Sadhu Sundar Singh believed in angels. However skeptical or cautious his friends from the West might be, affected as they were by the higher criticism of that period, he had not the slightest doubt about either the existence of these spiritual beings or of their having come to his aid in times of danger. On his return from some of his journeys in the Himalayas, he quite naturally related experiences of deliverances, which he attributed to angels who appeared in the form of men.

On one occasion, having being directed along a forest path that eventually led to a river, he saw that it was too wide and swift flowing for him to cross. Night was already falling, and with the sound of wild beasts in his ears, he wondered how he would fare, and whether the end of his life had come. To face death alone in that isolated spot was no easier for him than for anyone else, and his eyes were filling with tears when, looking across the river he saw a man warming himself by a fire.

“Don’t worry, I am coming to help you”, the man called out, and stepping down into the water, he came across fearlessly and said to Sundar, “Sit on my shoulders, and don’t be afraid”. Perched on the man’s back, Sundar found himself carried through the river and up the bank, Thinking to himself, “He must live near here, and so be used to crossing. I must tell him the Good News about Jesus…” On arrival at the other bank, Sundar slipped off his rescuer’s back, glanced around to get his bearings, then turned round to speak to him – but the man had disappeared. Neither was there any trace of the fire.

Another help from the angel

One day it was the evening when having tried to preach in a place called Kanyan all the day, only to be interrupted again and again by men who were bitterly opposed to him, he made his way out to a desert place, dropped down hungry and miserable under a tree and fell asleep. About midnight, he was awakened by a touch, and a voice told him to get up and eat. There beside him were two men holding out food to eat and water to drink. Thinking they must be villagers who had taken pity on him, he took the refreshment gratefully and when he was satisfied looked up to speak to the men – but they had disappeared.

The most remarkable instance of angelic succor and deliverance that he related happened when he had reached a town in Tibet called Rasa. Here he was arrested for having entered the country to preach a foreign religion. He was brought before the head Lama who passed sentence on him – a sentence that amounted to death. But the Tibetan religion forbidding them to take life, they had conceived two ways of leaving a culprit to die without actually killing him. One way was to sew him up in wet yak skins, then leaving him in the sun, which caused the yak skins to shrink, crushing him. The other was to cast him into a dry well, cover over the top and leave him there. In either case, there was no taking of life by human hands, since the forces that caused the yak skins to shrink or the body in the well to die through hunger and thirst were not under their control, so they were innocent.

The method chosen in Sundar’s case was to cast him into the well. He was hustled there, the iron cover unlocked and removed, and he was pushed over the edge, down into a pit so foul that his very soul recoiled. The bottom of it was covered with dead men’s bones and rotting flesh and the stench was almost overwhelming. Then what little light had penetrated was shut out as the cover of the well was replaced and he was left in darkness.

It was for worse than anything he had ever experienced before. No one had accompanied him on this trip; he was in a country where he was unknown, and he realized that humanly speaking his situation was hopeless. There was no possibility of help from any human source, and this time the inner joy he had known in times of persecution was missing.

“My God, my God…. why have you forsaken me?”. The words of Jesus on the Cross came to mind but without the comfort of conscious fellowship. Why, oh why had God brought him to this place of horror and left him there?

Hours passed – how many he had no means of knowing. His arm had been wrenched as he was cast into the well, but the physical pain was as nothing compared with the anguish of his soul. In relating the story ears later, he said he was in that well for two days and nights, and on the third night, he heard a sound above. The cover of the well was being removed and then a rope was let down and a voice told him to take hold of it. Summoning what strength remained in him, he slipped the noose under his arms and was slowly drawn up, to sink on the ground, conscious, only that he was gulping in fresh air at last. Weak as he was from hunger and thirst, his body craved air more than anything was. As he breathed it in, he felt himself strangely revived and the pain in his wrenched arm had gone. But he was alone. There was no sign of his rescuer.

The following day, back in the village, news reached the head Lama that the Sadhu who had been thrown down the well was out again preaching. Again, Sundar was brought before him. How had he escaped, the head Lama demanded, but all Sundar could tell him was what had happened, and that he had seen no one. Furiously the Lama asserted that someone must have stolen the key to the well and ordered that a search be made for it. No one was more taken aback than he was when it was eventually found on his own girdle.

This was very alarming. Some superior power was evidently at work, and the head Lama did not like it. It was something he could not combat. He gave no further order for Sadhu to be arrested, but told him to leave the district immediately. Sundar felt he had no option but to comply and left.