They Heard Someone Singing

This article is from Issue 6, Called to Praise

Account by Gladys Aylward

Not long after believing on Jesus Christ, Gladys Aylward, a young London parlour maid, followed the call from God to take the Gospel of Jesus to China, a country she would give her heart and life to. Most famous for leading 100 Chinese children across the mountains to safety during a time of war, the account that follows occurred shortly after that event.

While in Fenghsien working among the refugees, I was invited to take part in a conference of young people to speak about pioneer work, but I couldn’t give any lectures as I became ill again.

I lay in bed, weak and full of doubts, wondering why I was there, when one day I heard murmurs coming from the next door, so I crept out of bed to investigate. Peeping through the open doorway, I saw several students squatting around a map. One would close their eyes, stick their finger on the map on the floor, then they would all pray for that place. This went on and several towns and villages were prayed for.

After, I learned that the Northwest had been laid on their hearts and they were praying every day for different places.

I was ill, in bed mostly, for three weeks but at one of these meetings I asked, “Is anyone going to these places you are praying for?” “No one is available as we have not finished our studies, we have no money and we don’t know that part of the country. Our special prayer is that someone will go and spy out the land.”

Soon I was convicted that God was asking me to go to this unknown territory, so I offered myself to this group of earnest Christians, and with their prayers and blessings I set off.

A NEW JOURNEY BEGINS

The countryside was beautiful and for the first few days my leisurely journey was pleasant. I could converse with those I met, but I knew that before long the language would prove a difficulty. As I travelled further into the Northwest, I managed to get someone to escort me as guide from village to village, and I stayed a few nights with Christians. When I asked about the road ahead, everyone advised me to turn back. “You cannot go further, this is the end,” they all said.

“But the world doesn’t just end like that,” I argued. “I must go on, it is what I’ve come for.” They shook their heads and thought me very strange, but seeing I was determined to go on, a Christian Chinese doctor called Dr. Huang offered to join me as he’d always been curious as to what lay beyond.

We spoke to those we met about Jesus Christ, none had heard about the Son of God. After ten days we came out onto a mountainside and spent the night in a dirty hut. The next day we plodded without seeing a living soul or any signs of habitation.

As the day went on I grew more perturbed. Where were we going to sleep or find food? I stared around then burst out, “Dr. Huang, we are going to put down our bundles and pray.”

We knelt and I prayed, “Dear God have mercy on us. You can see what a plight we are in. Give us food and shelter for the night.” My whole prayer was taken up by my own wants.

Calmly, Dr. Huang began to pray. “O God, send us the one You want us to tell about Jesus. We have witnessed to no one today, but You have sent us here for some special purpose. Show us where to find the man that You intend to bless, amen.”

I felt humbled and ashamed. After a few moments I said, “Shall we sing a chorus?” We sat and sang for a while, and our voices carried far into the clear mountain air. Suddenly Dr. Huang jumped to his feet. “There is our man!” he cried, and before I could stop he dashed off towards the mountain side.

I sat alone feeling very small in this lonely barren land, when finally I saw two little specks on the mountain. Dr. Huang came running back shouting “Come, I’ve found our man!” I just sat there, it made no sense for me to scramble up that steep rocky hillside.

“God obviously wants us to go up, come along,” urged Dr. Huang when he reached me. “What about our bundles?” I asked. “Leave them, there’s no one here to steal them.”

Half carried, half pushed, I scrambled up and found, leaning against a rock, a Tibetan priest. I stared from him to Dr. Huang. I knew that they were supposed to have nothing to do with women, also that outwardly they appeared to be holy men, but inwardly many of them were bad, immoral and superstitious.

“Did you tell him I was a woman?” I demanded of Dr. Huang. “Yes, and he invited you to come and spend the night in the lamasery.”

THE GOD WHO LOVES

I hesitated. What were we letting ourselves in for? Why should Tibetan priests invite me into their sacred buildings? Suddenly the man spoke, and though his accent was strange, I could understand what he said.

“We have waited long for you to tell us about the God Who loves.” My heart jumped, and without another word we followed him up the path. We reached the lamasery and the beauty of the scene caught my breathe. The side of the mountain which we had climbed was barren and rocky, but this side had water, and the mountain was covered in rich green grass and flowering vines.

At the top stood the lamasery, imposing and stately. As we approached, my fears returned and the huge gates closed as we went inside. A party of priests greeted us reverently and escorted me to a room. Men came back and forth bringing everything they could for my comfort—rugs, cushions, water for washing and dishes of daintily prepared food. It seemed like a dream!

As we had just had a strenuous climb, I was very weary and had just lied down when two men knocked on the door and politely asked me to accompany them. I was joined by Dr. Huang and we were escorted through one courtyard to another until we came to a very large one. In this were five hundred monks sitting in a large semicircle on coconut leaves, very piously with their heads bowed, with two piles vacant in the centre, which we sat on.

“What on earth were we expected to do?” I wondered nervously. Dr. Huang said, “Now we will begin. You sing.” “But what shall I sing?” “Anything.”

In a trembling voice I sang a Chinese chorus. A deathly silence followed, then Dr. Huang spoke of the baby born in a stable in Bethlehem who grew to be the Saviour who died at Calvary. “Now sing again,” he said. So I sang, then talked, then sang, then he talked, then I sang, then I talked.

Still the five hundred men, whose faces we could not see, sat immobile. When was this going to end? On the verge of collapse, Dr. Huang looked at me and said, “We will finish,” and rising we sailed out of the great hall to our rooms. Later we discovered, that as guests we must be the first to stand!

I was ready to lie down when there was a knock on the door, two monks stood outside. “Woman, are you too tired to tell us more?” they asked humbly. “Are you allowed into my room?” I asked. “Yes, if there are two of us. They came in, listened intently, then left, to be followed by two more. And so it went on all night, always with the same question, “Will you explain how and why He died? Will you explain how it is He could love me?”

These men never questioned that God was the creator of the world, they never doubted the virgin birth, they did not consider any of the miracles. To them, it was the wonder of God’s love which obsessed them. The story of Christ’s death at Calvary filled their minds with awe and reverence.

In the morning, I found Dr. Huang had the same experience as I. Here were men thirsting for the old story of God’s wonderful plan of salvation so we stayed for a week. On the day we were to leave, I received a summons to go before the head lama whom we had not seen so far.

I found him a fine looking man sitting on a beautiful cushion, and to my amazement he spoke pure Mandarin which I understood perfectly! We discussed various things, then I asked, “Why did you let me, a foreign woman, come into your monastery? Why did you allow me to speak to your priests?”

He replied “On our mountain grows a herb which we collect and sell in the cities. One year, the priests taking the herb harvest down on mules passed through a village, and saw a man waving a paper, calling out, ‘Who wants one? Salvation for free. He who believes gets salvation and lives forever.’”

He showed me the paper they brought home, now old and worn. On it was just one verse, John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that who ever believes on Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” From it they had learned that there was somewhere, a God who loved.

He continued. “The next year when our men took the harvest to the cities, they tried to find where the God who loves lives. For five years they found nothing, then one found an evangelist who gave him a copy of the gospels. We have read them, and believe all they contain, but there is much we do not understand. But one verse was of special importance.

Christ had said, ‘Go into all the world and preach the gospel,’ so we knew one day someone would come to tell us more about this wonderful God. All we had to do was wait, and when God sent a messenger, to be ready to receive him. We waited three years, then two priests were gathering sticks on the hillside when they heard someone singing. Only people who know God will sing, they believed you were the messengers we were waiting for.”

I preached the glorious gospel in that place that God had appointed and prepared; I left the rest to Him. No lamasery stands there now for the communists destroyed it and the men fled, but I have no doubt that many believed, trusted and received salvation.

Taken from Life on the Altar Publication
Issue 6 Autumn 2022