“WILL YOU GO?" "Preach the Word!” “Will you go?”
| IKE TRUMPET TONES came the final call of the Lord as I hovered between life and death ‘Now will you go?”
Feebly, in that bare hospital room which had been designated as my death chamber, I gasped:
Yes, Lord, I'll go.” se of my ul temblor shifting the channel of a stream
‘Those were the four words that changed the c life like a pow
Have you ever had a secret tucked away in the closet of your Christian experience which you shrank from exposing to the sunlight of public gaze and criticism? Have you, in relat ing your experience, been tempted to take a hop, skip and jump over your deviations from the straight and narrow path of God's best and perfe will for you?
Such would be my case, if it were Lord has r ot for the fact that the ade me to long that each step of my experience may be a blessing and an encouragement to someone, and that he or she may profit somewhat thereby,
It is so easy to tell of the times when we have lived in victory, run the heavenly race without a single falter, and when God has blessed us and made us a blessing. The hours of de. feat, when we stumble in the darkness by the way, however, may be of more blessing to that one who may be groping his
80 way back to the light of God's will for his life, than any other experience could possibly be.
‘The Lord had been wonderfully with me through the ordeal of my husband's death, subsequent events, and my return to the homeland. My parents had grown lonely on the farm, and had moved to New York, where they were living in a small apartment.
Of course they were overjoyed to see me again, and made me feel as comfortable and welcome as possible, but nothing seemed the same. The little girl of the farm now was a mother with her baby; she yearned for a home of her own.
I tried to help in meetings, for it never occurred to me to seek consolation outside of the Lord and His work. At times the awful waters of loneliness through which I waded, however, seemed as though they would roll over my head.
The year which followed my return home found me battling against the swift contrariwise tide; struggling to keep my feet, and to take up the broken thread of my life where last left off, I made several trips from New York to Chicago— where the dear people of the mission where Robert and I had worked together still carried on—and then back again, trying to find comfort and consolation in memories. I even traveled back to the farm, but it was too bitterly cold for the baby, and I did not remain there for long.
My work in the mission meetings necessitated taking with me, and often keeping out until midnight or perhaps one and two o'clock in the morning, my baby daughter. Eventually she became very ill, and expert advice warned me that I would be responsible for her life if I did not “get her a Lee home and proper food, as the constant moving about and the changing diet would result in certain death.”
‘The long walks home through the quiet streets following the meetings caused me to feel even lonelier. I would pass store windows in which were displayed pictures of a proud father bending over a sweet little mother with a new-born babe nestled in her arms. A lump in my throat would choke me. If Robert could only have lived to see our daughter's face, even for just a minute, I might have borne it better. On the way to the meetings, we would come to a busy intersection; roaring traffic swirling by us. I would gather the baby up into my arms and look xiously for an opening in the traffic. Next to me a gentleman would take his lady's arm and escort her across the street to safety. My eyes would be blinded with tears,
Loneliness; oh, the terrifying grip of it; and my daughter's dire need for a home and better care than I could give her without one; first one and then the other thought would prey upon my mind.
To top it all, wherever I went among those who knew me, my heart was constantly pierced with questions from wellmeaning people who could not see the will of God in our call to China, and who felt there must be a mistake somewhere, either in Robert's sudden death or my return home. I could not answer them, not being able to see the will of God in it all yet myself. The questioning, whether spoken or unexpressed, began to wear on my nerves. It appeared as though the Lord permitted those I loved best to draw aside the arms of comfort and assurance that had been before so strong and dependable, causing a little curtain of reserve to drop between us.
The loom of my life seemed then to be but a tangled maze whose colorings had suddenly plunged from mountain tops of sunlit glory to the depths of a seemingly endless valley of bewildering gloom. It was only after I had watched, in the sueceeding years, the steady flying to and fro of the shuttles of de tiny, ever guided by the tender wisdom of the hand divine, that I began to see the head and form of the Master being woven upon the loom of my life It was just at the time of my greatest perplexity, when I had ‘un to lose out spiritually and wander away from the Lord and was longing to make a home for the baby, that I married again. Before the marriage took place, however, I made one stipulation, wherein I told my husband that my heart was really in the work of the Lord, and I would go back into that work if ever the call came.
It was not long until I discovered that earthly things wealth, home, comfort, security, shelter—did not satisfy, if a person was out of the will of God!
A dozen times a day I would look into my mirror, tearfully, and take myself to task for my restlessness,
Now see here, this will never do! What right have you to fret and pine like this? Just see those shining, polished floors, covered with soft thick rugs. Just look at the richly carved mahogany parlor furniture, and the big comfortable beds; see the fine bathroom done in blue and white, the steam heat, the softly-shaded electric lights, the baby’s crib with its fluff and ribbons, the high-chair and rocking-horse. Why aren't you glad to have a home like this for the babies, as any other mother would? This is what you wanted.”
Time after time I would try to shake off the lethargy and depression which engulfed me by keeping as busy as possible. Such a fever of restlessness came upon me that it seemed as though I must wear the polish off the furniture and the floors by dusting them so often.
One source of comfort to me was the addition to our family of a baby son, Rolf. His coming should have given me all the more reason to desire a home and security, and I would say to myself, whenever the urge to launch out into the work of the Lord came upon me:
"You can’t consider it; it's too ridiculous for you to even think about it. Remember, if you found it hard with only one baby, what do you suppose you would do now with two on your hands?”
In desperation I would pray, attempting to throw off the burden that seemed to descend more heavily each passing day:
“Oh, Lord, You understand, You know I cannot go. I will work here in the local mission, and that will suffice.””
But the scripture repeatedly came to my mind, “Jonah rose up to flee unto Tarshish from the presence of the Lord.” The call of God was upon my soul, and there was no getting away from it! * As time passed by, my nerves became seriously affected—so much so, that even the singing of the teakettle on the stove, or the murmur of voices in the room was unbearable! I hated the sunshine, and wanted to keep the shutters closed and the window-shades tightly drawn, Becoming very ill, I underwent an operation, but grew worse instead of better. Complications set in—heart trouble, stomach hemorrhages, intense nervousness. The doctors said that another operation would be necessary. The home that I had thought to enjoy narrowed down to a bed, from which my pain-wracked head viewed my pitiable condition. As I look back now upon those days, I wonder if Jonah had as rough a passage as I, when he took that trip to Tarshish! His trip was not as long as mine, that I know! The account says that he paid his fare, and I certainly paid mine to the uttermost farthing
The second operation was put off and put off, in the vague hope of trusting God for my healing. But I knew full well what the trouble was, and that I would not be healed until T yielded to His will! Every time I would pray for healing, the words throbbed in my brain like a trip-hammer:
“Will you go? Will you preach the Word?”
Doubling over with a scream one day, I was rushed again to the hospital. Appendicitis, the doctor said, and an immediate operation would be necessary. While preparations were in progress I prayed earnestly from my valley of despair:
“Oh, God, please take me home to be with You! It doesn’t seem possible for me to go back and I certainly cannot bear it to go on. I am a misery to myself and to everybody around me.”
Five operations in one were performed on me that day, and I came out from under the ether feeling more dead than ali As was the case following the first operation, I grew worse and worse as the hours and days rolled by.
One evening, after a nurse and doctor had been in almost constant attendance at my bedside all that afternoon, three young internes came in and, gathering me gently in their arms, carried me, mattress and all, into the separate room where people were taken to die.
A hurried telegram brought the family to my bedside; they were informed that all hope for life had been abandoned, The physicians were through, they had done all in their power to restore health, and this was the end.
About two o'clock in the morning the nurse beside my bed murmured: “Poor little girl; poor little girl.” With those words, she began to recede slowly into the distance, though I strained my eyes to see her, The fluttering breaths which I could take were too painful to go deeper than my throat, Everything grew black, Someone said, faintly, “She's going!”
Then that one last ringing call, which I shall never forget-—
“Now will you go?”
I knew it was “GO” one way or the other! With the little remaining strength I possessed, I gasped inaudibly:
“Yes—Lord—I'll—go.” I passed into a momentary state of unconsciousness, and when I awakened again I was surprised to find the pain had vanished and I was able to take deep breaths without the agony formerly experienced. I found, too, that I was able to turn over in bed without the slightest pain, and proceeded to do this, much to the alarm of the nurse!
In two weeks, to the amazement of everyone, I was up and about—completely well—although still rather weak in body.
The Lord had spared my life under a definite promise that I would serve Him fully. Foolish as the idea seemed to my loved ones, I informed them I was going to strike out for Nineveh—I had had enough of Tarshish—without a moment's hesitation, live or die, sink or swim, come what may, praying for divine guidance and filled with a determination never before experienced!
Wasting no time in carrying out my promise, I packed my suitcases and, with a baby under each arm, set out for my “Nineveh” —wherever that might be.