Did God Fail?
One winter day stands out like a boulder in my life. The weather was unusually cold and finances were exhausted. My husband was away much of the time, traveling from one district to another. Our boys were well, but my little Ruth was ailing, and at best none of us were decently clothed. I patched and re-patched, with spirits sinking to the lowest ebb. The water gave out in the well, and the wind blew through cracks in the floor.
The people in the parish were kind, and generous too; but the settlement was new, and each family was struggling for itself. Little by little, at the time I needed it most, my faith began to waver. Early in life I was taught to take God at His Word, and I thought my lesson was well learned. I had lived upon the promises in dark times until I knew, as David did, who my Fortress and Deliverer was." But now it was different.
My husband's overcoat was hardly thick enough for October, and he was often obliged to ride miles to attend some meeting or funeral. Many times our breakfast was Indian cake and tea without sugar. Christmas was coming. The children always expected their presents. I remember the ice was thick and smooth, and the boys were each craving a pair of skates. Ruth, in some unaccountable way, had taken a fancy that the dolls I had made were no longer suitable; she wanted a nice large one, and insisted on praying for it.
It seemed impossible; but, oh, I wanted to give each child a present. It seemed as if God had deserted us, but I did not tell my husband all this. He worked so earnestly and heartily. I supposed him to be as hopeful as ever. I kept the sitting room cheerful with an open fire, and I tried to make our scanty meals as inviting as I could.
The morning before Christmas, James was called to see a sick man, I put a piece of bread in his lunch-it was the best I could do-wrapped my plaid shawl around his neck, and then tried to whisper a promise as I often had, but the words died away upon my lips. I let him go away without it.
That was a dark, hopeless day. I coaxed the children to bed early, for I could not bear their talk. When Ruth went to bed, I listened to her prayer. She asked for the last time, most explicitly, for her doll and for skates for her brothers. Her bright face looked so lovely when she whispered to me, "You know, I think they'll be here early tomorrow morning, Mama," that I thought I could move heaven and earth to save her from disappointment. I sat down alone, and gave way to the most bitter tears.
Before long James returned, chilled and exhausted. He took off his boots; the thin stockings slipped off with them, and his feet were red with cold. "I wouldn't treat a dog that way; let alone a faithful servant," I said. Then as I glanced up and saw the hard lines in his face and the look of despair, it flashed across me that James had let go, too.
He took my hand and we sat for an hour without a word. I wanted to die and meet God, and tell Him His promise wasn't true; my soul was so full of rebellious despair.
There came a sound of bells, a quick stop, and a loud knock at the door. There stood Mr. White. "A box came by express just before dark. I brought it around as soon as I could get away. Reckon it might be for Christmas. 'At any rate,' I said, 'they shall have it tonight.' Here is a turkey my wife asked me to fetch along, and these other things I believe belong to you." There was a basket of potatoes and a bag of flour. Talking all the time, he hurried in the box, then, with a hearty good night he rode away.
Still without speaking, James found a chisel and opened the box. He drew out first a thick red blanket, and we saw that beneath it the box was full of clothing. It seemed that moment Christ fastened upon me a look of reproach. James sat down and covered his face with his hands. "I can't touch them," he exclaimed; "I haven't been true, just when God was trying me to see if I could hold out. Do you think I could not see how you were suffering? And I had no word of comfort to offer."
"James," I said, clinging to him, "don't take it to heart like this; I am to blame, I ought to have helped you. We will ask Him together to forgive us."
"Wait a moment, dear, I cannot talk now," he said, then he went into another room. I knelt down, and my heart broke; in an instant all the darkness, all the stubbornness rolled away. Jesus came again and stood before me, but with the loving word, "Daughter!" Sweet promises of tenderness and joy flooded my soul. I was so lost in praise and gratitude that I forgot everything else. I don't know how long it was before James came back, but I knew he, too, had found peace.
"Now, my dear wife," he said, "let us offer our thanks." Then we began to examine our treasures. It was a wonderful box. There was warm clothing for each of us, sufficient to keep us warm through the winter. Down in the center, was a box. We opened it and there was a great wax doll. I burst into tears again; James wept with me for joy. It was too much; and then we both exclaimed again, for close behind it came two pair of skates. There were many other needful things and a ten-dollar gold piece.
It was then past midnight and we were faint and exhausted even with happiness.
You should have seen the children the next morning: the boys raised a shout at the sight of their skates. Ruth caught up her doll, and hugged it tightly without a word; then she went into her room and knelt by her bed.
When she came back she whispered to me, "I knew it would be there Mama, but I wanted to thank God just the same, you know."
"Look here, wife." We went to the window and there were the boys out of the house already and skating on the ice with all their might.
My husband and I both tried to return thanks to the church in the East who sent us the box. Hard times have come again and again, but we have trusted in Him; dreading nothing and having never so much as a doubt of His protecting care. Over and over we have proved that, "They that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing." (Ps. 34:10). -Selected
FAITH PUBLISHING HOUSE
P. O. Box 518, Guthrie, OK 73044
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