May 1931
199
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
A Tribute to Mother B y P . W. P h ilpott (Los Angeles, Calif.)
ous of all my thoughts of her gather around the morn ing when I faced the world for the first time as a babe in Christ. A great change had come into my life the night before, when I had had a soul vision of Jesus dying for me on Calvary. The ne?ct morning I wanted above ev erything else to tell my mother what had taken place. But every time I attempted to speak, something hindered. The words would not come. When I sat down to the breakfast table, I was faced with a problem of which I had never dreamed. I suddenly felt I could not eat un til I had offered thanks to God. When I saw my broth er about to begin his meal, I spoke quickly, although with fear and trembling. “ Hold on, boy,” I said, “we are go ing to pray this morning!” Since then, I have had a thousand tests in my Chris tian life. But I am sure that I burned up more energy in that first attempt to witness for Christ than in any other emergency. I thought surely my mother was dis pleased, and I began to upbraid myself for being a fool. I wanted to run—to hide—to do anything that would get me away from that table. But when I pushed back my chair to leave the room, my mother came to my side. She placed her hand tenderly on my shoulder and said, “Do not leave just now, my son. I want you to do some thing for me.” My little Scotch mother made no profession of sal vation at that time, but she was a wise parent indeed. She left the room and in a moment returned with a book in her hand. It had a brass binding and a brass clasp. It was the Word of God. I learned to know more about that Book later, but at that time I knew nothing what ever .of its contents or of its importance. Mother opened the Bible and placed it beside my plate, saying, “I want you to read to us every morning from this Book and have family prayer.” I had never prayed. What should I do? -Well, I could read, at least. I started right in at the chapter that was open before me. It was the tenth of Romans. I read it through, and I must confess that I wished there were more verses in it, because I knew that following the read ing I must pray, and I did not know how. The chapter ended, we knelt beside our chairs .for prayer. I do not know what was said, but I know that God’s presence was so real that it seemed that the win dows of heaven had been opened. I think that at no other time in my life have I been more conscious of the nearness of God than I was in that first family prayer hour in our humble Canadian home. The night before, on my way home, I thought about the world with which I had been in fellowship, and about the boys with whom I had been associating, and I won dered how I could ever face them as a Christian. But now, as I arose from my knees, I felt neither fear nor dread. The consciousness of the presence of God and the fact that my mother was with me gave me courage to face any trial that confronted me. (Continued on page 215)
Mother Strength and dignity are her clothing; And she laugheth at the time to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom; And the law of kindness is on her tongue. She looketh well to the ways of her household, And eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children rise up, and call her blessed; Her husband also, and he praiseth her, saying: Many daughters have done worthily, But thou excellest them all. —Proverbs 31:25-29.
EXT to the “name that is above every name,” no sweeter word was ever spoken than that of mother. In childhood, it is the first word that we lisp; in death, it is frequently the last that we utter. The name has been a thousand times more precious since Jesus Christ the Lord was born of a woman and called her “mother.” He gave to womanhood a dignity and a sanctity unknown be fore. This was often evident during His days on earth, and especially at Calvary. “There stood by the cross of Jesus his mother”—and at the last, His thought was of her. Tenderly He committed her to the care of “the dis ciple standing by, whom he loved.” In so doing, He taught the great lessons of gentleness and consideration which men and women who would follow Him must not ignore. In most homes, Mother’s Day is every day. A mother’s devotion to her husband and children is cease less ; her gentle ministrations know no end. “What is home without a mother?” It has become a custom to set aside one day each year on which to show special honor to motherhood. On these occasions there comes, especially to the older men and women among us, a flood of happy memories—thoughts of childhood days in the old home. Personally, I would not care to be a child again, except in the matter of innocence. I am looking forward, not backward, for “it is better on before.” Mother is in heaven now, and many loved ones are with her. I am anticipating a great reunion in the heavenly abiding place— A home where none are sick, or poor, or lone; A place where we shall meet our own. Retrospect is pleasant. As I think back through the years, I recall many things that my mother did for me by way of comfort, help, and cheer. But the most preci-
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