September, 1942
THE K I NG ’S BUS I NESS
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but I believe You will.” Like that, the burden was gone. “Casting ali your care upon him;'for he careth for you,”. she murmured softly, and fell . asleep. * * . # . The November skies were darken ing with storm, but Judy did not notice it as she dodged other pedestrians on the crowded city walk. Spring \yas in her heart if not in her surroundings, and her heart sang a continuous paean of praise,as she swung along. In her arm she held her worn pocket- book, tightly, yet almost.-caressingly. Inside was tucked an envelope con taining $150.00, and she was on her way to Uncle John’s to pay off the loan, one month before she had prom- ised! Surely that $150.00 was of more value than its monetary worth, for -lt was a t o k e n of her heavenly Father’s loving care of her. The fjrst day that she had found a strange envelope in her box at school would live in her memory a long time. She had opened it while the elevator crawled upward and had paled as she drew out the contents and saw the folded bills with just the brief message, “I believe .the Lord wants me to give you this.” “What is it—bad news?” one of the girls had asked quickly. Judy shook her head. “No, not bad news—good. But it was rather sud den.” She had told ■no one Of her need. Who could have -known? There was no name,, no clue, and she had never known from whom had come the gifts that she had received since then. There had been times of worry and doubt-times for which she felt re buked. But there had been the bless ing! °f learning to trust God com pletely. It was June, 1942. Judy sat alone in the tiny room that had grown very dear to her. Before her on the study tab le ! a small black notebook lay opened.,There seemed to be nothing unusual about the neat entries on the page, but to Judy each item rep resented a special time in 'her life when God had undertaken for her. The small black notebook was a record of those times of sorrow and of joy—times when she could see no ray of light On the path ahead until God had taken her the next step. One February morning in her first year at school had been such a time, represented now by the second entry in her notebook. She had not ceased to marvel at God’s special provision of the $15(100 in the fall, when a second emergency had struck—with out warning, except for the tired, dragging feeling she h a d fought against for several weeks. [Continued on Page 357] J i
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recognized the Lord’s will for her, and Judy’s heart had been full of joy. But from that peak of joy, she had been plunged to the valley of near despair. She knew, now, though she could not see it- then, that God's hand had been in her sudden^ illness, in her being whisked out to California with the family of a doctor friend, and. in her'subsequent meeting with a student of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles. In that friendship, Judy had learned many things of the inter denominational school w h e r e the ' Word of God was .taught to youth. Clearly and unmistakably, it came to her that this was' the place of God’s choice. But her letter home, telling of her decision to stay in Los Angeles, brought a storm of protest around ■her ears—protests so intense it left her amazed and puzjled. Her parents ■were professing Christians, though Judy had recognized, for some time, that Christ did hot have first place in their lives. Her mother had 'agreed to her going to the other school. Why was she, opposed now? If she lived to be a white-haired grandmother, Judy knew she would never forget the battle bqfween her desire to please her mother and that of doing the will of God. The Word said, “Children, obey your parents in; the Lord': for this is right. Honor thy father and mother.” But it also said, “He that loveth father or mother more than me is, not worthy of me.” In the end, with a breaking heart, she had written that she believed God had led in her decision and she must obey Him. She had expected no reply from her father -"but,when her mother’s letters stopped, the hurt went deep: Cast off, she was cast more on God. She had never known what it meant to look to Him for financial supply before. And when Uncle John had of fered her the $150.00 initial fee re quired at the Institute as a deposit for expenses of room and board, she had taken it-as of the Lord. She had wanted to sign a note for the money, but Uncle John had laughed teasingly at her suggestion. He couldn’t have known then that he would need, it so soon, she guessed, but it certainly had put her in a difficult position. She should have waited on the Lord longer, to see His will more clearly, she admitted. She dared not add any more hours to her already full sched ule of employment outside school hours. What was she to db? Suddenly a great quiet filled her heart. She did not know where it had come from except that God had given it. “I am beginning to see,” she whis pered". “I must lean Wholly upon You— rest all my burdens with You. I don’t know how You will provide in this,
choice.. Fear lay cold within her as she hid herself in her room that eve ning. The crowd had gone too far and now they were faced with a law suit over a stolen car. “I had nothing to do with it,” she tried to assure herself. But in her heart she knew that she would be counted guilty with the others because she belonged to the crowd. In penitence she had sought the Lord. She hadn’t prayed for so 'long— it had seemed strange to approach God. But He, alpne, could help her. She dared not go to her parents. “Oh, God,” she promised, “if You will only straighten out this mess I’ve made of my life, I’ll serve You all my days.” * * * Judy smiled tenderly at the memory Of her thirteen-year-old self making that promise to God. “But I meant it, then and I mean it now,” she said soberly, “I do want to serve You; only I seem to stumble so at it.” - The room was dark now and her roomihate slept quietly. Judy half envied her and wondered briefly whether Gladys ever had such bur dens as she did. God had not let her forget her promise, made in her need at thirteen. How could she forget,’ she thought now, when He had straightened every thing out for her? Still, she had wanted to put off the thought of the mission' field for a while. Then one Sunday at . church, the minister had pleaded' long and earnestly, feeling a definite burden for some one who was resisting God’s leading. To Judy’s sensitive mind, his words and his long index finger seemed to point straight to her. She felt God’s conviction, and there and then she had surrendered her life with no reservations. She had .never lost again the vision of serving Him in Africa. At first, her family had treated her decision lightly, giving her no en couragement—sure she would forget it when she was older. Then, .whether because of her decision, Judy never knew, her father during a fit of tem per had disowned her. She had lived at home until she had finished high school, but it was understood that she would leave after that and would only return home when she was in vited. H With all this, Judy’s purpose did hot waver. When her mother did not object to her going to a Bible school of her denomination, she was moved to hope that her mother, at least, had
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