The Boy of Faith
The secret of his strength was his whole-hearted desire to please God, as a child loves his father. It is a secret every boy today can know through faith.
“I can bear the punishment better than my sister. Let me remain,” the young boy said determinedly.
The tribal chief looked at his oldest son with despair. He had lost a war with a neighboring tribe, and, according to custom, had given Kaboo up to be their prisoner until the ransom could be paid. Twice before he had brought all the valuables his tribe could gather. The chief of the victorious tribe would not accept the offerings at their true value. He had become addicted to alcohol, and had decided to keep Kaboo, so he could continue to get more goods from Kaboo’s tribe, which he could trade in for more alcohol. If they did not continue to pay, Kaboo would be tortured. Yet his tribe was nearly poverty-stricken by the lost war, and all the valuables they had given up.
Finally Kaboo’s father had come with the offer to trade one of his daughters for Kaboo. But Kaboo would not hear of it. Once, after a previous war, in which his father could not complete the ransom amount for many years, Kaboo had been tortured. He knew his sister couldn’t bear it. So he willingly decided to remain instead of his sister. His father could do nothing more, except to return home, and hope that some day he would save enough to ransom his son.
When the drunken chief realized that Kaboo’s father was not going to pay him any more, he got very angry. He ordered that Kaboo should be whipped every day. So, every day, Kaboo was taken out and whipped with a thorny, poisonous vine. As the whip cut his back, Kaboo felt as though he were burning up. No money came from his tribe, though, and every day Kaboo was whipped harder than before. The angry chief ordered one of his slaves, who was from Kaboo’s tribe, to go, after each whipping, and tell Kaboo’s father about the agony his son was suffering. But what could Kaboo’s father do? He had nothing. His tribe had nothing. They had given every last thing they could.
The torture did not stop. Every day Kaboo grew weaker and more feverish. Soon he could not stand. The wicked chief could not be satisfied. He ordered that branches be set up which they would throw Kaboo on and whip him. Kaboo could now scarcely think. He hoped he would die and be out of his misery. He watched other slaves from his tribe accused of witchcraft being torn to pieces by the evil chief’s drunken tribe. He wondered if that would happen to him.
But the brutal chief had something more atrocious in mind for Kaboo. If Kaboo’s father did not pay after the last beating, Kaboo was to be buried to his neck in the ground. Then, after forcing his mouth open, they would smear sweet juice from it to a large ant hill nearby. After he had suffered agonies with that, they would then have the final work be done by the dreaded driver ants—he would slowly be eaten alive by them, and his skeleton propped up to be a warning to others.
The final day came, and Kaboo was dragged out to his last whipping. They threw him onto the waiting branches and prepared to beat him. Kaboo felt death approaching.
Suddenly a blinding light burst around him. “Rise up and flee!” a loud voice called. Everyone there saw and heard it. Obeying the voice, Kaboo leapt up, and, finding himself strong and well, ran off into the jungle, leaving the awe-struck savages quaking.
Kaboo did not know what had saved him. But he did know that he had been raised from near death to health, and that he owed his life to someone or something. It was a week later that he stumbled out of the jungle at a mission. Here he learned of God, the One who had sent the light and delivered him. How thankful Kaboo was then! He was eager to learn about Jesus and become a child of God. Now with simple, trusting faith, the young boy set out to live his life for his heavenly Father.
Two or three years had passed on the African coast.
One fine morning, the sun shone brightly on the sand, and glinted off the tops of the waves splashing on the beach. Anchored some distance from the shore, a merchant ship rose and fell with the swells. In the morning light, a boat could be seen leaving its side, pulling for the shore. When it reached the beach, and the captain of the ship got out to direct the loading of cargo.
A dark-skinned youth hurried up to him. “My Father told me you would take me to New York to see Stephen Merritt,” he said confidently.
The captain stared at this boy. Who did he think he was? “Where is your father?”
“In heaven,” the boy said, without hesitation.
The captain swore. His mother had told him about God and Jesus when he was a young child, but that had been long ago, and in his life at sea, he had only gone deeper and deeper in sin. When he did mention God, it was only to take His name in vain. “My ship does not carry passengers. You must be crazy.” He swore again and strode off.
The boy was not discouraged by this. He knew his Father would take care of it all. He had been seeking to learn more about God and His Holy Spirit, and finally his questions had sent him here. “Stephen Merritt in New York would know,” he was told, and so he had set out to find him.
During all of that long, hot day, he waited patiently by the boat. In the evening the captain came down to the beach, and prepared to set out with the things he had gotten. The dark youth knelt down and pled with the captain to take him. But, after threatening to kick him, the captain returned to the ship, and the boy was left alone on the beach.
All that night he stayed there. He slept for awhile. Mostly he just waited and talked to his Father in heaven. In the morning the captain came again with the boat. The dark youth begged him again, and again he was refused. The hours slowly crawled by, and the boat returned to the ship again that night without him. And the boy spent his second night on the beach, fasting and praying. He’d had nothing to eat since he’d arrived there, but he trusted that his Father would care for him.
Sunday morning dawned with renewed hope for the African boy, for God’s mercies are “new every morning.” He had received a promise in the night. When the boat came to shore the third time, the boy came up to the captain with the utmost confidence and said, “My Father told me last night that you would take me this time.”
The captain stared at him, amazed and bewildered. Could God have been dealing with the captain’s heart? The night before, two of the crew had deserted, and he was now short on help. He could see that this boy was of the Kru tribe, and they were known for being experienced sailors. He thought about it a moment. “How much pay do you want?” he asked, shrewdly.
“Nothing,” the boy replied calmly, “only take me to New York to see Stephen Merritt.”
“Very well, then,” the captain nodded, “you may go.” He turned to the crew, and told them to take the African boy aboard.
“And the Lord said, Hear what the unjust judge saith. And shall not God avenge his own elect, which cry day and night unto him, though he bear long with them?” (Luke 18:6,7)
Kaboo, the dark-skinned boy, came to be known as Samuel Morris, “the apostle of simple faith.” Wherever he went—aboard ship, in New York, and later to Taylor University—Samuel was ready to tell others about his Father. His simple and earnest faith touched many lives, including the captain of the ship. For a full account of his short life, read Samuel Morris by Lindley Baldwin.
Consider:
What showed that Kaboo was not a selfish boy?
When the voice told Kaboo to flee, what did he do? Was it something he felt like doing?
When Kaboo obeyed the voice, even though he didn’t know what would happen, he was acting in faith. How did faith bring him to become a child of God?
Where did Kaboo stay when the captain refused to take him along? Why?
Why did the captain change his mind?
Could you trust God like a Father? Why or why not?
“I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.” (Psalm 91:2)