that. "

"One day I opened my Bible and came to Father, and I said, 'Oh, Father, I can do that, give me something that is not so well known!' And then I read something else. I have no money to buy coffee and rolls. Well, I thought, I'll have breakfast there where I work. But when I got there, the morning meal was over. Then I waited for dinner. "

"But the lady went out and forgot about me. So I got no dinner. I finished work early and came home, and the weeping near.

"Father," I said, "what about what you say: I will never let you go and never leave you?" (Hebrews 13: 5). I have been working all day and have had nothing to eat! " that's how I complained. "But, Sofie," Father replied, he spoke in my mind so I could almost hear it, "this morning you read in my book, and when you came to 'give us today our daily bread,' you demanded something, that was not so old-fashioned! Has that prayer become too old-fashioned? "

I immediately realized my mistake, got down on my knees and said, Father, forgive me, give me today my daily bread, for your child is hungry. "

As I got up, I heard knocking. It was the landlady's wife. She had a cup of coffee and biscuits. "I thought," she said, "maybe you were tired and tired of having dinner, so I brought this to you." Then I thanked the Father and praised him.

Brother, I would say to you, we so easily forget the many blessed gifts we receive daily. There are a lot of people who never thank the Lord for the countless gifts they receive from Him.

The host heard about my prayer of thanks and wanted to know what had happened. He is unbelieving, but he was touched when I told him about the prayer hearing. His wife is Catholic. She said to me one day, "Sofie, you always praise Jesus and always talk about Jesus. Why don't you ever talk about the holy virgin? I pray for her and hope to meet with her in heaven."

"Well," I answered her, "if you want to be with Jesus' mother sometime, then you must first become acquainted with the son, or else you will not come to heaven at all." "Yes, but," she stated, "it is then that Peter has the keys to it!"

"Then it is to me who has the keys," I said, "for Jesus has said: I am the door, if anyone enters through me, he must be saved (John 10: 9).

Since I have an open door, I do not need to know who has the keys. "It is so wonderful to own Jesus alone and live for him. But brother, now I must go. Then I will come again when Father gives me permission . "

I followed her out, said goodbye to her, and thanked God for the sermon I had heard. In her presence, I felt heaven near in Jesus Christ. It was as if a heavenly aerial surrounded this damn washing woman, and it drew me into a deeper community with my God and Father. What I have learned from her about trusting and loving Jesus has helped me along the way to the heavenly city and to him who is king there. I look forward to the moment when I will once again be allowed to hear one of Sophie's sermons. "

5th

Thus, Dr. A. B. Simpson, pastor of the "Gospel Tabernacle" in New York, how many years ago he first met Sofie, this original washing woman.

Sofie was a member of this congregation and was a zealous worker in the kingdom of God, a maid of Christ. During the day, she served her God at the wash basin, and in the evening she went to the poor district to bring them the joyous message of the redemption through Jesus Christ.

Through her fiery love for souls, the strong, penetrating words she addressed to individuals or speaking at meetings, over the years Sofie became a well-known figure in New York.

We let her pastor, Pastor Simpson, continue: For a long time now I have known Sofie. The years have not changed her much. Her face and whole being still carry the same satisfaction and happiness. One day I said to her:

"Sofie, you look so good. I think you've been putting on since the last time we met." "Yes, why not?" Satd her answer. "The religion of Jesus Christ is not a religion to be weaned off. My breakfast is love, my dinner is joy, and my dinner is peace.

Last year I did not eat for a penny, and when the year came to a close, I had not less properly taken care of, and also paid a missionary in Africa for what I had saved together. "

"Do you still work just as much?"

"Oh, yes, you know, my calling is to wash and preach. I am the born preacher, and since I am poor, I have learned to work. There are people who have completely surrendered to God, with the exception of hands - they work well. I think of Jesus as a laborer. He was not a workaholic. And when my hands get rough with that piano playing (she called her washboard the piano, ed.), I think: so has our Lord Jesus. Washing clothes is a cleaning job, and the more you cleanse, the greater the spirit you get. I work so hard that the devil has loaded my back pain. He attacks everywhere he can, in the back, in the head. I know he hit Job all over from ice to sole. I once got an armchair, but I never had time to rest and bumped into it. Then Father said to me, "Give your sick neighbor armchair. You can lean on me, I want to be your armchair. "

I was with a lady to wash, she said to me, "Sofie, will you also wash for me in heaven?" I replied, "Seek you better to be washed before they get there!" That lady always has something to complain about. I call her Mrs. Anxiety and haste. It is a family with a multitude of members. They are constantly shouting: "Hurry, Sofie, hurry!"

I'll tell you, brother: anxiety and haste, that's something the devil teaches. Peace and tranquility come from the Lord.

I traveled by train with anxiety and haste when I was living in Romans 7. But I took the detour into the "Thanksgiving suburb."

Now my train leaves from Romans 8, where there is no more condemnation. Jesus is a train driver, on that line no clashes ever happen. But that lady sits in the "rush train" and never has time to pray until the wash is over. In the morning, she does not turn to God. But when night comes, she becomes anxious and demands that God keep her. Then she says to me: "Sofie, I'm thinking it would be good if you would pray."

But now we must not look at the shortcomings of others, we just get rid of it! When this woman is in trouble for me, I say, "Lord, it is you who work for that lady." She says once more, "Hurry up, here are six big tubs full for washing!" then I do not adhere to it and then I can maintain patience. If you lose patience, you lose your background. Then you are no longer the landowner. And you want to get rid of what you own. "

6th

"It is so good to know that God is upon us, around us and under us. It gives coolness in summer and warmth in winter. I do not need to go to revival meetings to be warmed or freshly baked. I hold on to Jesus "He is my sanctification. There are some who are so holy that they will soon be out of touch. In the church they are angels, but at home they are devils! There is a huge difference between being a churchgoer and a true Christian. Many are so sweet when they are in church, and so deplorably sour when they are at home. I hold on to home Christianity. All Christians should be sweet because they are just like "pickled" in Christ. But there are some who must have fallen into a jar of vinegar cucumbers, so sour they are.

I find that the only way to live real life on a daily basis is to constantly die from oneself. We must die day by day and attend our own funeral. First we must die our own self, then our good self. And the sooner we die, the more we live. I have been to my own funeral and afterwards I was completely miserable. I was buried but I reappeared on the other side. Now I live the Resurrection life.

One day there was a man who said to me, "There is no life after this!" "Well," I said, "but there is a glorious present when you want to serve Jesus." "What would you rather have," he continued, "a bad conscience and a million dollars or a good conscience and no dollar?"

My answer was, "I'm happy, I have a good conscience, and besides, I'm a millionaire daughter." It's far better than owning a million. Then you have no worries, and if you need something, you can just say, "Father, I need it or that" - then you get it from him. Often and many times my purse is empty, but my heart full of joy. My Father is rich.

There are some Christians who look like children crying just because you threaten them with the stick. The kind of people throw away their boldness at the same moment that are signs of adversity. It's "rain Christians," building Christians, their eyes always dripping with water.

I always make the effort to have rays with me. If one wants to shine for Christ, then he must be able to send his sunshine into our hearts. The young girls in those homes, where I work, says when they see me: "Here comes the sun, Sofie, just give us one of your hallelujah!"

Of course, the devil puts me to the test too. He was even allowed to do that with Job. But God put a fence on Job so that the devil was not allowed to come near him and it became too small how much he tried himself. He also has permission to put Sofie to the test. But when he calls with me, I ask Jesus to fix him.

"Dear Lord Jesus," I say, "you do not want to go and tell the old gift thief is at the door. You know best how to treat him."

He tries well enough to hand me his business card, but I don't take it. They probably know his business card is discouragement. So get away with it! Nowadays they have sucked the Devil in such a way that you cannot know him, but basically he is always the same. What he promises is like cream balls without cream; inflated but empty. Often he comes and asks, "Well, Sofie, how are you? How are you?"

I answer, "Scrub off, I don't build on emotions, I walk in faith." Then I get power like the eagle. God gives me wings and I hover over the devil. Then God also gives me wheels to go. That's my bike. It does not overturn, it lifts. "

7th

"Recently, Father said to me, 'Take a Bible text and soak it. First, I want to preach it to you, and then you can pass it on to others. ”They probably realize that it is not always us who preach, sometimes we must be mummies.

One day I said, "Father, I have not been invited to a meeting tonight, but you know my address. If you need me, let me have a message." When I got home, there was an invitation to a meeting in Brooklyn, so I immediately changed my mind. You must know, brother, God is a great tailor. Just try him once. He is cheap and the clothes fit well. My necklace, you see, it used to be a night hat. Father gave me that idea. - Now I change into everyday clothes, but when I get to heaven I get Sunday clothes. When I came to Brooklyn, I lost my memory one day, I could no longer remember the street name. I stopped and prayed, "Father, I have worn it all day and cannot find home, I have forgotten my address. You know it, you will not tell me enough."

God sure smiled when he saw me so embarrassed. But soon he said to me, "Child, this is Prospect Place, first street after the turn." I thanked and left. I have a God that I can talk to on the street, not just for prayer meetings. He is not only a "Sunday Lord," but also an everyday man.

An Italian asked, "Why do you have no pictures of God on the walls of your churches?"

I answered him, "I have my God in my heart, it is better than on the wall. Your saintly images cannot hear you, but my God, who lives in my heart, he does."

Every man has his God. For one it is the clothes, for another the stomach, others in turn make themselves a god that they serve. But it is not the living God. I have the living God and He lives in me. You see, brother, a human being without the Holy Spirit, is a walking corpse, nothing else.

After a meeting, there was a lady who invited me home. She said, "Sofie, you must be tired. You must finally drink some wine, it is homemade."

"No, thank you," I said, "the homemade devils are just as bad as the others. We have to be careful! A drinker, you see, there is only one police officer watching, but when a a Christian person comes out of the church, so you get looked after by a dozen people. "

One day the lady I worked with asked, "Sofie, where were you last night? Were you out fishing?" "Yes," I replied, "I was in the diamond pit - that's what I call the Chinese Quarter. There are many rough diamonds that you can grind for Jesus. It's good fishing, the meetings last until midnight. That way I can work for myself by day and by the Lord by night. "

8th

"A very rich lady on 5th Avenue that I worked with gave me one day I was walking, a package with the words: 'Sofie, it may save you the food on Sundays.' I took it, but what was there in the? Three dry bread crusts! They were as hard as the lady's heart. I wouldn't look like that lady for anything in the world! I figured if I ate those bread crusts I would bite my last teeth and it would cost Well, I broke the crusts and softened them up, and it saved me five cents, and for them I could take the tram to the service. When I have no supper, Jesus nourishes me. open night and day.

In the tram sat a rich man. I gave him a treaty. "Do you think you can repent?" he asked. "It wouldn't hurt your face if you repented," I said.

"They are nice enough!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, why should I not, since the Lord has grinded me off for thirty years! Then it is time for the bumps to disappear."

That is how you should use every opportunity to testify. I do itand has been doing so for thirty years.

In our neighborhood, they all know me.

Young people sometimes say to me, "Listen, nut, don't you give me a cup of coffee?"

I say, "Yes, boys, but afterwards join me for a meeting."

Then they come along, but the poor guys all fall asleep. However, one can say to another: "When Sofie is going to talk, please go straight away!" - and then you can see how one wakes the other with elbow puff when I get up. They want to hear me because they know I care about them. I love all people, not because they are so gracious, but because Jesus loves them. I go to the pubs to invite people. I can assure you that Christians are lagging behind in time. They sigh over the cost of gas lights at revival meetings, while the hosts night after night let thirty gas lights burn; without complaining. They know how to attract youth. Well, but I invite them to meet.

"I'll probably come," one host told me, "and I'll bring my ice machine to cool the assembly."

"As you will," I said, "but when you go to hell, you can't take it with you to cool off."

Yes, I can preach Jesus to anyone. And why shouldn't I? He has then said; "Preach the gospel to all creature!" (Mark 16:15). So you can't go wrong. There are some bad people who will claim to have seen me stand and tell of Jesus for a "tree Native American," who is placed as a sign outside a tobacco trade. It may be, I don't know, my eyes are dim. But it is far worse even to be a "tree Christian," who never says a word about Jesus. After all, the devil has his servants who work for him and do not bother to talk to people

. Why should we be so careful?

One late night I was on my way home from a meeting.

A man smoking a cigarette addressed me:

"Sweet friend, may I follow you home?"

"No," I said, "Jesus is with me, I have enough in him."

"Oh, sorry," he said, "they're not such a woman as I assumed."

"No, but you are exactly the man I mean. Your name is in my book."

"My name's name in your book? You must let me see that!"

He pounded the cigarette violently. Then I opened my Bible and said, "Yes, your name is Sin, you are about to perish and go to a place where there is all the smoke you can wish for, where it says: The smoke from their torment ascends into eternity forever. " (Revelation 14:11). Then he apologized again and was in a hurry to move on.

"You should hurry to seek salvation!" I cried after him.

"You must apologize very much," he said, "please, here you have a dollar for the poor." He took to his hat and left.

At three in the morning I was home.

When it was so late, I sat down with a cup of tea, started a conversation with Jesus, and over forgetting I forgot to go to bed. - Suddenly I exclaimed, "Yes, but, Lord, now is the time to go to bed, today I have seven large tubs, I need to wash, so now you must have good night!"

But when I looked at the clock, it was already six. Well, the Lord never goes to sleep, why should I not be able to watch him for once? Then I said to him, "Lord, now is not the time to go to bed. Give me something along the way for this day!" And I got that word, "Like your days, your strength must be." (Deut. 33:25), and "He covers you with His springs" (Psalm 91: 4). Then I went to work singing praises. I was standing in the yard and was busy washing when I heard something fall. At once I cried, "Now, Lord, cover me in a hurry with your springs!" It was a window shutter, but it didn't hit me. It broke a large herbal pot. The husband of the lady in the home said to me, "Sofie, pray for my business so that I can earn more than what the herbal pot has cost. If I had the money now, I would give it to the mission!" That man always wanted to give the money he had already spent. I take pleasure in bringing Jesus the first sacrifice, even if only so little. Two cents followed by prayer when far. "

9th

"I have known a man who nourished the desire to preach the gospel in Africa. He was filled with the Spirit of God and love for souls. But the board of the missionary company would not send him. They thought he was too old to be No money. Then the Lord spoke to me: "Sofie, do you, the board will not. Send him out, I'll make sure you can make that money. When the board does not dare, your washboard should handle it. There is still money hidden in the old board. "Some time after, the Lord spoke to me," The missionary needs a harmonium, and the only board behind him is your washboard. I get you work for thirty days and you buy a harmonium. "As I said so. And now, when I'm standing here playing piano on my washboard, I think he's playing the harmony. And I'm tired, so I think about how happy the Negroes are for listening to that harmony.

Besides, as Brother Paul says, the Lord will come soongreat power and glory, and we are thrust into the air to meet him. Brother, make sure that you have the hand of a sinner at that time, that you may bring him. "

10th

Sofie died in October 1919, three days after her pastor, Pastor Simpson; which has told of her.

"It was as if a heavenly aerial surrounded this damn washing woman, and it drew me into a further fellowship with my God and Father. What I have learned from her about trusting and loving Jesus has helped me ..."

That's how the American pastor, A. B. Simpson, writes in his truthful account of Sofie, an original woman figure who served her life at the sink, but was always prepared to serve the Lord to whom she owed everything.

The book is a moving testimony of what wholehearted service in the Kingdom of God can accomplish.