The Persistent Scribe

When the news of what had happened to Bahadur and the proofs reached Lahore, consternation reigned at the Bible Society. Now they felt sure they grappled with something too big for human beings to handle. The whole church must entreat God for protection and help in printing the Bible. They sent letters to Christian churches throughout India and to friends across the sea, asking them to pray for completion of the Book.

"It reminds me of the time when the devil tried to destroy the Bible in France," Chandhu Ray told the group of workers in Lahore. "During the French Revolution the Bible was banned in France, and on one occasion a Bible was tied to the tall of an ass and dragged through the streets. The people also kindled huge bonfires to burn Bibles. But they never succeeded in annihilating God's Word. Even in England the devil used to try to stop people from reading the Bible, but he failed. If the church will now pray to God, I'm sure the devil will be defeated again."

So they prayed. In the chapels among the great mountains; in the bamboo churches in the tropics; in city cathedrals and in Christian homes throughout India, in public and in private, a plea arose to heaven for help to finish the Book. New hope came to the workers in the Bible Society. They would try again, and with God's help this time they must succeed.

Fighting had died down in the mountains; so it was decided to send a third set of proofs by regular postal service to Leh. There would be a risk, but would it be any worse than those already taken? With prayer they committed their papers to the post and awaited the results. By truck and horse and speedy courier the package sped on its way over the hills of Kashmir. Armed guards escorted the mails through bandit-infested hills. Finally the mail reached Leh. With jubilation the scribes opened the package and found the papers intact.

Gappel, the scribe, was overjoyed. Now he could quickly make the necessary corrections and send the proofs back to Lahore. Sitting down at a low table, he started work on the sheets. Before long he realized that the master manuscript would need certain corrections and alterations before the work would be perfect. But they would never send the original translation out of Lahore - not in these troubled times. He recalled the fury of the devils on the mountaintop and shuddered again as he thought about the hapless Bahadur. Only a few weeks ago travellers had found the skeleton of the first courier in a deep valley. He had evidently been caught in an avalanche.

"Somehow this work must be finished in spite of the devil's attempts to stop its being printed," said Gappel.

His wife came over to inspect the progress of the work. "Soon you will be ready to send it back to Lahore." She picked up one of the pages and again admired the neat handwriting of Yoseb Gergan. "The old man had a wonderful hand. Look at this writing!"

"There is more than beautiful writing there," commented Gappel. "Only a genius or a man inspired of God could have made that translation, and I think Gergan must have been a part of both."

"What will you do when you have finished the corrections?" Gappel's wife flicked through the pile of papers on the table. "Will they be able to make the corrected version in Lahore?"

"That worries me. It needs the touch of a Tibetan hand." He sat musing for a while; then he had a flash of inspiration.

"That's it! I will take the papers back to Lahore myself and stay there until the printing is completed."

His wife was appalled. "No! You cannot do that. Have we not heard that new fighting has broken out and the whole country is in turmoil? How could you leave us here and die on the way to Lahore? No, you must not go." She broke into loud weeping.

"What is the matter?" cried her sister who lived with them. "Some calamity?"

"Gappel says he is going off to Lahore. He will meet the army on the road and be killed, and what will happen to all of us?"

The Christians in Leh prayed for wisdom to know what they ought to do. They knew that unless the Bible could be printed soon, it might never be completed. Any day they might be caught in the war. At last they decided that Gappel should take the proofs to Lahore and stay until the Bible was finished. Gappel's friends asked him whether he felt he could find his way through the mountains.

"My friends," he replied, "it is many years since I first met Yoseb Gergan. I was a Buddhist youth, following carefully the religion of my fathers. I lived as an acolyte in Sera Gompa in Lhasa, and I was trained to copy the sacred books of Tibet. Those were hard days for a boy. We arose long before dawn to join in prayers in the great hall. After a breakfast of tsampa and butter tea we began our studies for the day. Always there was the round of the monastery images, where we made daily sacrifices of parched rice and butter. How we boys dreaded entering one room where fearful demons hung on great banners around the walls! In the dim smoke they seemed to come alive and breathe out fiery hatred as we came near. How careful we were to make sure we presented our offerings properly!

"We spent hours reading and writing. If one of us made one small mistake, the monk tutor pounded us with his great cane. I tell you, we learned to write carefully with teachers like that."

Gappel noticed that his friends smiled. "You may smile now, but it was no joke for a small boy far from his home."

"Why did you leave the monastery, Gappel? Did you tire of the life there?"

"Not really. An uncle of mine was coming to Kashmir and needed someone to accompany him. He begged the old abbot to let me go, assuring him I would enter another monastery when we reached Kashmir. What a trip that was! It seemed so wonderful to leave the smoke-filled rooms of the huge monastery and be free in the hills again.

"When we reached Kashmir, I entered the little gompa at the other end of the town, where I continued my study to become a Tibetan scribe. It was there that I first met Yoseb Gergan. Many evenings when the day's work was done he would come to the monastery and talk to us about his God, Jesus. We wanted to argue with him, but he never seemed to notice. When we protested that there are many gods and Buddhas in the world, he pointed upward and asked, 'Who made the snow-clad hills and the stars of heaven?' "

"One night he persuaded me to come down to this chapel and listen to him speak. Never have I heard a more wonderful sermon. It seemed as if every word was just for me, and I went home a troubled man.

"Before long the love of Christ touched my life, and I joined you here in worship."

"Well do we remember that night," Paulus, the old elder, smiled at Gappel. "We had prayed for many weeks that you would follow the light, but our faith was weak. Only Yoseb seemed certain you would forsake your old ways and join the new way."

Gappel nodded. "It was a great struggle, but never have I regretted that decision. Later when I was called to work with Yoseb in translating this Book, I knew God had called me. All the training of my youth prepared me to be a tool in His hand that His Word might speak to our people. You ask me if I think I ought to go to Lahore and whether I will ever get through Brethren, this is no time for such questions. God's Word must be finished and the only way to finish it is for me to go to the city beyond the mountains. Whether or not I succeed is not the important thing. To follow God's will is more important."

"May God then go with you," said Paulus. "Let us gather around our dear brother and commend him to God for the perilous journey ahead."

The Christians knelt in prayer and committed Gappel and his precious papers to the care of their heavenly Father. A few days later Gappel's family and friends escorted him out along the trail toward Lahore. Somewhere beyond those hills men were dying as the armies of India and Pakistan fought for possession of Kashmir. Like the couriers before him, Gappel would have to follow the high mountain trails and avoid the troubled valleys.

A few of the stronger men followed the scribe to the foot of the first pass and there paused to say their final good-byes. "Do not fear for me, my friends. God will go with me." Gappel looked around at the familiar faces. "If anything happens to me, look after my family. I can only leave all in God's care."

"Have no fears for your family. We will see that all their needs are met until you return. Go carefully, but come again quickly with the finished Book."

Gappel led his pony up over the pass. His dangerous journey had begun.