Voice Across Time
Myra L. Hall Wilhelm
Table of Contents
Preface
Down across a bridge of eternal truths, Annie comes to us out of a small, dusty book called Sweet Sixteen. The author, Annie Bird Andrews, tells of her search for happiness, and truth. Her little story is vital and true although long out of print. We acknowledge and value this personal account. Our present generation of teenagers could, we believe, find it relevant and profitable.
We have, therefore, adapted this little book to our present writing, taking care to leave Annie’s thoughts, words and actions intact. Occasionally we have put words into her mouth to bring out thoughts in the original book. We have also taken liberties to bring other characters in her story alive by direct conversations based on impressions given by Annie in her account, and have sought in every way possible to make them the real live people that they were.
The modern young folk in the present story are real youngsters as well, and the incidents related of them are true.
It is our prayerful trust that you not only enjoy reading our little book, but that you will also find it inspirational. May Annie’s life and message have an impact upon all who read these lines so that you, like Annie, may go beyond the “threshold” of Christianity into living happy, fruitful lives for our Lord Jesus Christ until He comes.
“Grandma” (M. L. Wilhelm)
Miss Annie - Let Her Bloom: Chapter 1
Fresh sea breezes from the open door gently stirred the draperies as Grandmother settled herself a little wearily beside the picture window. She had been instructed to "watch, WATCH," because her little Miss Betsy was to skate down the front sidewalk demonstrating her newest skill. Sure enough! There she comes, her vibrant, little body zigging and zagging like a “pro.”
“Neat! Huh, Grandma! Did ya see me even turn around down there too? Course I kinda fell down—but...”
“Great coordination and balance for your age, Honey. You are a bit shaky yet though, so watch it.”
With a nimble flip of the tiny body, she was off to the corner to watch eagerly for her next older sister Ginger. She was determined to talk her into taking her to the development swimming pool.
Already the children were getting out of school. Small groups were seen chattering, chasing, and all the usual things children do when free of the classroom. The younger ones were natural and sweet, but as the high school students began to drift by, it was quite a revelation to Grandma.
Some of the sporty autos even took the corner on squealing rubber. In fact, her own oldest grandson had, a few moments before, roared home on his motorcycle, stopping for a snack between school and his afternoon job. Even now the microwave was musically signaling the readiness of his burrito. With a satisfied grunt, Joshua (Josh) draped his six-foot-one-inch body over the living room chair and casually asked, “How are you doing, Grandma?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “You sure you won’t let Mark and me go surfing tomorrow?
I don’t have to work in the morning, and____”
“And your father said you weren’t to go surfing this week while I’m here,” she laughed. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“Yes, but Grandma! You know it was just ‘cause he knew you’d worry—and—well, Mark and I can really handle ourselves out there. Nothing ever happened to us before. Please?” he pleaded.
Grandma sighed. “This one always tries harder,” she thought.
Seeing only a firm shake of her head, Josh, a bit ungraciously, propelled his body erect and grabbed his helmet. Buckling up, he shouted, “See you about seven. Save dessert!!” Varoom! Varoom! and he was gone.
Now back to the window and the sights and sounds of modern youth. A few portable machines called “Ghetto Blasters” jangled harsh rock music as some young folks jigged and shouted homeward. Although the neighborhood was thought to be conservative, anything from shorts, blue jeans, and mini skirts to the new long, baggy, slouchy look adorned the girls. A strange arrangement of multi-colored hair occasionally appeared, or a youth with a “Mohawk” haircut. Many puffed cigarettes, but a few looked refreshingly normal. Now Grandma had just been reading a little book she had thought to share with her five grandchildren during the six days or so she was to have their care. (Her daughter had gone on a business trip with her husband.) Inwardly groaning, Grandma wondered how she could possibly get across the grand, basic spiritual truths which the book contained to this fast-moving, new generation. How to even get them all together was a problem. A challenge indeed!
Suddenly a crash and clanking of skates signaled Betsy’s appearance at the door. Undaunted, the little lady picked herself up and turned to the small friend with large, sad eyes who had followed her home. Excitedly, the words tumbled out, “My Grandma says I have great ‘cordalation,’ and, but—you have to go home now. Grandma, I can’t get this old skate off and Ginger’s almost home! Hurry! Go home, Kathy.”
Hardly hearing Betsy, Grandma turned to Kathy. “I’m sorry, dear. Would you like a cookie?” Sad little Kathy knew that her only playmate was “dumping” her, and now she must go home and watch TV. This was her day to visit her Daddy and his new wife. Tomorrow she would be shunted back to her Mommy.
“What a mixed-up world!” Grandma thought as she handed the cookie jar to this little victim of a world whose values are all off course.
At last Ginger and Betsy had gone to the pool; second-oldest grandson Mark, also a six footer, had swung home on his skateboard, snacked, played with his cockatiel, and chatted cozily like the friendly, easy-going lad he was, and silence now suddenly descended upon the large house.
“Whew! Now’s my chance to finish getting dinner ready,” and Grandma scurried to tie on her apron. Looking at the clock, she calculated, “Let’s see—is it four o’clock that Crystal’s bus comes? But she’s no problem!”
Just as Grandma was putting the frozen casserole in to heat, Crystal happily greeted her at the door. She was hurried, yet cheery as she plopped her pack of books down on the large family room table. “Homework, homework as always! Okay if I do some now? Then I’ll help you.” Giving her grandmother a warm hug, she went on, “Are you very tired? It was so nice to remember on the way home that you’d be here!”
Grandma found it hard to stop looking at Crystal as she bent over her work, soft curls tastefully framing flawless features. Earnest eyes, sometimes gray, sometimes green, looked off somewhere as she struggled with her problems. Life had not been easy, for Crystal wrestled daily with the condition called dyslexia. Special school, hard work, and a patient spirit had paid, and she was coping nicely. The one with the most problems—the one you might expect to be cross and frustrated! How Grandma loved her!
Time ticked on and the family room was again a beehive of activity. Over the clatter of shifting plates, glasses and wiggling bodies, Grandma laughed. “No one in this family suffers from a poor appetite! It’s too bad Josh has to eat hamburgers at his work, but we’re waiting dessert for him. I promised. He’ll be home about 7:00. (Then I’ll introduce Sweet Sixteen to them,” she thought.)
The girls had just rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, when an insistent “Skirk! Skirk!” was heard outside. Translated it meant, “Josh is home! Quick, open the garage door for me!”
“He’s always making us rush around for him!” grumbled Ginger as she went to comply. They heard her yell in the garage, “Hurry up, your highness, and get in here! We’re almost ready for apple pie!”
Any seventeen-and-a-half-year-old lad can excuse a little bossiness if apple pie is involved. “Make mine a la mode!” he countered.
Presently, all were happily seated around the table enjoying apple pie and ice cream.
“Now children, I plan to spend a little time on a book I brought along. It’s an old-fashioned story, but___”
“Great!” interrupted Ginger enthusiastically, “Oh, Grandma, I love old-fashioned stories! If you don’t finish it tonight, could I have `dibs’ to read it myself? I can read anything! Please? Please?”
“Well, dear,” Grandma answered hesitantly, “this book is a little different. I prefer to take a chapter each night and___”
Now Josh was the only one who didn’t appear too thrilled with the story suggestion. His look had said to Grandma, “This could be boring.” He remarked dryly, “What she’s trying to say is, that this is ‒ er ‒ ah—boring and we can’t take too much at a time.”
“Oh, Josh! You make things hard for me!” Suddenly Grandma felt quite old and tired.
But Josh did have a tender heart. “I’m sorry, Grandma. It’s just that ‒ well, I’ve read almost all your books ‒ and ‒ and I do have some homework.”
“Yes, I know. This will go along with our Bible reading. I can guarantee, however, that you’ve never read it, because, as I said, it is old and long out of print. You’ll please sit for the first chapter tonight.”
After a little silent prayer, Grandma began. “The name of this true story is Sweet Sixteen, and it’s about a young lady named Annie.”
“All right!” enthused Crystal. “Grandma, you know I’ll be sixteen in two weeks!”
At this exact moment, Mark’s cockatiel came alive with a shrill wolf whistle (you know, the kind boys call to pretty girls?). The timing was perfect and everyone laughed. “That dumb bird!” Mark exclaimed. “Now there will be no stopping him! Wait—I’ll cover him and put him in the next room.” They left with the bird giving forth repeated cries of “pretty bird” and his continuing wolf whistle.
"Sweet Sixteen. Sounds good, Grandma!" approved Ginger.
“Yeah,” offered Josh loftily. “You notice it’s `Sweet’ Sixteen. You’d better listen hard, Crystal, and it just might do you some good. A little might even rub off on Ginger.” Josh was enjoying the fire beginning to glow in the girls’ eyes.
“Grandma, make him stop!” sputtered Ginger. “He’s always putting us down or making fun of us!” Turning accusing green eyes on her brother, she lectured, “You can cause a lot of damage. I just read in a book how terrible a complex one brother gave a poor Indian girl by always calling her ‘Double Ugly.’ You might be hurting us ‒ a ‒ a ‒ psycho ‒ psychologically!” she finished triumphantly.
“Hmm—‘Double Ugly’ ‒ I must remember that,” Josh twinkled wickedly.
“Aw, knock it off, Josh! Everybody knows Crystal’s not ‘Double Ugly’ or sour either one! Why don’t you both just be quiet and let poor Grandma talk!”
“Thank you, Mark. You give me a ray of hope. But before we begin, I notice little Betsy is yawning a lot. Ginger, dear, would you dress her for bed upstairs? Then she can snuggle here on the couch while we read. We’ll wait."
For once Ginger dispatched her assignment “on the double” and Betsy gratefully settled on the family room couch.
“First, I want to have a little chat about us people—human beings. I think you are old enough and quite mature enough to find it interesting. I want each of you to think a moment about the question I will ask, and offer your suggestions. Apart from food and shelter, what would you say are the very basic, the most important needs of every man, woman and child—old or young? Put another way, what must every human being have in order to feel happy and content?”
The answers came presently: “To be loved;” “to feel secure;” “to know where you’re going.” Then to everyone’s surprise a sleepy, “You need to know ‘bout the Lord Jesus and how He’s gonna take us up to heaven,” came from little Betsy. Everyone laughed. “That’s our Betsy! It’s her very favorite subject, Grandma,” explained Crystal. “She used to wonder how the Lord’s hands could be big enough to catch us all up at once and if we’d leave a big hole in the roof.”
“Nope!” offered Betsy. “Mamma said we’d slip right through like Jesus did.”
“Very right, Betsy dear. Any more ideas?”
Josh had not said a word since being told to be quiet. Now he cleared his throat importantly and offered, “How about being a great surfer?”
“Humph!” snorted Ginger. “Just ignore him, Grandma!”
“Yeah,” drawled Mark. “He’s maybe too—too immature, huh, Grandma?”
Grandma leveled unsmiling eyes at her oldest grandson. “This is a serious discussion. Are you up to it?”
“Good night!” defended Josh. “I was just kidding. Don’t everybody eat me up! Can’t a guy kid a little?”
“That’s just the point. Grandma is treating us like we are serious grown-ups. Now let’s act like it.” Crystal said firmly.
“Well, if you want my real answer to your question, Grandma, it’s that a person needs to be understood. No one around here understands me, that’s for sure!” And Josh looked like a storm cloud.
“Oh—more than you might think, dear,” Grandma answered with a small smile. “I had three just about like you to bring up.” Then assuringly, “Josh, we are trying and we do love you lots.
“To continue now,” went on Grandma, “as the story unfolds, I want you to see if you think the basic needs of this old-fashioned sixteen year old were met. Also think—is she really so different from us? Then there is a scripture we sometimes hear quoted or read: ‘Buy the truth and sell it not.’ This she did. I want us to consider what it means.”
“Oh, Grandma, excuse me,” interrupted Mark, his clear blue eyes troubled. “I know this sounds pretty stupid, but, well—how can anyone ‘buy the truth’? I thought we weren’t to work for salvation.”
“No honest question is stupid, Mark. The 'stupid’ thing is to sit there and pretend you know, or worse, just plain not care. Remember your skateboard when it was stolen at school a while back? I can still hear your anguished cry: `That board cost me hours and hours of hard work last summer!’ You didn’t get it easily, so you really valued it. A person who has earnestly sought to know the truth of God, and searched it out in the Word, isn’t going to lightly give it up just to be—say—more popular and get ahead in the world. If he did so, that would be like ‘selling the truth.’
“By the way—what is truth? Pilate asked the question of Jesus. Many think it is a mysterious, unreachable, profound ‘something.’ The simple fact is that the truth is a person, and He was standing right before Pilate’s eyes. Jesus had said, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life,’ you know. To know Him is to know “The Truth.’ Now there is a whole range of wonderful things, revealed by the Lord, included in what we call the ‘truth of God.’ It includes knowledge of Him, the Church revelation, and many precious treasures revealed in His holy book, the Bible.
To give up these truths for some earthly reason would be ‘selling’ it.
“Now let us join Miss Annie in her search for happiness and the truth. I will say that this young woman seems to have learned more in her sixteenth year than many people learn in a whole lifetime. We surely ought to profit by her interesting little story, don’t you think? Here goes. Chapter one is called ‘Let Her Bloom,’ " and Grandma began reading.
Best friend Emily and I lay across my chintz down comforter in the upstairs bedroom. The afternoon was uncommonly warm for that time of year (early March), and we actually had my window open. A gentle breeze lazily stirred my pink-flowered chintz curtains. I remember as if it had been yesterday. Altogether it was a dreamy, happy time of life for us and we were enjoying it in fullest measure. We had been dreaming a-plenty too, I assure you, and planning as well. You see, Emily’s older sister Harriet was to turn eighteen in two short months. And what a “coming out” ball was being planned! Most of us from the better families of our city, in those days, were given such an introduction to society. This event was usually the beginning of an exciting whirl of entertainment—theaters, balls, musicals, parties and such ‒ all in our best society. Of course it was to be hoped that before long “Mr. Wonderful” would come around, be completely charmed and carry us off to the altar. Then we would live happily ever after in some fine home. Marriage was “it” in those days, and the girls usually married rather young. Yes, the future spread out rosily before us. It was dazzling to think of myself in a lovely rose taffeta which I hoped to wheedle my mother into getting for me. I wanted pink satin slippers too. No more high button shoes at a party for me. That, of course, would mean dropping the dress length and I would look a grand young lady for sure. Father had seen to it that I had dancing lessons and knew how to carry myself. Of course, Mother would hedge a lot on the cut of the neckline and plead for a plainer style and material. My mother always dressed very conservatively—even plainly.
“Why is your mother always so strict and reluctant to let you go to parties?” asked Emily presently. But before I could answer, she went on, “She and some of her Methodist friends are so well, different. On the other hand, there’s Mrs. DuPons, also a Methodist, and even I thought she had too many jewels on for church, and that sweeping feather with a bird’s nest in her hat besides!! Really, it was too much. What I’m saying is, your mother surely has something that many of those ladies lack. However, I do wish she’d let you wear a velvet suit and not complain about our constant talk of the ball.”
“Oh, my mother is so religious! If it weren’t for our father, my sister and I would have a dull life, I can tell you. I heard them talking the other night when they thought I was occupied with my French lesson. ‘Oh, Henry,’ Mother was saying, ‘I do wish you would go to church with me more often and encourage our Annie some in good practices of religion. That girl is getting so giddy and foolish over the glitter of the social world. You indulge her in everything she wishes and I fear it is turning her head. I had so much desired that she would make the decision to become a Christian and a good Methodist before she was caught up in all of that.’ "
"Really?" queried Emily. "And what did your father say?"
“Oh, he was positively superb! Emily, he actually said, ‘Amy, my love, once and for all, stop worrying about these things! With a mother like you and the church training she has had, I’m sure Annie will be all right. And, my dear, let me say that I absolutely refuse to try to make a stuffy, Bible-toting religionist out of that girl! Let her have her youthful pleasures! She’s only young once. I’ve noticed that Annie is very popular with the young ladies and gentlemen, and I for one, enjoy seeing her blossom. Sweet sixteen it is, all right. Just let her bloom!’
“My mother left the room going on about rearing a veritable heathen for all he cared and that her only recourse was to the higher authority—the throne of Grace! Now what do you suppose that means?”
“Annie,” Emily said soberly, “I think it means she’ll pray for you. Do you ever ‒ worry ‒ just a little about ‒ well the judgment day and all that? My Aunt Hetty gets after me the same way wanting me to accept Christ and be saved. She’s Presbyterian, and you know my father is an elder.”
“Oh! I mean to get saved later on, of course! Who doesn’t? But I’ve read many stories about death-bed conversions. There’s always time later on. Hardly anybody dies without a death‒bed scene ‒ calling in the loved ones, last words and all that. But how morbid! Here we are talking about death beds, and we need to decide how to do our hair for the ball!”
Settled in bed that night, I could not quite shake an uneasy feeling about - well, the “throne of Grace.” Father might overrule Mother on these matters, but God? The thought was unsettling, to say the least. Nothing, however, must hinder my enjoyment of the ball.
“There, children!” sighed Grandma. “You have had your introduction to Miss Annie Sweet Sixteen! Who can tell me now ‒ what did Annie think could make her happy?”
“ ‘The ball,’ ‘Parties,’ ‘Pleasures of the world,’” the answers came quickly.
“Yes, but I betcha her Mom and God win!” This from Mark. "'Member Grandpa’s story about the Christian professor from Stanford?” Mark was so attractive when his blue eyes sparkled and he smiled all over his face. “Let me think ‒ oh, yes ‒ he was telling everybody how wild and rebellious he had been, but that he had a grandmother who always prayed he’d be saved. What did he say now, Grandma?”
“He said, ‘I want you rebellious young folks out there to know that if you have a praying grandmother, you haven’t got a chance!”
“‘Ray!” cheered Ginger. “I agree. Annie doesn’t have a chance to go her own way! Good-bye ball!”
“To be continued tomorrow night. Now off to bed or homework with you! Mark, help me get Betsy upstairs to bed, and then I’m going to call Grandpa.” With that Grandma dismissed them. She was pleased to see a downright-pleasant face on Josh as he said a cheerful, “G’night, Grandma! Gotta go do my homework!”
Damned? Chapter 2
“Now that everyone is agreed and agreeable, shall we see what has become of Miss Annie?” It was evening time and Grandma was talking as she pulled her glasses and the book from her large apron pocket, and began to read:
A diversion—a new thing had come to our city. Everyone was talking about it. Revival meetings in churches were not new, but this—well, this was BIG. Religious services were never held in theaters, but all were invited to attend in no less a place than the large Metropolitan Hall which had doubled for theater and opera house since that building had burned down. Furthermore, no collection or admission fees! This was indeed strange. Handbills and advertisements were all over town, and many planned to attend, if for no other reason than curiosity. I suppose because of my frivolous state, my mother determined to attend, and me with her.
Well, the next day, when I was upstairs in my bedroom still fuming inwardly about that experience, my mother called up to announce a visitor for me. I promptly scurried down the stairs.
“Emily! How glad I am you came! My lessons are just finished, so let’s go to my room and close the door before Mum finds another meeting for me to go to!”
“Oh, Annie! I heard you had to go to the BIG meeting. What was it like, anyway?”
“Well, to begin with, I didn’t like it, and I left quite upset and shocked.”
“Honestly! But whatever happened?”
“He, Mr. Alexander Marshall from Scotland, (he did roll his r’s in rather a fascinating way) talked about, let’s see___. Oh, by the way, that Mother of mine had to march right down to the front rows. Some of our people from school were there. Imagine! I felt my face growing quite pink. Well, I do remember a verse on a cotton lantern that said something about believing or not believing and being condemned already if you didn’t. Could it be? Even before the judgment day? Anyway, it’s seared in my mind, for it was in bold red letters. I brushed it aside, pro tern, but every time I shut my eyes I see it. I can even remember where it is found—John 3:18. That Scotchman was thundering out ‘Eternity where? Young man, where will you spend eternity? Young woman, where will you spend eternity?’ And he actually pointed at people! Had he pointed to me, I’m sure I would have swooned dead away on the spot. Oh—and they had this notion about having two speakers because of a Bible verse, ‘In the mouth of two or three witnesses every word shall be established.’ The second preacher was a young, dark, rather attractive English chap. (But wait until you hear more about him!) His name, I think, was Richard Irving. Anyway, he’s the one who approached me afterward (kindly enough at first, I must say). I was standing, waiting impatiently for Mother. You won’t believe what he said to me!”
“Oh dear, Annie, what did he say?” Emily was spellbound.
“He asked me straightaway, ‘Have you made up your mind to be saved?’
“ ‘No!’ I replied.
“Then he quickly asked, ‘Have you made up your mind to be damned?’ Imagine! I turned on my heel and stalked over to Mother. ‘Come on home!’ I said grimly. ‘They use swear words up here!’
“Mother looked rather stricken. When I told her about it in the cab on the way home, she almost appeared amused.
“ ‘Well, darling, it is in the Scriptures.’
“There’s no understanding her sometimes. But I did not find it amusing, I assure you.” Turning to Emily with narrowed eyes, I continued, “When I said my prayers last night, I asked God not to let me die before I was saved.”
“Oh, Annie, you didn’t! Isn’t that like—well—oh, do be careful, Annie!” She seemed a little shocked.
“I do so want to enjoy the ball—and a little life,” I blurted out, tears close to the surface. Somehow, the charm of the ball was eroding. Emily rather weakly suggested that maybe we shouldn’t put it ahead of everything. Our delight in planning fell flat and she left early. I heard soon after, that she also had accompanied her Aunt Hetty to the Metropolitan, for the meetings were still in progress.
At breakfast the next morning, Mother informed me that I was to have a house guest soon. Spring holidays were near, and I snapped wide awake at once.
“Your cousin Hortense Simpson and her college friend Miss Curts (our pet name for her was ‘Curtsie’) will be calling. Friday, I believe, Hortense leaves for her home and Curtsie asked if she might stay with you, Annie, during her absence. You know that they have lodgings with their music teacher from Albert College. She, it seems, will be away. They are such fine ladies,” Mother went on. “Both have asked for membership and have been received on probation into the Methodist church. They are older than you, but their lives are well ordered. You would do well, Annie dear, to consider and follow their regular Bible reading habits, and faithful church attendance, to say nothing of their sober ways. I believe our Hortense’s father is a minister and Curtsie is, as you know, engaged to a minister. They tell me that they have been enjoying the meetings over at the Metropolitan, although they say they are quite puzzled over the Scottish preacher’s insistence that we can KNOW that we are absolutely safe for eternity. I noticed that too in the sermons. They claim, among other Scripture verses, that 1 John 5:13 proves it. I have always been taught that one must hold on to the end, and not until that time could one know one is sure of heaven.” Turning to Father, she raised her voice and asked, “What is your opinion, Henry, dear?”
Now my father had his face buried in the Daily Tribune. “Oh, yes, yes, yes, my love,” he answered, folding up the paper. “I—well—I lost you there, but I must indeed run along to the office.” He had pulled out his gold watch, pecked Mother on the cheek, and left rather unduly fast, I thought.
The prospect of entertaining dear Curtsie and Hortense was not particularly exciting to me. They were talented music students, however, and I thought to enjoy them over the piano somewhat. They both sang like angels—at least so it seemed to me. (I know now that angels do not really sing.)
I was definitely not pleased when Friday rolled around and they appeared to take me off to another MEETING. My French lesson was spread out before me, and I pleaded my case as best I could, to no avail. It seems a cab had been called and was arriving very soon, and after the meeting Hortense would continue on to the train station. Curtsie was to come home with me then. Inwardly fuming, I put my lesson away. Suddenly I remembered that we were supposed to carry a Bible to the meeting. And it wasn’t even Sunday! My father had said that people thought you a little unbalanced in the head if you carried a Bible on weekdays. Naturally I didn’t want to be seen doing it, so I rummaged for a small white one and arranged to wear an ulster (overcoat). Slipping the Bible in the roomy pocket, I covered it well with a handkerchief.
In the cab on the way, I heard with chagrin that these women were actually intending to inquire further after the meeting and get assurance of salvation if it were to be had at all. “They are taking mean advantage of me!” I pouted to myself. “I had no idea ‒ I will not get involved with these preachers!”
One of the speakers that day was Mr. George Groves of Australia. He spoke on the twenty-third Psalm, stressing “The Lord is my Shepherd.” Not a shepherd, or a good shepherd, but my shepherd, denoting relationship. The only other thing I remember besides these comments, was his discourse on the “two footmen.” “Any man,” he said, “could be considered wealthy to have one footman, but to have two footmen would indicate great wealth. Every Christian possessed two—Goodness and Mercy—for the last verse of the Psalm says ‘Goodness and Mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.’ "
At last the service was over, and sure enough, my friends desired an interview. A Mr. A. S. Rolph sat with cousin Hortense on the bench opposite us, and Mr. Groves seated himself by Curtsie and me. At once she sought to know how assurance might be obtained.
Need I tell you that I put some space between us? I couldn’t quite turn off my hearing, however, and bits and pieces drifted my way. It went rather like this:
Curtsie: “I do not feel saved... tried to live a Christian life... gone to church, etc, etc.”
Mr. Groves: “You are looking to the wrong place. If you want to see the sunset, where would you look? In your heart to feel that it was set?”
Curtsie: “No, I would look at the sky in the west.”
Mr. Groves: “Right! If you want to see your sins washed away, where will you look? In your heart?”
Now she had, as many of us, learned the verse in Sunday school, “Look unto ME and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth, for I am God and there is none else.” This verse flashed before her, and I glimpsed such a look of ecstasy as I had never before seen on her face.
Curtsie: “Why no! I would look at Calvary—‘Unto Him who was nailed to the tree!’ HE DIED FOR ME! Oh! is that all? And here I’ve been doing, working, praying—and it’s all DONE!”
So uneasy had I become, that I had nearly slid off the end of the bench. If only that cab would come! Glancing over at Hortense, I saw the same look on her face! She had red spots in each of her cheeks, and I could see her lips forming the words, “Why! Is it as easy as that!!”
No longer able to sit quietly, I drifted toward the door. Then to my horror, Mr. Groves slipped over and greeted me with, “Are you interested also?”
“Oh, no,” I carelessly replied, giggling as I tossed my head.
If he had only known the storm raging within my heart! As any girl knows, a giggle can hide a lot of feeling not necessarily compatible with a giddy giggle.
At last the “all aboard” sounded and we were summoned to the cab. The girls were exuberant, sharing their newly found joy, and I sat glum and miserable. Now at every true conversion, I believe that there are always two others present beside the one under conviction. One is, of course, the Holy Spirit of God, convicting and pleading; the other is an emissary from Satan. Within my breast, these two now waged a battle. I began to think, prompted by the Spirit of God, “Why can not you also be as happy as they are? You want to be saved someday. Why not today?”
Then the Dark One whispered, “But the Ball—the fun in life you deserve and wanted so much to enjoy!”
“Oh, if only the ball were over!” I groaned. “But there is yet time, surely?”
Now the Spirit suddenly brought to my remembrance a sad tragedy which had occurred only recently, but I had shoved it to the back of my mind. A young schoolmate had gone home for lunch and had suddenly died of a weak heart. “But,” I argued, “my heart isn’t weak!” Immediately, however, the Spirit caused me to question myself, “How do you know?”
“Horrors! I just might not live for that `someday!’ " I exclaimed to myself.
Suddenly, it seemed as if the Lord Jesus Himself were saying to me, “Annie, will you have ME, or the Ball—WHICH? NOW!”
Oh, the electrifying impact of that question! My TIME had come! Eternal life, or eternal death? Christ or the party? To refuse Him was unthinkable! “Lord Jesus,” I cried, “I will have YOU!” In a flash I knew, “I am His, and His forever!” Joy and light poured into my soul such as I had never before known.
Full of my wonderful news, I turned to my companions and bluntly announced, “I’m saved now, too.” Believe me, I was totally unprepared for their reaction.
Hortense gasped in a shocked manner, “Oh Annie, please don’t make fun! It’s too solemn—too serious a matter!”
“But I tell you I am! Really!”
“Oh, darling Annie, please don’t!” Curtsie exclaimed shocked. “How can you talk so, dear?” Had I remembered that only minutes before I had callously tossed my head and giggled as I had turned away from the servant of the Lord, I would have understood their doubtful attitude. How could they believe me? I insisted some more, but they resisted as before.
Well! The train came in, but before Hortense boarded, I heard her whisper to Curtsie, “Oh, if she would only be quiet!”
Oh the way home, however, I was able to get Curtsie to listen as I told my experience—just opposite a hotel as we traveled down Main Street. But I had always been a good actress. This she knew and felt that I must prove myself.
Upon reaching my home, we ran right into Father. I couldn’t keep the news in, and joyfully sang out, “Father, I’m saved! I’m a Christian at last! Where is Mother?”
“Humph!” he sniffed. Then he called after me as my skirts disappeared down the hallway, “I’ll give you two weeks!” Poor Father. He had seen a good many revival-meeting professions fizzle, and he was skeptical.
But Mother—now she was a different story. She herself knew the great Savior and His love. Had she not earnestly prayed for this moment? From her I received a tender, loving kiss and “God bless you, my child.” At last someone took my salvation seriously!
“There!” exclaimed Grandma, laying down her glasses and closing the book. “She put up quite a battle, didn’t she? But, Mark, you and Ginger were correct. God and Mother won the day. Tell me, children, do you think that she now longed to attend that ball?”
“No, Grandma,” quietly answered Crystal. “You read that she had never known such joy. Anyway she chose the Lord.”
Josh had seemed very serious and thoughtful. Now he opened up, “I sure wish my friend Joe would get saved.”
“Joe who? Not Joe Deguchi?” Mark looked interested. “What a great surfer he is!” Pausing, he went on, “I saw you and him talking down by the rocks last Saturday morning.”
“Yeah, I mean him, all right. Y’know he holds a number of surfing awards, but he’s sure not much of a student. Just can’t seem to ‘hack it’ at school.”
“Oh, poor boy! He’s probably dyslexic and they didn’t help him in time!” Crystal sympathetically exclaimed.
“I’m sure! Just because you have that problem doesn’t mean every other Tom, Dick and Harry does too,” retorted Josh not too kindly.
“Well—so, maybe he does.” Mark came to her defense. “I read that at least 400,000 kids in this country have that condition—that they know of.”
“Okay! Okay! Well, anyway, Saturday I had pulled up by the rocks ‘cause I was beat, when Joe drops down beside me.”
“ `S’matter, Josh? You’re not giving up already?’ "
“ ‘Who—me? Naw! I’m just resting!’
“Joe kicked in the sand kind of aimlessly, then he said, ‘Been watchin’ yer performance. Notice ya always try to keep outa trouble, Josh. Well I like that.’ "
A strange sort of explosion was heard from Ginger’s quarter as she ducked to pick up her napkin. Josh glared her way, but prepared to continue. Grandma heard her muffled remark to Crystal, “Him, keep out of trouble? How touching!”
“Now, what’s the matter with you?” Mark glared this time. “Be quiet! I want to hear this!”
“My nose is ‒ ah ‒ needs blowing,” and Ginger blew loudly into a tissue.
Grandma looked sternly at Ginger as she thought, “Josh so seldom opens up to us these days. What a pity to interrupt with foolishness. But then—‘foolishness is bound in the heart of a child,’ " she sighed inwardly.
“Well, to try to continue,” Josh went on, “I said, ‘Thanks, Joe. I have my ups and downs. It isn’t easy.’ "
“ ‘I hear you folks are ‒ well, kind of religious ‒ go to church a lot,’ Joe continued. ‘Just what do you believe, anyway? Mind telling me?’ "
“Oh, wow!” Mark was impressed.
“He wasn’t laughing at me or anything. So I told him that first we believe the Bible ‒ all of it ‒ was God’s message to us. Didn’t hold with the evolution theory at all. Oh, I don’t know what all I said, but I brought in John 3:16 and salvation through the Lord’s death on the cross. He just listened, and pretty soon he said, `Thanks’ and went back to the water.
“He’s the kind of guy you can’t push. When he opens up again ‒ if ever ‒ who knows?”
“He must be kind of ‘neat,’ " Ginger finally conceded.
“I really am pleased to hear this, Josh,” Grandma smiled. “Did you realize that you bore some fruit for your Lord last Saturday?”
“Aw, Grandma! He didn’t get saved, or even answer me really. How can that be fruit?” Josh looked a little embarrassed.
“Oh, but it is. Christ was honored and held up as Creator and as Savior. Then, too, if your life at school had been like the young fellow in Prov. 5:14, (of him we read ‘I was almost in all evil in the midst of the... assembly’)—then you never would have had the chance to witness to Joe. However, I think we should end this session. I’m sure we all want to pray for this young man. We read in the Scripture that some planted and others watered. Praying is watering. Now let’s get on with the evening.”
Testings: Chapter 3
The next afternoon Grandma was folding a small mountain of wash on the family room table when Josh arrived home from school. Something was wrong—no spring to his step no “I’m starved. What’s to eat?” He flung himself on the couch and slouched, the picture of dejection.
“Well, I really blew it, Grandma! I mean really. Dad will ground me for a year!” With that he threw a small piece of folded paper onto the table. Glancing at it, Grandma immediately knew it was a TICKET ‒ traffic violation of some kind.
“What happened, Josh? I’m ‒ truly sorry.”
“Oh this punk kid ‒ I mean boy ‒ lives down the street ‒ begged and begged that I’d ride him home on back of my motorcycle. I gave in ‒ and I shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, dear! Did he fall off or something?”
“No, worse than that. I wouldn’t mind if he—oh well. No, this cop stopped me. He said he was checking my registration. That was okay, but then he had to ask this kid how old he was. Since he was only 14½ and had no helmet, I got the ticket. The law says you can’t ride anyone under 15½. So! I sure wish I’d kept my mouth shut,” he went on dejectedly.
“Oh, no! Josh, you didn’t talk back to the policeman did you? That’s bad.”
With a bitter little laugh Josh replied, “Oh, not that, Grandma. It’s just that I can hear Ginger now. ‘It’s so remarkable how our dear brother Josh keeps out of trouble!’ “
“You’re right. I can hear her too! Well___”
At that moment the front door was flung open by Ginger and her neighbor friend, Kristie. “I’m telling on you, like I said!” Kristie was saying. Ginger was a study in feminine fury.
“Oh, Mrs. Ra ‒ I mean ‒ Grandma, Ginger’s been bad! She pushed this boy over on the way home and ‒ and ‒ she won’t share her Barbie doll clothes or anything!”
“Oh, really! Well, I guess she can’t play now, Kristie. Good-bye for now.”
“GOOD-BYE! Big tattle tale!” fumed Ginger.
Josh had perked up remarkably. “Sounds like you’ve had a bad day, Sis,” he sympathized. “Well, kid, we all fail—lose our tempers and all that. Cheer up.”
Ginger’s mouth dropped open. He sort of—looked like he meant it.
“Thanks, Josh. I’m a terrible spit-fire, I guess. That boy has bugged me for days. I’m sorry, Grandma.”
“You can’t give him the gospel after today, can you, Ginger? Nor is he likely to ‘ask of the hope within you’,” replied Grandma, marveling at this turn of things.
Mark had quietly come home and had been observing and listening. “Something sounds unreal here, downright fishy. What’s going on, anyway?”
Josh tossed the ticket to Mark who studied it a moment, then he said slowly, “Yeah, and I heard about Ginger’s ‒ fight ‒ and well, now, it all figures.”
“Yes,” Grandma added, “We’re getting some real mutual understanding here—and ‘bearing of one another’s burdens’!”
Even Josh smiled wanly and added, “At least, I can go to traffic school and keep it off my record!”
A rather subdued and somewhat depressed little group awaited Grandma as she found her glasses after dinner that night at story time. Even little Betsy, who was missing Mommy and Daddy by now, wanted the comfort of Grandma’s lap. As she snuggled sleepily, the thumb came out long enough to remark, “Ack-shly, I wish your child was ho’ding me.” (`Your child’ was Betsy’s quaint way of sometimes referring to her mother in conversation with Grandma.)
“Well, I sure hope Annie has a better time of it than I did today,” Josh sighed.
“Me, too, Grandma. But I don’t ‘spect she lost her temper like old spit-fire me.” This from Ginger.
“Oh, so you think those old-fashioned girls didn’t have bad problems such as you have? Well, if you remember, the children of Israel are a picture of us in our Christian experience. Have you kept your ears open at the reading meeting? Some people seem to think that life for the Christian is all joy and victory. But not so! Israel had enemies to drive out in real battles when they got to Canaan. Likewise, we have conflicts. Satan cannot take our salvation from us, but he can spoil our testimony, making us useless and miserable. As I read tonight, watch for signs of conflict in Annie’s life. Here goes.”
Curtsie did not have the slightest problem in coaxing Mother and me to accompany her to the Metropolitan that night. She seemed a little surprised at my readiness to go and I often caught her during dinner looking at me with a puzzled, quizzical expression. “Can’t she believe me yet?” I sighed.
The meeting that night was simply wonderful! Every scripture quoted seemed brand new, although I had heard them since I was a small child. To add to my pure joy, I saw dear Emily across the room with her Aunt Hetty. “Oh, Lord, please, let her see ‒ show her ‒ and save her, too!” Before I could make my way to that side, however, I met another friend from our neighborhood, just my own age. Sarah was bubbling with joy as she exclaimed, “Oh, dear, Annie! Please, do come to the Savior, too!”
“Well, I did already—this very afternoon.” I replied.
She hugged me tightly and squealed, “I can’t wait to tell Mr. Grove. Oh, there he is now!” She dashed away, and since he was not more than ten feet away, I could see and hear the conversation. That brother raised his eyebrows, set his mouth in a tight line, then said, tersely, “She had better sleep on that!”
So! He didn’t believe me either! I really had put my act of indifference over with him! Just then Curtsie came by to lead me to the waiting cab. I was still happily in the clouds of fresh, new faith, but as I prayed that night, I said to the Lord, “Dear Lord Jesus, hardly anybody believes I’m saved, but—I know and Thou knowest. Please help me to prove it to everyone.” As I lay thinking it all over, I suddenly remembered the ball. “Well—there’s just no way I can go—I don’t even want to go, but poor dear Emily! She’ll be so very hurt!” Again I prayed for her salvation. “Oh dear Lord, I don’t know what she’d do about the ball—it’s her own sister’s (Dear me! whatever could she do!) But somehow, Lord, please work it all out.”
I awoke the next morning, full of my determination to prove that I was changed, a very true believer in Christ. Now my sister Sophie Jane had been away at boarding school (she was older by three years than I), and Spring holidays had brought her home for a few days. She shared my father’s views concerning religion in general and my involvement in it. We had never been close. This morning as I began to dress, I thought over my plans for the day unless Mother, of course, would keep me home because of a cold I had taken. “I would dearly love to visit Emily and tell her all about everything and see if my prayers have been answered,” I thought. Absentmindedly slipping on my right shoe (they were high-top button shoes), I began with my button hook, but lo! the top three were clean gone! “Oh, bother!” I exclaimed. “I know this was not the case last night. What is going on here?” Then I remembered Sophie Jane! Dashing next door to her room I rudely burst in. And there she was—calmly sewing my buttons on her shoes! The hussy! “You cut off my buttons—you—you, you horrible girl! How dare you! Of all the nerve—the sheer brazen -.” “Well, well,” Sophie interrupted, “and you a Christian now? You a brand new revival-meeting trophy? How you speak—and that to your very own sister!” Then smiling sarcastically, she went on, “Mother said you had taken cold and would be in today. So what’s all the storm about anyway?” The old Annie in me wanted to throw my mutilated shoe at her. Instead, I ran to my room and threw myself across the bed, watering it with bitter tears. My very first test—and I had failed with a capital “F.” “Lord, I didn’t know it would be so hard! I’m sorry—I’m sorry! What can I do now?” A still, small voice seemed to be saying, “... forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.” Eph. 4:32. Oh, so that’s it? Repairing my tear-stained face, I went searching for Sophie Jane. She was downstairs already sitting at the breakfast table. Father had not arrived and Mother had gone to the kitchen. “I’m truly sorry I was so cross and angry. Will you forgive me?” I quietly asked.
“Oh mush! Forget it!” and she waved her hand as if to say, “Why don’t you just disappear?” But I was happy!
Father came in then and looked me over remarking, “I don’t think all that religion agrees with our Annie. Mother, what are those red blotches on her face and neck?” My sunny smile belied my complexion and he turned puzzled eyes to Mother.
“Dear me! Whatever have you taken? Young lady, you will stay in until we know the cause of this—rash. You know, Henry dear, she was sneezing and had a slight sore throat last night.”
“Just too many religious meetings, if you ask me. Young folks shouldn’t be burdened with such frightening things—as—er—hell and judgment. She’ll be back to normal in a few days.” Thus he ended the subject.
“Misunderstood again! But at least I’m HAPPY!” I thought.
My cold did not prove to be very troublesome, and even Mother was convinced by the following day. Hortense had returned and she and Curtsie wished to attend the meeting again. Of course, my blotchy face and neck had been nothing more than emotional stress coming out in my skin as it typically did. Curtsie was beginning to see that I was really sincere and Hortense was happily hopeful.
Upon arriving at the Metropolitan, I looked all over for Emily—but in vain. “Has she lost interest? I must get over to see her,” I vowed. Later, when I was able to go, I learned that she was away on a little holiday trip with her Aunt Hetty.
Contrary to being bored with Christian life, I found each day brought new and interesting things. Hortense and Curtsie shared an exciting drama which they had experienced upon returning to their lodgings. The art teacher had, they knew, been trying to find peace with God in living, as they had, the very best life she could. The girls’ joy in simply resting on God’s Word and the perfect work of our Lord Jesus Christ at Calvary’s cross could not be hid. Nor did they desire to do so, but with Bibles in hand, they showed it all to this dear woman. Soon she came to the decision to stop her own striving, and accepting Christ as her personal Savior, lean wholly on His doing for her. What rejoicing together! Gone the doleful fear that the judgment day might find her short!
In the course of time, the three of us were invited by Mr. Marshall and Mr. Haines to a “Believers’ Tea” on a Friday night. They were of a group attending at an unnamed assembly hall and known to have some “peculiar” ideas, but we had been greatly impressed with their warmth and zeal for the Lord. We determined to attend the tea.
“What does one wear to a ‒ Believers’ Tea?” I asked Cousin Hortense on our return ride. I had never heard of one.
"Wear? Oh, don’t suppose we ‒ oh, just like for an ordinary tea ‒ we’ll dress in our best ‘bib and tucker’ as the saying is,” she replied.
“Best bib and tucker” turned out to be for Hortense, a stylish blue velvet dress adorned with double rows of shiny brass buttons and a large picture hat generously trimmed with satin ribbon and ostrich feathers; Curtsie was similarly attired in brown velvet, and I, the junior member of the trio, could only sport a velvet trimmed myrtle green gown with brass buttons much in evidence and a large, plush, deep-piled mohair hat trimmed with a green and gold bird’s breast in front and matching wing feathers sweeping back. Of course, we had had our ears pierced in those days, as most young women did, and we wore gold earrings, bracelets, matching brooches, besides several rings each. Oh, we were in “high fashion” to be sure!
As we entered the large room where the believers were assembled, all heads turned and we could almost hear a gasp. We had created a small sensation! Not another woman there was “dolled up” as we were, but all were very quietly, though tastefully attired. I had spent at least an hour and a half curling my bangs and putting my hair up in the most becoming way I could contrive. Most of the ladies there had dressed their hair very plainly.
But we soon overcame our embarrassment and thoroughly enjoyed the fellowship. However, rather soon after we had made our ‘grand entry,’ Mr. Marshall slipped around to a cupboard in the back of the room and produced three pamphlets entitled “On the Wearing of Gold.” He also gave each of us a copy of Kept for the Master’s Use, that lovely book written by the truly consecrated Frances Ridley Havergal. The selections were appropriate and well taken, and because we truly wanted to learn, we were not offended. I did take a quick peek at the pamphlet and I just couldn’t repress a little giggle at how far from the proper attire of women “professing godliness” we were. We thoroughly enjoyed the Reading Meeting which followed the tea and left feeling that we carried good things away, both in our hearts and in our hands.
I couldn’t wait to read the pamphlet and had a head-on collision with 1 Timothy 2:9,10. “In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array; but (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works.” What does it mean? Must I really take it literally? Why have so many professing Christian women completely ignored this passage? Isn’t this God’s word also? Surely He must expect obedience in this scripture, as well as in those which had brought me such joy and peace. Well, I decided, I must talk it over with Mother tomorrow. I suppose, perhaps, I subconsciously thought she might be able to explain it in such a way that I could get around the obvious.
Mother, however, was unable to explain anything away. In fact she said that early in her Christian life she had decided to leave the Episcopal church, where she was brought up, because of their worldly ways. The Methodists appeared in those days to be a more godly living people. In fact, many women would not take the sacrament wearing flowers or jewelry and some would place gold bracelets or their solid silver on the collection plate for orphanages. All this explained my mother’s plain attire which used to bother me a short time ago. Mother was quite smug and pleased to dwell on the teachings of her church on this subject, yet she readily admitted that very few women paid the least attention to them. The latest fashions were much in evidence—jewels and costly array. Mother did, however, say that she had once been told that an excellent translation rendered “shamefacedness and sobriety” as “modesty and discretion.” She thought that to dress in good taste, but modestly, so as not to be conspicuous, was acceptable.
Well, what was I going to do about it? “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.” (John 10:27) came before me with force. To obey would be to show I was His sheep—a real sheep mark (somewhat like an `identifying brand’), if you please. Slowly the rings, the earrings, the bracelets, and the locket came off.
At this point in the story, Grandma paused, “Have you seen the Annies of our day putting these things on again?”
The brass buttons were replaced in single rows with less gaudy ones. I sought my mother’s aid with the hat. We removed the feathers, but the costly bird breast in front would need some replacement, for the felt would be marred. When I asked Mother for ribbons of some sort, she, to my great surprise, balked. “I’ve spent enough money on that hat!” And that was that. So the season was finished with my “half fancy” hat.
Now came the hair. I experimentally brushed out my frizzled bangs and smoothed them back. “Horrors, Mother,” I exclaimed. “My nose, my long nose! I didn’t know it looked that long!”
“Why, Annie dear,” my mother soothed, “You have your dear father’s nose, and I always thought it handsome.”
“On a man, yes,” I sighed. We parted my hair a different way and decided that when the bangs grew and didn’t keep slipping out, it wouldn’t be all that bad. So the lead curlers were tossed away.
My! There was a change! Quite noticeable. And I was noticed, believe me! On my first day back in school, I was met in the hallway by one of the young men. “Why, hello there!” He looked me over and continued, rubbing his chin. “So you are attending the meetings at the Metropolitan Hall. I hear that you even carry around a Bible!”
“Why—yes, that’s true. I have a New Testament with me now.”
My former friend hurried away.
After assembly room prayer, when I had just begun my first lesson, the teacher took one look at me and did a “double take.”
“Why, Miss Lake, what have you done? Is this part of your new religion?”
“Why, no ma’am, it’s quite old. It’s in the Bible in First Timothy.” I drew my Testament out, but was not asked to read. My thoughts raced on ahead to intermission. “Lord, give me courage to answer their questions well!” I had been a ringleader among the girls and I knew what was coming. “Heart, don’t pound so! Why is my tongue so dry! Will I even be able to speak?”
True to my expectations, they gathered round. The news had traveled to them all. I could only tell them, with the Lord’s help, how it happened and of the joy I now possessed. I urged them to take my Savior too. Some listened and lingered a bit. Others walked away and one said loudly enough for me to hear, “Oh, it’s just one of her freaks and will soon be over.”
Those would have been rather hard days had it not been for—Emily. My Emily, I must tell you about her. She, too, had come face to face with the Lord Jesus at the meetings quite the same as I had. She, too, had said YES to Him. Leave it to Emily to do things up with the right flourish. When she and Aunt Hetty returned home, she called her parents to come into the drawing room. Going to the piano she began to softly sing Dr. Bonar’s hymn:
“I heard the voice of Jesus say,
`Come unto Me, and rest;
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
Thy head upon my breast.’ "
Then she joyously sang out:
“I came to Jesus as I was
Weary and worn and sad.
I found in Him a resting place,
And He has made me glad.”
She was soon in her parents’ arms.
My cup of joy was indeed full. The cross of reproach no longer seemed so heavy.
“Well, children, what do you say? Annie had quite a problem being ‘misunderstood’ didn’t she? Josh, what did she do about it?” Grandma laid down her book.
“Hmm—just told the Lord about it, I guess,” Josh replied thoughtfully.
“Can we do likewise? You may have learned already that this certainly is the best—sometimes the only thing we can do. Now tell me, did Annie make her decisions because `everyone else does it’ or because the Word of God says it?” Grandma asked.
“She followed the Lord like His sheep.” offered Crystal.
“And Ginger! What a temper Annie had too! Were you surprised at that?”
“She had good reason to be furious! That sister sure wasn’t very nice. I don’t know—Annie was awfully brave to say she was sorry.” Ginger replied, still indignant with Sophie Jane.
“Did you notice how she was happy when she did? Which reminds me, has Annie found happiness?”
Everyone agreed that she had, no doubt about that. “Did Annie’s decision to follow ‘The truth’ cost her anything? Was she ‘buying’ the truth?” went on Grandma.
“Oh sure,” Ginger replied quickly. “It cost her jewels and all that. And she lost a bunch of friends.”
“And still she was happy? So—can we say that jewels, pretty clothes and popularity don’t do it, but knowing Christ and following His Word does?”
“Yes, Grandma!”
“Remember now, this is a true story. Good night all. I’m tired enough to sleep standing up.”
Questions: Chapter 4
The next day was rather uneventful for the five youngsters, and in the evening Grandma continued with Sweet Sixteen.
My old friends were quite displeased with me, and no longer desired my company. Emily was getting more and more involved over at the Presbyterian church. So I went on quietly attending the Methodist church with Mother although she had given her permission for me to go with Hortense and Curtsie to the assembly hall Bible readings. There I received much comfort and good Scripture-founded teaching. Mr. Marshall gave me Hosea 6:3 in those early days which I have kept for my own verse ever since. “Then shall we know, if we follow on to know the Lord.” There was so much I wanted to know. For instance, I felt I knew my eternity was secure—that I could never be lost. My mother, however, would say, “Now Annie, you can’t say for sure. You might fall away and be lost.” Oh if only I knew my Bible better—could just turn up all the scriptures for her! Slipping up to my room, I prayed, “Oh, Lord, I do not know where to find things, but how can I have eternal life, and yet fall away? Please, do show me.”
I opened my Bible to Psalm 37, verse 24, “Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the Lord upholdeth him with His hand.” I rushed downstairs to Mother. “Listen to this! If I fall, I can only fall into His Hands!" Then I had known the 23rd Psalm, and John 10:27 and 28—“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me: and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand.”
But Mother was so full of what her church taught! She then told me that we were to have important house guests who could answer all my questions. Two ministers, no less. The many branches of Mother’s church were seeking to unite and settle their differences at a large conference. “Well!” I thought, “Now is my chance to learn a lot when they are staying with us.”
One of these was quite evangelical, and accompanied me to a little mission, a wonderful, true work among the very poor. This I enjoyed. Around that time a new hymn had just come out. We all sang it heartily with these folk.
“Now we are free—there’s no condemnation
Jesus provides a perfect salvation,
`Come unto Me,’ oh hear His sweet call,
Come and He’ll save you, once for all.”
“There!” I said to this minister, “I believe I can never perish as the Scriptures say and as you have just been singing.” But he as well as all the others always remonstrated.
I went on to dig into the Word myself. I found John 1:12: “As many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God... " This was the new birth. I studied Nicodemus’s encounter with the Lord. He had to have a second birth. I had never heard or read of a third. Also 1 Peter 1:23: “Being born again, not of corruptible seed, but of incorruptible, by the word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever.” Then I read in Ecclesiastes 3:14, “I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever.” This new birth put me into a grand, new relationship—God as my Father and His Spirit giving me to cry “Abba Father.” Jesus also said, “The Father Himself loveth you.” With my new relationship, as with the fleshly one, there is correction, training and discipline, I found, “For what son is he whom the father chasteneth not?” Hebrews 12:7. Well, it was settled for me—on the solid Word of God.
The poor ministers with us no doubt found me a trial. I had the nerve to ask why babies were sprinkled when it looked to me like baptism should be a type of going down under into death with the Lord to be raised up in newness of life and that I wondered if I should be immersed. They said, “Well! Sprinkling of babies was an ordinance given to us, just as circumcision was to the Jews. They left me a stack of books to read, and one shaking his head as he left, said to Mother, “When a girl says she will or she won’t, you can’t do anything with her!” Misunderstood again! I wasn’t trying to be difficult, I truly wanted to know the truth.
Why do we have all these different churches anyway? I wanted to be with Emily and she was over at her folks’ church. How could you know which to join? Some had to be wrong. In fact, it seemed that I had not found any right.
For the Master's Use: Chapter 5
Grandma seemed rather solemn as she watched the girls clear the table and prepare for their next edition in Miss Annie’s story. Mark observed this, and asked, “Did Annie go and get in trouble or something, Grandma? You look kind of—sober.”
Before she could answer, Ginger sat down hurriedly. “Now, Grandma,” she asked, “When are we going to get to—well—in Sweet Sixteen there must be some romance or something. Isn’t `Mr. Wonderful’ due to appear pretty soon?”
Grandma laughed as Mark and Josh in one voice exclaimed disgustedly, “Good-night! If that isn’t a girl for you!”
“Oh, you children! You are so typical; you really delight me! Yes, Ginger dear, there is a love affair I would say, in Sweet Sixteen, and Mark and Josh, you will not find it ‘mushy’ I guarantee. Also, Mark, I do feel sober and I want you to be too. As I read tonight, I hope each of you will realize that as Annie faces new decisions, you, (who say you also have received the Savior) are no different. For what she found in the Word and acted upon, is there for you as well. Let’s not put Annie back in 1900, but here tonight encouraging you to follow her faith. Ready?” And she proceeded to read.
At the first ‘Believers’ Tea’ which we three girls attended, you will remember, perhaps, that dear Mr. Haines presented each of us with a copy of Kept for the Master’s Use. What an impact that little volume had in our lives! For those who do not know, let me tell you that the author was a very talented young woman with an outstanding singing voice. She later became a famous hymn writer. Now I put my Curtsie and Hortense right up there in the same class with Miss Havergal, so you see the book was ‘tailor made’ for us. Not that I could sing beautifully, but, as I was once told, I could at least ‘chirp like a sparrow.’ That put me up along with the song birds. Anyway, we made the happy decision to meet at my house on Saturday and together read one chapter. The week following, we would try to live out what we had learned. I would have loved for my Emily to be with us in it, but her parents were not willing for her to attend the little assembly readings and they busied her more and more in their own church group. I couldn’t feel sad very long now, for my Lord had made me glad. I was `espoused [promised]—as a chaste virgin to Christ.’ Well, we three had a delightful time for the first five chapters and weeks and then we hit a snag! For we read of Miss Havergal’s decision there:
“Take my voice, and let me sing
Always, only for my King.”
“How can we do that?” Curtsie gasped. “You know, Hortense, how much money our education is costing! Surely, we could—well—we are expected to make use of it.”
“Oh yes, surely,” Hortense tried to sound assured. “To disappoint our financial backers would not be right.”
“Oh no, Lord,” I whispered, “I’m not going to stop now. I want to be—always only for you!”
Our ‘happy session’ was no longer happy and we parted early on a sad note. My two ‘nightingales’ had lost their song. We spent a miserable week of it, I can tell you, for although I had no intention of compromising, my heart ached for my friends. The word 'consecration' had scarcely been in my vocabulary at all. But it was happening to me. I was making my choice ‒ all the way with Him, the Lord of my life. There may be some dear souls to whom all the things of God are unknown, who, when they do come to the Lord Jesus, find that automatically this consecration takes place. When the light dawns and they find themselves loved, wanted and accepted in Him, their hearts cry, “Oh, my Lord—my life, my all!” Others just follow on until the Holy Spirit presses the word “Ye are not your own.... Ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s.” 1 Corinthians 6:19,20 Or “Present your bodies a living sacrifice... which is your reasonable service.” Romans 12:1. Consecration, I learned later, is not so much a step, as a course—a way of life; it is not so much an act, as a position to which a course of action belongs. We are not always to stand at the threshold, but to continue on, seeking to be maintained by the Lord in that position and to fulfill that course.
Having already said, “take my life, for I cannot give it to Thee,” one must also say, “Keep my life, for I cannot keep it for Thee.” Then the answer comes from the Word, “I the Lord do keep it... I will keep it night and day.” Isaiah 27:3.
I had rather sadly settled myself the next Saturday on the floor with plenty of pillows and my book, expecting to be alone, when the old knocker on the front door downstairs sounded loudly. Before anyone could answer it, the door burst open and my friends bounded up the steps. “We’ve done it! We’ve done it, Annie!” I knew what they had done—yielded their beautiful voices and futures to Him they loved to keep and use as He chose.
Would you like to take a peek with me into the future (for that is now long past) to see how He did choose? We see Hortense at the side of her husband, a minister and professor in a men’s college, singing with full heart the songs of her Lord far into the night at many a gathering for the students. Only that day will declare how many young men made decisions for eternity as a result. Faithfully, she lived and sang “for the Master’s use.”
We see Curtsie, working among the poor in the slums of New York City, and there singing for Him she loved. Always, there are groups gathered to hear her sweet, consecrated voice. How she cheered, comforted, and brought the light to dark hearts with those heavenly strains! At last the scene changes and we see her in faraway India, “spending and being spent” from 5:00 A.M. to 10:00 P.M. in schools for the desperately needy women and children. It is there that her sweet voice is silenced—a sacrifice for “the Master’s use.”
“There you have it, children!” Grandma gently laid the little book down. “Now, Ginger, in a romance the lovers usually say something like, ‘I love you ‒ will love you forever!’ or ‘All that I am and all that I possess is yours forever!’ Did you hear any hints of such a thing in today’s chapter? Any real constancy of heart affections?”
“Oh, Grandma!” exclaimed Crystal, “I’m all ‒ choked up ‒ about ‒ Curtsie! She was something.”
“Does that part about being ‘espoused’ to Christ ‒ does that mean that Annie wasn’t ever going to marry?” Ginger asked.
“Marriages are for time, honey. Her love affair with the Lord Jesus, if we may call it that, lasted for time and into eternity. Judging from her last name, however, when she published the book forty-six years later, the Lord had given her a husband for time. But very seriously now, please think about the choices Annie and her friends made. Remember, the issues are the SAME today ‒ for you.”
"This Same Jesus": Chapter 6
The next afternoon when Grandma was serving up a snack to Josh, she exclaimed, “I’m going to have to hurry up with that story, Josh. Your Dad’s phone call last night reminded me they’ll be home before long. Have you minded hearing it ‒ maybe liked it ‒ some?” she asked her oldest grandson as he sipped a cool drink and eyed some hot nachos bubbling with cheese.
“Not bad at all. I didn’t see how us boys would want to hear about some old-fashioned sixteen year‒old girl, but I see why you thought it would be good, Grandma. I guess we need something to stir us up.”
“You are fourth-generation Christians, Josh. It’s all been handed to you ‒ all the truth ‒ and you’ve been sheltered. This is a great blessing, but—some of your generation may let it all slip away ‒ ‘sell out.’ The Lord is coming soon and it’s not long to hold fast. But you’ve got to really grasp it and make it your very own. If you do, the Lord can keep you just as He did those before us. To be faithful in the closing days will be especially precious to the Lord, I think.”
That evening before the chapter was begun, Crystal remarked, “It’s really nice to hear about those girls. They were ‒ well ‒ not ordinary like us. We can’t go off to India or sing beautifully to college boys. Wasn’t the Lord especially wanting them for Him?”
“Why can’t we go to India ‒ or Africa ‒ or wherever?” Ginger waved her hands, “Maybe I will someday!”
“You!” laughed Mark. “What’s that word, Grandma? Consecration? That’s what you’ve got to have!”
“You are forgetting about Annie, children,” Grandma laughed. “She didn’t go anywhere too special that I know of. The Lord loves ‘ordinary’ people. In fact, He told that poor woman at Sychar’s well that He was seeking something. Anybody remember what?”
“Well, He wanted a drink,” Crystal offered.
“The chance to tell her Mount Ger‒a‒a‒zim wasn’t where to worship?” This from Josh.
“Worship—you’re getting closer.” Grandma coached. “I’m a bit disappointed to have to tell you. ‘The Father seeketh worshippers,’ He told that poor worse-than-ordinary woman, and set about to win her heart for it. What do you think He might want from you and me—we who know the whole wonderful story of His love? We ought to ask ourselves, ‘Have I ever really worshiped Him in Spirit and in Truth?’ "
“Well, Annie had much to learn, so we’d best get along with her story.” Picking up the book, she resumed reading:
The time for graduations had come. We attended the Albert College affair enthusiastically, especially since “our girls” were to take first and second honors. My high school days were also finished. Something else was well over also—my two weeks’ trial time. Father predicted that my Christianity would last no longer than that. Remember? “Just another freak” had proven to be a reality. How I missed my Curtsie and Hortense, for they left soon after the exercises for their homes and futures.
“I will get a new Bible and really get acquainted with it this summer. When I begin Albert College in the fall, there will not be so much time.” I told myself.
A little paper called “The Believer’s Pathway” was put into my hands about this time. I can still remember and often repeat some of the lessons. “Keep short accounts with God; do not wait until night to sum up all the failures and shortcomings and sins of the day—confess at once; confess your faults one to another—don’t wait; confess your sins to God. Do it quickly. Be the first to accuse yourself before God. Don’t give Satan, the Accuser of the brethren, the first chance.” These were some of the things I learned.
Somewhat to my surprise and pleasure, too, that summer, I learned that my tastes had changed. Once eager to learn to play a certain waltz well, I found I had lost that attraction for it and chose a hymn instead.
“Well! You are changed.” My teacher marveled. I also found that my insatiable taste for novel reading was greatly lessened. A certain still, small voice ‒ His voice ‒ controlled me.
Since I attended the Bible readings regularly, I was helped even more in my pathway. Private reading at home was stressed and I established the habit of always having a Bible open on my dresser. I could always get a “taste” at least now and then until there was time for more. Had He not said, “Oh taste and see that the Lord is good”? A daily calendar called “My portion” was my very first “taste” for the day, as I always tore off the verse and digested it directly. Many times it was a guide for the entire day.
Mother and I had many discussions. She could not give up her idea of “enduring to the end,” never sure of her salvation. I could not give an inch on the precious truth that I was safe for eternity. Then one day I came home all aglow and full of 1 Thessalonians 4:16: “For the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.” My dear parents and sister looked at me as if I were surely insane.
“Oh, Annie! you don’t expect that to happen literally,” Mother soothed. “We know our Lord comes for us in death, dear, but I have never been taught such a thing as an appearing in the sky and all that.”
“But, Mother, ‒ it says ‘We which are alive.’ We don’t all die.” Father put his fist down impatiently. “You listen to me. Now there were some peculiar fanatics some years ago who thought that. They dressed up in white, sold all their possessions and went up on a hill to meet Him. They sang and prayed, prayed and sang, but He didn’t come. They were a disappointed lot ‒ made fools of themselves.”
“Well! of course they were foolish. The Bible distinctly says, ‘Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour.’ Anyway, they weren’t told by the Lord in the Bible to sell everything and dress in white. When He comes ‘the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first.’ " I wanted to say it over and over.
My father just looked at me. “Now, Annie, do not talk about it, or say such things. People will think you are off in the head.” He rarely let himself be troubled much about things religious, but today he seemed upset and concerned.
“Well,” I replied, “Surely those who believe God’s Word are not the crazy ones!”
I would not be deprived of this joy. Jesus my Lord was coming again! Coming in the air. Coming in the clouds! The dead were to be raised! The living would be caught up to be with the Lord forever! We were to comfort one another with these words! I looked out of my window at the billowy white clouds and wondered, “Will it be before morning?” Yes, oh yes, I’ll watch and wait! The more I read the Scriptures, the more I found about this second coming. Strange I hadn’t seen it before!
My ideas, gleaned I suppose, more or less, from bits and pieces of church sermons and my own people’s thoughts, were certainly confused regarding the future. I had always assumed that it was essential to convert the world to get it to be a fit place for the Lord to come and reign. There was to be a general judgment some day where our destinies (heaven or hell) would be decided and that the “balances” would show whether there were more good deeds than bad. Scriptures were certainly changing my old concepts. There was much I still did not understand, but one thing I was sure of: “This same Jesus... shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go into heaven.” Acts 1:11. He left in a cloud and He’ll come in the clouds. The dead will be raised first.
Why had I never heard these words at a funeral? The Apostle definitely says, “Comfort one another with these words.” He went on to say that this hope has a purifying effect. Surely it should; if I am to see my Lord face to face at any moment, I would want to clean up my life. This brought to my mind the Lord’s own parting words to go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature. This seemed to be the Church’s one business. Surely there is no escaping it! Each and all may reach at least one. I did not want to miss a single one of my opportunities, for I recalled at this time an incident in my precious Kept for the Master’s Use book. A group of young ladies were spending the evening with Miss Havergal in music and singing. There was one girl who had come, longing to have Frances tell her of Jesus. She had kept close to her side, hoping, but no words were spoken to meet her need. Miss Havergal had been very tired and just felt ‒ “Well, cannot one have a day off? Must one always be on duty?”
Later, though now happily saved, this dear woman lay on a bed of illness. Her beloved friend Frances H visited her. “Oh, Miss Havergal! Did you know that I ought to have been yours? When I was in your home that first night, I wanted so much for you to tell me of Jesus!” The Lord had used another, for He would never disappoint a seeking sinner.
I went to bed that night, disappointed in my family’s reception of these grand truths, but confident in my Lord’s words to me, His very own child. He would never disappoint me.
“End of chapter, children. Can you just imagine hearing of the Lord’s coming for the first time? You see how much you have and know that she had to dig for? She had to brave her parents’ disapproval, (even her father’s scorn), but her high esteem for the Word of God carried her on. The thing that worries me with this generation is ‒ are we going to hold on to all this treasure? In the first place, it has to be esteemed as treasure ‒ believed ‒ valued ‒ and acted upon. Right? Otherwise ‒.”
The children sat thoughtful and quiet. In a moment Crystal said, “Yes, Grandma. You know it seems that we used to be more ready to tell the gospel to other children. We did some awfully dumb things, though. Ginger, remember that little German girl at school? We really gave the gospel to her. She listened too, and wanted to be saved. We kneeled down and told her to ask the Lord Jesus to wash her sins away and that she must believe in Him and that He would do it. She did just what we told her to do."
"Yes, of course I remember. Then she asked us, 'Now what do I do?' We didn't quite know what to say—Read the Bible. Don't watch T.V. and then—"
"I know it was stupid, but I just tried to think how we did. So I said, 'And you aren't supposed to wear pants to school all the time. Oh yes—and you're supposed to go to meeting.'"
"And she said, 'What's meeting?' We had her all confused and half scared of our rules," sighed Ginger.
"As I remember your Mother telling me about it, wasn't the mother's English so scant that you couldn't communicate very well? She lived a distance away, too. Well, the Lord knew your hearts and your desire. If she was truly saved, the Lord will see her through. Speaking of scaring people—Josh, do you remember your small friend David?"
"Oh, just barely. I tried to get him converted, didn't I?" responded Josh.
"Yes, he was maybe four years old and you were about five. You waited until your Daddy came home in the evening. Then you herded him in saying something like, 'Now, David, it's time you heard about the Lord. I know you don't know my Daddy, but—Oh don't be scared (pat, pat). now don't cry—we just don't want you to go to hell with the Devil.'
"Poor David's eyes opened wide at your big, tall Daddy and then looked around wildly for the closest exit. You kept patting him and saying, 'We just don't want you to go to hell!' He ran home crying and told his Mamma you said he was going to hell. She thought you'd been swearing at him."
"I still miss the old neighborhood," sighed Mark. '"Member good ole Steve, Josh?"
"Now there you had better success!" laughed Crystal. "He said he had accepted the Lord and he used to come quite a bit to Sunday School and treats."
"Wasn't he the one who rebuked those boys who were making fun of you for being Christians?"
"Yes, Grandma." And Josh took up the story. "They were following us, acting crazy and saying, 'Oh, Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!' Steve just turned around and said really stern and bold, 'Okay you guys! When we're up there (pointing up to heaven) and you're down there, don't expect us to help you, 'cause it will be too late!' They shut up and left us alone."
"Well so much for evangelization tonight. There is more, however. Like Annie said, we ought not to just stay at the threshold, but go on to grow. Our next chapter is very important, for it deals with something very close to the Lord’s own heart. A thing that’s important to Him certainly ought to be important to us, right?” And Grandma took up her book to go upstairs.
This Do: Chapter 7
Grandma had timed her last evening alone with her grandchildren to correspond with reading the last chapter of Sweet Sixteen. “You have been good listeners, children,” she remarked, “and I hope our Annie’s story is thought-provoking. Now for Chapter Seven, the very last one.”
My father was rather disturbed with my leanings towards the assembly-hall Christians whom he considered very strange. When I was so concerned over the “sprinkling” versus the “immersion” question regarding baptism, he came to a meeting for the baptism of some believer and took me home—greatly to my humiliation. His reason was that mother was upset. Needless to say, my face turned scarlet and I had some rebellious feelings to overcome. I was under my father’s roof, however, only sixteen years of age, and I knew my place was to be subject. It comforted me to read how the Lord Jesus, when His parents sought and found Him in the Temple at that early age of twelve years, returned home with them and was “subject to them.” Thankfully, my father did not forbid me altogether, and I was still able to attend the readings. But I went faithfully with my mother to her church as well.
The summer was now over and I was to enroll at Albert College. My distress about the many churches was brought sharply to a head as I sought to fill out the entrance form. To what Church do you belong? There was a gaping blank space for me to fill. I had not joined any as yet, but I felt that I should put something down. For I had learned at the hall and in the Word of God that there is but one Church, the body of Christ, and that all true Christians were members. Furthermore, according to Acts 2:41,42,47 the Lord Himself did the adding. And praise His name, He had added me! What should I say! In my searching of the Scriptures, I had found a verse, “The legs of the lame are not equal.” This helped to balance my thinking regarding the many churches. If I have not all the truth, I am still lame. A church with even one point of doctrine contrary to God’s Word was, in effect, lame. He called me by no name that would separate me from other Christians. Are we not one? (The believers, true disciples, were called Christians first at Antioch.) Our Lord said, “One is your Master, even Christ, and ye are all brethren.” What was I to say? The urgency of the need to be a witness, pressed upon me and I felt my face coloring. Time was passing and I felt rather stupid to be taking so long. I could just say, “none” but that would sound—well, irreligious. The easy way out would be to say, “Methodist” or merely, “Protestant.” I must be honest, totally. At last I crowded in the words, “to the only one there is—Body of Christ.” The staunch church woman who went over my form called me to her for questioning. She was frowning as she said rather impatiently, “But, Miss Lake, to what branch? Your Mother is a Methodist—are you?” I was just about to open my mouth when she quickly wrote something—I think “nondenominational” down and dismissed me. That, I did not like either, but since the matter was closed, there was nothing I could do about it. I had felt the coldness in her look and voice. “Well,” I sighed, “this is reproach for my Lord, and I ought to rejoice. I’ll just have to win that official’s esteem by my behavior and scholastic work.”
I was soon going to be seventeen. My! I did feel grown-up. A small breach had begun to form between me and my darling mother, since we had disagreed on points of Christian truths. She felt it keenly at times, and I was sorry. But she often told me of her relief and joy that I had chosen not to be a social butterfly. Father, on the other hand, had wanted to see me blossom into a graceful thing of beauty, whom he could be proud to see moving prettily in the best circles of our day.
One day, as Mother and I were having a cup of tea together, I broached a subject dear to my heart. “Mother, I would so much like to attend a Sunday worship service at the assembly hall, but I would not go without your and Father’s permission. I would only observe. They have seats in the rear for observers.”
“I don’t know what your father would say,” Mother answered thoughtfully. “I felt sorry that he was so harsh as to bring you home that day. I know it embarrassed you greatly. However, I can’t tell you how pleased I was with your behavior in taking it so sweetly. Your father and I have appreciated it, and he may, perhaps, have regretted his harshness. I will speak to him, Annie, and do what I can.” She sighed and said, “I suppose one cannot fail to see the `handwriting on the wall.’ Your heart leans to them. They are fine Christians.”
To my real surprise and relief, Father agreed to allow me to attend the meeting for worship. “She will go eventually, I suppose. We may as well face it,” he had muttered.
I went!
No pulpit in evidence, no choir, no organ, no preacher! At the fore part of the hall was a table spread with a white cloth, a loaf of bread on a plate, a glass of wine, and a folded napkin covered the wine. Seats were placed all around the four sides of the table. Several chairs were at the back of the hall, where observers or unsaved people sat.
All who surrounded the table were Christians, those who claimed to have had a new birth.
The Christians entered softly, almost reverently, all quietly attired, the men with heads uncovered and the women with hats. No chairman or leader! “For where two or three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them.” Matthew 18:20.
Well, they were gathered together in His Name!
All sat with bowed heads, when one man arose and prayed, “that the words of their mouth and the meditation of their hearts would be acceptable to God,” and that their worship and praise would be unhindered as they sought to keep this feast in remembrance of Him, according to His request.
Then another arose, and gave out a hymn of praise.
Another brother arose and read the twenty-second Psalm, referring to the sufferings of Christ. I had never heard anything like it. (Oh, do read it!)
It was too much for me. I was completely overcome—I wept! Ashamed to weep? Ah, no! I am only ashamed when I can ever read it without weeping. I was not the only one who wept, either, if handkerchiefs were any evidence.
Oh, to think that my precious Savior endured so much for me!
The psalm begins with the words uttered on the cross: “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me? why art Thou so far from helping Me?”
“Oh My God.... but Thou art holy,” did He say? It was my load of sins that made Him cry out there.
Oh my soul,—can you take it in?
And He bore it all for me!
He could speak of help given to others who cried unto God, and deliverance was given unto them. But He said He was a worm and no man! He was laughed to scorn—they ridiculed His trust in God, saying, “Let God deliver Him now.”
“They pierced My hands and My feet.
I may tell all My bones:
They look and stare upon Me.
They part My garments among them,
And cast lots upon My vesture.”
All hearts were subdued, and adoration and worship must have flowed out for such a Savior!
After a pause, another brother arose, went to the table, and giving thanks for the bread, broke the loaf—a memorial of His body given for us. He handed the plate to the one on the end seat, and it was passed from one to the other, each breaking a piece and eating it. Then the last man placed it on the table.
Thanks was given for the cup, a memorial of the blood shed on Calvary’s cross, and each drank thereof.
Then a hymn of praise was given out and voices poured forth in thanksgiving.
The collection plate was then passed among themselves as expressed in 1 Corinthians 16:1. This was the first time I had ever seen or known of a collection taken up at the little hall.
At this point, another brother arose and read some scriptures, giving earnest exhortation as to the responsibility to walk worthy in all their manner of living, and for each and all to be witnesses for Him, seeking the salvation of those not yet saved.mm
In closing, prayer was made for the absent, for the sick and suffering, for the gospel meeting that was to follow that night, and for Sunday school. He prayed for the government authority, and for help for each and all to lead godly lives as they went forth to their homes.
It was a wonderful meeting!
The women were silent.
The whole thing was so orderly that you would think that it had been arranged, and it was so harmonious! It really seemed to be a meeting all for the Lord Himself, except the last exhortation given.
There was a quiet awe following, as if fearing to break the spell.
What a meeting! I had never been in a meeting like it! How must our Lord have been refreshed!
I went home and told my family all about it, and got my Bible and read some of that twenty-second Psalm to them. All were very subdued. I did not feel like eating. I went to my room to think it all over, and got 1 Corinthians 11 and read through to the end of that book, finding out that that meeting to break bread had been carried out according to order given and the command is “Till He come.”
Now I had found a little company that owned no head save the Lord Jesus Christ, that owned the Word of God as final authority, that took no name that did not embrace all believers, and fully believed that “where two or three are gathered together in My name” that the Lord would be true to His promise: “There am I in the midst.” Matthew 18:20.
I could hardly wait to go again!
Yes, He would take His place as Head, and by His Holy Spirit would guide and control that meeting.
The first day of the week they came together to break bread (Acts 20:7), and you know how often the first day of the week comes.
I had read in some Sunday school paper from church a question, “For what purpose did they come together the first day of the week?” and the answer they had given was—“To hear Paul preach.” But that is not what the Word says. “The disciples came together to break bread, and Paul preached unto them... and continued his speech until midnight.”
In First Corinthians the Apostle to the Church plainly sets forth that special meeting, and gives special instructions. He starts out in the eleventh chapter, verse 3, telling God’s order: “But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God.”
“Every man praying or prophesying, having his head covered, dishonoreth his head. But every woman that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered dishonoreth her head.”
In the old dispensation, men did not appear unbonneted in public worship, but here we find that men are to appear with uncovered heads, and the women with covered heads, “Because of the angels.”
Paul says that he received of the Lord that which he passed on to the believers, “That the Lord Jesus, the same night in which He was betrayed, took bread: and when He had given thanks, He brake it, and said, Take, eat; this is My body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of Me.... For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord’s death till He come.”
“Let a man examine himself, and so let him eat.”
Now here is something to be done on the first day of the week. It is to be done in remembrance of Him! For how long a period of time? Till He come!
Chapter twelve shows the relationship of the believers to one another. The Lord calls them “one Body.” There are many members, each and all needful to the other, members one of another, controlled by the Head, each given a special gift.
Chapter thirteen—This body of believers is exhorted to covet the greatest grace—love!
Then follows the order of the meeting in Chapter fourteen: prayer, praise, giving of thanks, a psalm, doctrine, a tongue, an interpretation, prophecy, two or three men as led by the Spirit to speak, women to maintain silence. Chapter sixteen, collection—lay by as prospered the first day of the week.
“Let all things be done unto edifying.” “Let all things be done decently and in order.” This breaking of bread meeting is the only meeting I could find ordered throughout as to the day, the order to follow, what to do, and how. All other meetings are without direction or instruction as to day.
What a crowning joy, what sweetness, to end my sixteenth year with knowing that my questions, my distress over the beckonings of many churches, the hunger of my heart was at last satisfied. I could get on with my life in the shelter of the assembly, feeling that I was just where He wanted me to be. The future I did not know, but it was safe in His dear hands. He had led, would lead, and I wanted with all my heart to follow wholly.
“And there children, we leave Miss Annie.” Grandma spoke softly. “She did follow her Lord, I’m sure, for otherwise she would never have been asked to write her little story down after forty-six years. Her life in Christ took root and grew after that little prayer in the carriage, `Lord Jesus, I will take You,’ and she did not stay at the threshold, but bloomed and blossomed for Him. The blossom is the forerunner of fruit. One of the sweetest fruits she bore was that weekly precious meeting of thanksgiving and praise in answer to Jesus’ very last request before His death ‘This do in remembrance of Me.’ Remember? I told you how dear it is to His heart. ‘The Father seeketh such to worship Him.’ He sought them in that day. He sought them in Annie’s day. He seeks them in our day. He is seeking you too. Will you respond or will you go on in an indifferent way, slowly but surely losing that which was once delivered to you? For you will lose it, if you do not value it as the very truth of God delivered to your trust.”
The children respectfully and thoughtfully dispersed for their evening duties. Crystal slipped over and softly planted a kiss on Grandma’s cheek. “I’ll miss you, Grandma dear.”
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