The Man that Died for Me

I am missionary Richard Yerby speaking to you from scenic mountainous central Japan where I daily preach Christ Jesus in public to multitudes of Buddhist idol worshippers. I highly recommend the book titled Stories Worth Rereading subtitled 72 Heart-Touching Stories published by AB Publishing Incorporated. Please listen to us now as we read the story that touched my heart most compassionately for lost sinners.

The title of that true story is The Man That Died For Me, told by a devout Christian woman, Mrs. J. K. Barney. No date or time frame is given in the story, but it likely occurred in the latter half of the 1800s. The Man That Died For Me For many years I wanted to go as a foreign missionary, but my way seemed hedged about.

At last I went to live in California. Life was rough in the mining country where I lived with my husband and little boys. While there I heard of a man who lived over the hills and was dying of consumption.

The men said, He is so vile that no one can stay with him, so we place some food near him and leave him for twenty-four hours. We will find him dead sometime, and the sooner the better. Never had a relative, I guess.

This pitiful story haunted me as I went about my work. For three days I tried to get someone to go see him and find out if he was in need of better care. As I turned from the last man, vexed with his indifference, a thought came to me, Why not go yourself? Here is missionary work, if you want it.

I will not tell how I weighed the probable uselessness of my going, nor how I shrank from one so vile as he. It was not the kind of work I wanted. But at last one day I went over the hills to the little abode.

It was a mud cabin containing but one room. The door stood open. In one corner, on some straw and colored blankets, I found the dying man.

Sin had left awful marks on his face, and if I had not heard that he could not move, I should have retreated. As my shadow fell over the floor, he looked up and greeted me with an oath. I stepped forward a little, and again he swore.

Don't speak so, my friend, I said. I ain't your friend, I ain't got any friends, he said. Well, I am your friend, and? But the oath came quickly, and he said, You ain't my friend, I never had any friends, and I don't want any now.

I reached out at arm's length the fruit I had brought for him, and stepping back to the doorway, asked if he remembered his mother, hoping to find a tender place in his heart. But he cursed her. I spoke of God, and he cursed him.

I tried to speak of Jesus and his death for us, but he stopped me with his oaths, and said, That's all a lie, nobody ever died for others. I went away discouraged, saying to myself that I knew it was of no use. But the next day I went again, and every day for two weeks.

He did not show the gratitude of a dog, and at the end of that time, I said that I was not going anymore. That night, as I was putting my little boy to bed, I did not pray for the miner. My little boy noticed it, and said, Mama, you did not pray for the bad man.

No, I answered with a sigh. Have you given him up, Mama? Yes, I guess so. Has God given him up, Mama? Ought you to give him up till God does? I could not sleep that night.

I thought of the dying man, so vile, and with no one to care. I rose and went away by myself to pray, but the moment that I knelt, I was overpowered by the sense of how little meaning there had been to my prayers. I had had no faith, and I had not really cared beyond a kind of half-hearted sentiment.

I had not claimed his soul for God. Oh, the shame of such missionary zeal! I fell on my face literally, as I cried, O Christ, give me a little glimpse of the worth of a human soul. Did you, Christian, ever ask that and mean it? Do not do it unless you are willing to give up ease and selfish pleasure, for life will be a different thing to you after this revelation.

I remained on my knees until Calvary became a reality to me. I cannot describe those hours. They came and went unheeded, but I learned that night what I had never known before, what it was to travail for a human soul.

I saw my Lord as I had never seen Him before. I knelt there till the answer came. As I went back to my room, my husband said, How about your minor? He is going to be saved.

How are you going to do it? The Lord is going to save him, and I do not know that I shall do anything about it. I replied. The next morning brought a lesson in Christian work which I had never learned before.

I had waited on other days until afternoon, when my work being over, I could change my dress, put on my gloves, and take a walk while the shadows were on the hillsides. That day, the moment my little boys went to school, I left my work, and without waiting for gloves or shadows, hurried over the hills, not to see that vile wretch, but to win a soul. I thought the man might die.

As I passed on, a neighbor came out of her cabin and said, I will go over the hills with I did not want her to go, but it was another lesson for me. God could plan better than I could. She had her little girl with her, and as we reached the cabin, she said, I will wait out here.

I do not know what I expected, but the man greeted me with an awful oath. Still, it did not hurt, for I was behind Christ, and I stayed there, and I could bear what struck him first. While I was changing the basin of water and towel for him, things which I had done every day, but which he had never thanked me for, the clear laugh of the little girl rang out upon the air.

What's that? said the man eagerly. It's a little girl outside, waiting for me. Would you mind letting her come in? said he, in a different tone from any I had heard before.

Stepping to the door, I beckoned to her, then, taking her hand, said, Come in and see this sick man, mammy. She shrank back as she saw his face, but I assured her with, Poor sick man, he can't get up. He wants to see you.

She looked like an angel, her bright face framed in golden curls, and her eyes tender and pitiful. In her hands she held the flowers that she had picked from the purple sage, and bending down toward him, she said, I'm sorry for you, sick man. Will you have a posy? He laid his great bony hand beyond the flowers on the plump hand of the child, and tears came to his eyes, as he said, I had a little girl once.

Her name was mammy. She cared for me. Nobody else did.

Guess I'd been different if she'd a lived. I've hated everybody since she died. I knew at once that I had the key to the man's heart.

The thought came quickly, born of that midnight prayer service, and I said, When I spoke of your mother and your wife, you cursed them. I know now that they were not good women, or you could not have done it. Good women? Oh, you don't know nothing about that kind of woman.

You can't think what they was. Well, if your little girl had lived and grown up with them, wouldn't she have been like them? Would you have liked to have her live for that? He evidently had never thought of that, and his great eyes looked off for a full minute. As they came back to mine, he cried, Oh God, no! I'd kill her first.

I'm glad she died. Reaching out and taking the poor hand, I said, The dear Lord didn't want her to be like them. He loved her even better than you did, so he took her away.

He is keeping her for you. Don't you want to see her again? Oh, I'd be willing to be burned alive a thousand times over if I could just see my little girl once more, my little Mammy. Oh, friends, you know what a blessed story I had to tell that hour, and I had been so close to Calvary that night that I could tell it in earnest.

The poor face grew ashy pale as I talked, and the man threw up his arms as if his agony was mastering him. Two or three times he gasped as if losing his breath. Then, clutching me, he said, What's that you said the other day, about talking to someone out of sight? It is praying.

I tell him what I want. Pray now, quick. Tell him I want my little girl again.

Tell him anything you want to. I took the hands of the child and placed them on the trembling hands of the man. Then, dropping on my knees with the child in front of me, I bade her pray for the man, who had lost his little Mammy and wanted to see her again.

As nearly as I remember, this was Mammy's prayer. Dear Jesus, this man is sick. He has lost his little girl, and he feels bad about it.

I am so sorry for him, and he is sorry too. Won't you help him and show him how to find his little girl? Do, please. Amen.

Heaven seemed to open before us, and there stood one with the prints of the nails in his hands and the wound in his side. Mammy slipped away soon, and the man kept saying, Tell him more about it. Tell him everything.

But, oh, you don't know. Then he poured out such a torrent of confession that I could not have borne it but for one who was close to us that hour. By and by, the poor man grasped the strong hand.

It was the third day when the poor, tired soul turned from everything to him, the mighty to save, the man that died for me. He lived on for weeks, as if God would show how real was the change. I had been telling him one day about a meeting, when he said, I'd like to go to a meeting once.

So we planned a meeting, and the men from the mills and the mines came and filled the room. Now, boys, said he, get down on your knees while she tells you about that man that died for me. I had been brought up to believe that a woman should not speak in a meeting, but I found myself talking, and I tried to tell the simple story of the cross.

After a while, he said, Boys, you don't half believe it or you'd cry. You couldn't help it. Raise me up.

I'd like to tell it once. So they raised him up, and between his short breathing and coughing, he told the story. He had to use the language he knew.

Boys, he said, you know how the water runs down the sluice boxes and carries off the dirt and leaves the gold behind? Well, the blood of that man she tells about went right over me, just like that. It carried off about everything, but it left enough for me to see Mammy, and to see the man that died for me. Oh, boys, can't you love him? Some days after, there came a look into his face which told that the end had come.

I had to leave him, and I said, What shall I say to-night, Jack? Just good-night, he said. What will you say to me when we meet again? I'll say, Good morning, over there. The next morning the door was closed, and I found two men sitting silently by a board stretched across two stools.

They turned back the sheet from the dead, and I looked on the face which seemed to have come back nearer to the image of God. I wish you could have seen him when he went, they said. Tell me about it.

Well, all at once he brightened up, about midnight, and smiled and said, I'm going, boys. Tell her I'm going to see the man that died for me. And he was gone.

Kneeling there with my hands over those poor cold ones which had been stained with human blood, I asked that I might understand more and more the worth of a human soul, and be drawn into a deeper sympathy with Christ's yearning compassion, not willing that any should perish. Would you be free from the burden of sin? There's power in the blood, power in the blood. Would you or evil a victory win? There's wonderful power in the blood.

Would you be free from your passion and pride? There's power in the blood, power in the blood. Come for a cleansing to Calvary's tide. There's wonderful power in the blood.

There is power, wonder-working power, in the blood of the Lamb. There is power, power, wonder-working power, in the precious blood of the Lamb. Would you be wider, much wider than snow? There's power in the blood, power in the blood.

Sin's stains are lost in its life-giving flow. There's wonderful power in the blood. Would you to service for Jesus your King? There's power in the blood, power in the blood.

Would you live daily His praises to sing? There's wonderful power in the blood. There is power, wonder-working power, in the blood of the Lamb. There is power, wonder-working power, in the precious blood of the Lamb.

Abba, Father, please show great mercy upon me, the chief of sinners, to work within me a heart truly repentant toward Thee for my sins. Please grant me true, pure faith in Thy Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, God's Savior for all mankind. Make me fully desirous for Jesus Christ to save me to the utmost.

In the manner that Jack testified, I plead for the shed blood of Jesus Christ to flow over me, washing away every sin stain and taking away all dross, cleansing me perfectly from sin and leaving only gold. Then stir up my heart to testify of God's saving power to everyone. Amen.

Back in springtime of 2008, a young Japanese mother whom I had never met before asked me to teach English conversation in their rural home about eight miles from my house in central Japan to her two children, an eighth-grade son and a second-grade daughter. So I started teaching them in early April, a one-hour class twice a month from 6 p.m. Both of these Japanese kids were smart and well-behaved, studying diligently, so it was a joy to teach them. Only one month after we started classes, as we were chatting together at the end of our third session, out of the blue, the eighth-grade elder brother calmly said to me, I want to die, but I don't know what happens after death.

When he was about nine years old, his parents divorced, his dad ceasing to live with his wife and two children. Those three moved in with the wife's parents in their large, quaint, old-fashioned Japanese-style house. The two kids and I had our English lessons to ourselves in a nice straw mat floor parlor.

So six-and-a-half-year-old younger sister and I are the only two people who hear this remorseful declaration by elder brother as we sit on this straw mat floor, no chairs in this room. Five or more Buddhist idols sit in this nicest room of this large house, worshipped by this family from generations past. These two kids have never attended any church and have heard nothing or next to nothing about their creator God and eternal hope and bliss found in Jesus Christ.

I silently, earnestly prayed for Holy Ghost power and guidance as I spoke to this 13-year-old boy who wanted to die. The Holy Bible clearly tells us what happens after death. If a person has asked God to forgive their sins and believed on Jesus Christ to save them from the punishment of their sins in hell, that person is saved from going to hell and goes to heaven when they die.

If while living, a person rejects God's savior, Jesus Christ, then God sends that person to hell to receive the punishment of their sins. Brevity makes for a good sermon, so I stopped with that short, vital truth, prayerfully waiting. I did not verbally urge him to receive Christ.

Such urging is the work of God, the Holy Spirit, who is faithful, praise God. In about three seconds, elder brother spoke up proclaiming, I believe on Jesus. I was thrilled to hear that, but that is only a half of God's glory I saw this night in this parlor full of Buddhist idols.

I know not if younger sister sitting nearby on the floor had ever before heard elder brother utter his death wish. Anyway, she has been silently listening to all our words, and she immediately followed elder brother's example by speaking up of her own accord, no prodding by any human agent. I also believe on Jesus.

From then on, at the end of each English session, I led those two souls in Bible reading and prayer. A year later, as elder brother entered ninth grade and younger sister entered third grade, their mother told me that a girl classmate of younger sister wanted to join the class. Would you please teach two separate classes, elder brother alone and the two girls together? Yes, was my ready reply.

We planned for the two girls to study first each evening, followed by elder brother. Thus, when I show up again two weeks later, third grade younger sister and girl classmate are romping around gleefully in that attractive parlor, playing amongst those idols carved of wood. Younger sister introduces me thus wise, this is teacher.

He told me about Christ and I believed on him. Younger sister spontaneously gave that glorious testimony without any prompting from any person. Buddhism is girl classmate's family religion, as in most households around here.

Those Buddhist idols before her eyes are practically the only gods she knows, thus extending her arm toward those false gods carved of wood to indicate them. She questions younger sister with one word, these? Meaning, are these what you believed on? I purposely kept my know-it-all Christian missionary mouth shut tightly to see what would come forth from this eight-year-old new Christian believer in this Buddhist household. No, Christ is different from these.

Younger sister clearly proclaimed, perfect truth that sermon be, and brief enough not to put any listener to sleep. About six months later, another girl classmate joined this girl's class and I continued these fun English and Bible classes in this Japanese home for more than three years after that, during which time I took the three girls to Sunday church once and the short church camps twice. Elder brother was born about 1995, younger sister was born in 2001.

Christian friend, please calculate their ages now and pray earnestly with me that their entire extended family will repent and trust in Jesus Christ to save them. Please pray that their dad who walked out of their lives when they were small would repent and become the best Christian dad possible. As younger sister entered her teens, they ceased having me come to their house to teach them.

From then on, I customarily posted younger sister a birthday greeting three days or so before her birthday and called her on her birthday. The first time I called her after she had graduated from high school, I asked what she was doing. I'm a university student, she replied.

I had well observed that God had created her with a brilliant mind. So I thought to myself that as an 18-year-old university freshman, likely she is intent on thriving madly for all this world has to offer. So I asked her, what are you studying? Her answer did my heart ever so much good, agriculture.

She replied, what do you plan to do with that university degree? She answered, in Japan, farming families are steadily decreasing. Governments on all levels realize at given time, this trend will bring on a food crisis. So they are starting up programs to induce and encourage people to farm.

I want to work in such government programs. Presently, most young Japanese men and women her age are madly in love with the destructive, powerful, high-tech world for their work and their play. Thus, mental illnesses, crimes, and suicides are rapidly increasing among them.

Christian friend, please intercede with me for the salvation of young Japanese souls and pray for a Holy Ghost power upon my daily public preaching as I hold forth the word of life amongst the Japanese race. Near the start of God's Holy Bible, in Genesis 3, verse 23, we read, therefore the Lord God sent him, Adam, forth from the garden of Eden to till the ground from whence he was taken. If the human race desires to eat, then of necessity, it must till the ground, exactly as its creator God ordained for it here when all the human race was in the lawns of Adam.

I perceive younger sister to be a particularly chosen vessel of her creator. Christian friend, please pray for her good. Please pray for our savior to likewise choose many more Japanese Buddhists in the manner as he had chosen her.

As I speak this in my tiny straw mat floor living room the first week in April 2025, I gaze out my window at the lovely cherry tree nearby now budded out and coming into full blossom. I look further past it at the majestic, steep, rugged mountain range in the distance. My heart overflows with joy because I have been highly exalting Jesus Christ in Japan for more than 51 years now and am most privileged to have this lifetime missionary calling.

Lord willing, I plan to spend the remainder of my days on earth here in the slap dab middle of this nation of numerous idols and deep spiritual darkness, letting the true light shine. Thank you who pray for me and who pray for the salvation of the many lost Japanese to whom I preach Christ Jesus. Also, I greatly appreciate you folks who send an offering occasionally so I can buy brown rice, sardines, seaweed, and such to fuel this ancient carcass of mine as I daily go and tell the good news.

Please invite everyone you can to listen to this audio recording on Richard's website. That URL is christisall.us. Separate those three words with two dashes. Christ-is-all.us