I was beyond afraid. I
gripped the edge of
the church pew until
the white knuckles of
my thin,
eight-year-old hands
threatened to burst
through my taut skin.
Miss Harriet Beardslee,
a Christian missionary
to India, was
retelling her
well-known “Tiger
Story.” As frightening
and true as it was, I
had to hear it again.
I had even invited two
school friends to join
me in listening to
this amazing tale that
thrilled and chilled
me at the same time.
Miss Beardslee, a
master storyteller,
leaned forward with
great drama and loudly
whispered, “There we
were, another single
missionary and I,
sleeping in a
canvas-covered wagon
with an open slit in
the back. Outside, the
fire we had built
earlier, was still
burning brightly
enough to cast an
eerie glow over the
blackness of the night
near this small
village in a clearing
at the edge of the
jungle. We had come to
tell people in India
about God’s love for
them.
Suddenly, we felt our
wagon shake violently!
A huge, man-eating
tiger from the jungle
put his heavy front
paws on the end of our
wagon and thrust his
massive, furry head
inside the canvas
curtain. He bared his
7-inch-long fangs and
unleashed an unearthly
growl deep in his
throat. We were
terrified. He was only
feet from us, ready to
spring! And this
species of tiger, when
hungry, is known to
savagely tear into
human flesh, kill
around the throat,
then eat his prey
until satisfied.
"What would you do if
you’d been there?” she
asked the sixty
children sitting
rigidly in fear before
her.
One small boy’s hand
shot up. “I’d run and
get in bed with my
mother!” he gasped.
Miss Beardslee
carefully explained
that they had been
alone, no houses, no
other people around.
And this was before
cars were available in
India for easy travel.
She continued on.
“Suddenly, I
remembered a book I’d
read in grade school
many years before in
America which
explained how you can
stare a tiger down.
You must appear
unafraid to the tiger.
You can’t take your
eyes from his, no
matter how long it
takes. Then I
remembered something
else. Just before I
took the ship from
America to India as a
missionary, a little
girl prayed aloud for
me.
“Dear God,” she said,
“Don’t let the tigers
eat Miss Beardslee.”
"I knew that God had
brought these two
things to my
remembrance to comfort
me and give me
courage! I whispered
to my companion in the
semi-darkness, “You
pray and I’ll stare.”
I would explain the
staring part to her
later.
“She quickly began to
pray silently while I
began to stare.
Straight into the
tiger’s huge eyes
which were only a leap
away from me. I stared
and stared. I stared
until my eyes hurt and
tears started
streaming down my
cheeks. The tiger gave
no indication that he
was going to back
away. In my mind, I
recited every
Scripture verse I knew
about God’s promise of
protection. And still
we continued to stare
into each other’s
eyes.”
By this time, the
tension in the church
was palpable. Every
child was intently
focused on Miss
Beardslee as she
opened her eyes wider
and wider for effect.
We knew she was a
godly woman and would
never invent such a
story or embellish it
in any way.
“Finally,” she
continued, “After
about a half hour, the
tiger lowered one
giant paw to the
ground, but kept on
staring. Then he
slowly lowered the
other paw to the
ground and began to
back slowly, slowly
away. When he was at
the edge of the
clearing, he turned
and ran into the
jungle, disappearing
from our view.”
Sixty children exhaled
simultaneously with
profound relief.
Miss Beardslee then
told us of the
wonderful protecting
power of God, how we
can trust Him but that
we must also exercise
watchful care over
ourselves. She thanked
God over and over for
sparing their lives,
allowing them to spend
many more years in
India, working in the
dreaded leprosariums
and telling people
that Jesus loves them.
She ended her story
with this
heart-stopper: “In the
morning when we had
enough light to move
our wagon to a safer
spot, a guard at the
nearby village stopped
to advise us to be
careful. A man-eating
tiger had attacked
someone in the small
village during the
night, had killed him
and dragged his ripped
and torn body into the
jungle to feast on it.
It had occurred near
us, about one hour
after God had helped
me stare down the
tiger in our covered
wagon at the edge of
the jungle in India.”
Mariane Holbrook
http://www.marianholbrook.com
Mariane Holbrook is a
retired teacher, an
author of two books,
a musician and artist.
She lives with her
husband on coastal
North Carolina. She
maintains a personal
website
http://www.marianholbrook.com
and welcomes your
Emails at
Mariane777@bellsouth.net
