could do something together. I wanted to get a job, but he vetoed that, and it was a good thing, for I was soon busy enough with diapers, feedings, and baths for our first daughter. I didn’t finish my last year of college, but somehow it didn’t seem so impor tant anymore. The following year Jim enrolled in theological seminary. This necessi tated several changes: moving near the new school, finding new employ ment, making new friends. Rent was high and we were away from helpful relatives and when the second baby made his arrival, we felt the financial pinch as never before. One day Jim arrived home with a troubled look. He was silent, as he always is when he has important thoughts. I waited, as I had learned to do, for them to come out. Suddenly he put down his paper abruptly and announced, “ I’m quitting seminary.” “ Oh, no,” I barely articulated. “You can’t.” This was what we had spent years working for. “What is the mat ter?” Then he told me how half the class had flunked out of Hebrew and he was afraid he would be next. “ It just takes more study time than I have. Anyway, I need to work full time now. My family comes first.” Yes, seminary was hard, and he felt a real conflict between his school and family responsibilities. What could I say? Then I remembered. “ Dear,” I said, ruffling his wavy hair, “You are almost right. But not quite. The Lord Jesus comes first. He has brought us this far. We want to serve Him more than anything. Your schooling is necessary for that, so don’t you believe He can help us through?” And the Lord did help us through. I cared for a neighbor child to supple ment the budget and Jim worked and studied long hours. It took him an extra year, but graduation day finally came. I couldn’t climb to the balcony for a good seat, for my twins were due any day, but I watched from the back row of that vast auditorium as Jim mounted the platform and received his sheepskin. Our tenth anniversary will be com ing around soon. And they have been wonderful years. Not long ago, as we sat in the living room of our parson age, we found ourselves passing on the same advice to the starry-eyed couple before us. “ Things will not always be as rosy as today,” we said, “ but we can give you a proven formula for success. In all matters regarding your marriage, simply place the Lord Jesus first, the welfare of your mate second, and your own desires third.” 'M rs. McClellan is the w ife of a graduate of the Talbot Theological Seminary.
THE BEST ADVICE I EVER HAD
by Vivian McClellan*
T h e t a l l , serious-faced boy and the slight, smiling girl must have looked very young to the friends who had gathered to see them married that day. Of course, at the time, we consid ered ourselves quite mature. Both nineteen years of age, college students, Christians, and deeply in love, we were convinced that our marriage could have no problems. “You will find a lasting and satisfying mar riage,” intoned the minister earnestly, “ when you learn to put the Lord Jesus Christ first, the welfare of your mate second, and your own desires third.” “ Of course,” I thought. “ Anyone should know that.” But it took me years to learn that such unselfishness did not come automatically. I had to put it to work before I found that it was the best advice I ever had. Jim and I attended college together during the first three years of our marriage. I was anxious to improve my mind, but a little disinterested in improving my housekeeping. One day when he was unable to find a shirt, decently ironed and with all the buttons intact, Jim blew his stack. I was hurt and defensive. Here I was, going to school doing fine, creative things, making a real person of my self, and my husband was concerned over such a mundane detail as a but ton on a shirt. “What do you want?” I cried. “ A soul-mate or a housekeep er?” This represented the first major conflict in our ideas of a wife’s role. To this day I must confess a dislike for routine household chores, but it was only in realizing where “ the wel fare of my mate” was to be placed, that I learned to apply the same dili gence to my ironing and mending as I did to my creative writing. I don’t mean to imply that one can work at this happiness formula single- handedly. Jim and I often talked the
matter over together and there were times when we both needed to make concessions. In summer Jim worked as long as fourteeen hours a day in a service station and we banked as much as we could to help out the next winter when we must live on a part-time wage. One evening he was over an hour late and hadn’t thought to call me. I was on the verge of tears over the dinner which I had spent all after noon planning and preparing. His mood was not too sunny either and as we glared at each other over the cold potatoes and burnt pork chops, I sud denly burst out, “ See, it’s ruined! And it’s all your fault. You could have come home on time. You could have called. I slaved all afternoon for nothing. You don’t even care.” Throw ing myself on the divan, I sobbed furiously. Jim, reserved by nature, never knew what to make of my dem onstrations. He finished his solitary meal, confused and helpless. Here he was, working hard to support a wife at an age when many of his pals were still carefree. And what thanks did he get for it? It seemed like hours before he came and laid his hand gently on mine. “ I . . . I’d like to talk about it now if you don’t mind.” And so we poured out our grievances. He felt tired and unappreciated. I felt lonely and left out. I stayed home all day with little to do and no one to talk to. When evening came I wanted to do something interesting. He wanted to read the paper and go to bed. Talk ing thus, we soon realized that neither of us was placing “ our own desires third.” After that when Jim was late to meals, he tried to call. I learned to put dinner in the oven and sit down to knit until he arrived. Jim got off early once in a while, so that we
THE KING'S BUSINESS
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