Thinking black; 22 years without a break in the long grass of Central ...

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THINKING BLACK
boast of dignity—only to find his strength oozing out of
his body. But just as in painting light is brought out
by shade, so this king learned the secret of power from
this very secret of weakness. For finally God said He
would " make an end," and this word " end " was the
beginning of bliss. Said the monarch :
" King ? no king
am I, but a worthless slave. All kingship is Thine and
all power !
" Then it was the wondrous tide of power
flowed back into his body : the weakling now a giant ; the
abject a strong man made strong out of weakness. Mere
dream though it was, it has solemnly crystallised into
dogma, and here am I a Missionary stumbling across these
other "dream" Missionaries in the grass. In our zeal
for God's written record we are too apt to treat all this
as a weird and doubtful business—mere misty dream.
Forgetful of the fact that God's own Book it is that
declares, "in a dream . . . He
openeth the ears of men."
Forgetful, likewise, that if England does not get these
divine dreams it is because England, a land full of Bibles,
does not need them. Forgetful, finally, that God may
speak to those to whom He does not write.
In Lubaland, one old man, "The SnufF-maker" by
name, beats the whole land at length of hair, and this
because he has bound himself with an oath never, never-
more to get his hair trimmed. He dreamed a dream,
but the dream played him false ; and, as the head is the
dreamer and not the heart, he doomed his head to the
endless rebuff—of nevermore visiting the barber. A great
punishnient, indeed, but so, too, had that dream been