LOOKING back over almost nineteen years of suffering, it is inexpressibly wonderful to trace the way by which God has led me and drawn me closer to Himself.
From a child the story of Jesus and His Love, and all the Bible stories that Christian mothers delight to give their children as such rich treasure, were dear to me, and when I was about the age of twelve years, I gave myself to Jesus at a children’s service. But it was not until lying ill a few years later that there was in my heart a full and joyous realization of being saved and consecrated to the glad service of Jesus my Saviour.
A great love of books was always with me, and there were wonderful dreams of winning scholarships and going to College; of doing great and wonderful things, not only to help the dear home folks, but many others.
Mother’s health made it imperative for me to leave school at an early age to help at home and to ease Mother’s labors of love. Yet still the deep longings and dreams remained, and, deepest of all, the longing to be true and pure and beautiful in my life, and to love and serve Jesus my Saviour.
Often, when retiring to my own little room, I have sat on the deep seat leading into it, with a candle beside me, to read my Bible; then kneeling in prayer, and pouring out some of my longings. Then at the age of seventeen, when life seemed to be opening out in still greater wonder and beauty, I began to be ill. Slowly and almost imperceptibly at first, the illness came on, and before my eighteenth birthday I was lying on my back, much wasted, much weakened, and in constant pain, yet with a big hope that in time God would raise me up to serve Him again in active ways.
Meantime, I tried to serve Him lying still, by patience and courage, and in homely little ways. I could at least be the family mender and patcher! Whenever possible during the summer months I was wheeled to an evening service... One day when lying in bed reading a little magazine published by the C.S.S.M., I felt the joy of the Lord filling my heart to overflowing, and such deep gratitude and love because He loved me and gave Himself for me. It was a time of fuller, deeper consecration and the joy of the full assurance that my Saviour had died to save me, and had called me to glorify Him even in suffering.
In 1912 we left the dear Surrey home and came to North Buckinghamshire. That year I was able to sit up (after two years in a splint), and to move with crutches a little, also to be wheeled out sitting in a chair.
The next year I was in hospital for a time, and since then I have had to lie still. The hope of getting well still remained. At twenty-one there is a great desire not to look forward to a life of lying still. Yet I wanted only His will. All through the year of 1915, with the terrible strain of War, and my two brothers going to France, I became worse, and early in August of that year I was completely confined to bed, and have not been able to leave it since.
For two-and-a-half-years I could not read or write, and each night it seemed as if the frail body could endure no more pain and weariness, and each morning how could one face another day? It was only possible because the tender strength of the Great Physician was perfected in my weakness. Kept by His Power, resting in Him, all things were possible. When the news came that my beloved younger brother was reported “Missing,” it was only by God’s sustaining grace that lying still and bravely enduring did not become quite unbearable.
Reading and writing are possible once more, to my joy; but at what cost only the Lord of all can know. Prayer and faith and His Word mean tremendously much to one of His wholly dependent shut-in children; but Jesus Himself is infinitely more precious than all.
May one be permitted to draw the veil from some of the wonderful experiences of the spirit? One night, after an exhausting day during a time of added illness, I was longing for a little sleep. My kind doctor had sent some medicine to ease a troublesome cough, and mother did not like leaving me alone, but I begged her to go to bed, assuring her that all would be well, and that I should have some sleep. Reluctantly father and mother left me. A little later such a wonderful sense of. Someone strong, tender, and glorious, close beside me, filled my whole being with peace. I could see no form, no glorious vision, but most surely I felt the precious comfort of His Own Presence, the tenderness of His upholding, and in that soothing comfort sleep came for two hours.
After that it was all easier to bear — the pain, the weakness, the lying always in one position.
Another night, some years ago, during great pain, with the knowledge, too, that mother was becoming very worn with the strain of my illness, and father seemed to be verging upon an attack of bronchitis, I lifted up my heart to God, bringing the burden to Him. Quite soon I noticed that father’s cough ceased, and I felt that sleep had come to him. He did not become worse. My own pain was still racking, but there was the peace that passeth all understanding simply filling my heart, and again it was possible to endure all things.
Again, in 1925, during a severe heart attack, when the pain was agonizing for a time, and the dark valley seemed very near, the enemy drew near to taunt with one’s sin and unworthiness, but One stronger yet came nearer still, and swiftly to my soul came the sweet assurance, “In Jesus,” “With Jesus.”
Words and space would fail to tell all that Jesus is to the writer, and all that He will be to the trusting soul. I have proved that “He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds,” and that when He appears to be taking dear and precious things from one’s life, He is actually giving immensely more.
I have proved that the Lord gathers and upholds in His Everlasting Arms, as tenderly as a father gathering a tiny, weary child.
I have proved that He is a Saviour mighty to save and keep, and that only in the light of His Cross do we realize our sin and uncleanness and deep unworthiness, and the measure of His redeeming love.
I have proved that the Holy Spirit fills us with joy and peace and power, and that the comfort of His Presence is very real. And so to Him, “Whom having not seen, we love,” be all praise and honor for the glory of His Grace.
Mabel Jeeves, 1928 (Radiant Gleams).