Faith moves wind

WHEN Hudson Taylor went to China, he made the voyage on a sailing vessel. As it neared the channel between the southern Malay Peninsula and the island of Sumatra, the missionary heard an urgent knock on his stateroom door.


He opened it, and there stood the captain of the ship.


"Mr Taylor," he said, "we have no wind. We are drifting towards an island where the people are heathen, and I fear they are cannibals."


"What can I do?" asked Taylor.


"I understand that you believe in God. I want you to pray for wind."


"All right, Captain, I will, but you must set the sail."


"Why, that's ridiculous! There's not even the slightest breeze. Besides, the sailors will think I'm crazy."


But finally, because of Taylor's insistence, he agreed. Forty-five minutes later he returned and found the missionary still on his knees.


"You can stop praying now," said the captain. "We've got more wind than we know what to do with!"