ing the service, the devil again suggested that perhaps I still had bitterness and resentment down inside; that refusing to think about it was simply refusing to face it. “O Lord,” my heart cried, “ I have given it all over to You.” As if in answer, the congrega tion began to sing: “Arise, my soul, arise. Shake off thy guilty fears.” The Lord had used these words to restore my confidence in Him. Then they sang: “My faith has found a resting place . . . It is enough that Jesus died, and that He died for me.” “ It is enough that Jesus died . . ., ” over and over the words sang themselves into my heart. Suddenly, I was free! I knew Jesus’ death was enough—victory was mine over any bitterness or resentment that was committed to Him. I had committed it; I was free ! It never bothered me again until one day several weeks later while I was ironing. The old thoughts and feelings came over me in waves. Pleading the merits o f Christ’s shed blood, I audibly declared that I was free. I ironed a dozen shirts while I sang, “My faith has found a resting place . . . It is enough that Jesus died . . .” My heart rose in praise to such a wonderful Lord. It was a final victory. My heart was at peace. Now my conviction is reaffirmed: no man or situation can touch that life which is totally commit ted to the Lord. After we finished our course at Bethany, it was necessary for us to return to Tucson temporarily. Sundays, Al teaches an adult Bible class. During the week he’s a welder at a local steel company. As for the future we know God has called us to carry out the Great Commission. With peace in our hearts, we are assured He will open the door in His perfect time and way. Copyright 1965. Scripture Press Foun dations, Wheaton, Illinois. Reprinted by permission from P ower for L iving .
“why’s?” Why had anyone been so careless as to have stored an unmarked gasoline barrel among those which had never contained gasoline? Who had started the ri diculous story that Al knew there was fluid in the barrel but had carelessly cut into it? This hurt most of all: why had others be lieved it and passed it on for truth? So bitterness and resentment grew, fed by self-pity, to sap my physical and spiritual strength. For a long time, no one but Al knew how I felt. He had little pa tience with my atttiude, for he " O tired hands, Thou hast toiled long today, Did whatsoever ye found to do Bring honor and glory to H is H oly way?" " O fretful lips, Thou hast said much today, Hast thou g iv'n forth the gospel A n d told someone The W a y?" " O tearful eyes, Thou hast wept oft today. Have tears been shed for those out side, A n d those who've gone astray?" " 0 listening ears, Thou hast heard much today, Hast thou been attuned To what He had to day?" — A lic e A . Graef held no bitterness toward anyone. I shared my feelings with our pastors. They prayed. I prayed. Nothing seemed to help. My prayer life was frustrated. Finally, I committed Al, my feelings, and the whole situation to the Lord. I refused to mull it over in my mind. But even then I was tormented with the thought that certain c i r cums tances would bring the old feelings to the surface. One year to the day that Al had come home from the hospital was a communion Sunday. Dur "INTROSPECTION" " O weary feet, Thou hast trod far today, Has H a been thy Lamp, A n d the Lig h t of thy W a y?" " O aching heart, Thou hast loved much today, Hast thou been burdened For those w ithout 'The W a y '? "
Peace did not come from any assurance that my husband would live. I squarely faced the possibility that he would not. But either way, I could smile back at the Lord and say: “ God can be trusted.” Whatever hap pened could never alter that. The future? No daddy to share the birth of our baby? With my very limited strength, how could I possibly manage the boys, 15, 12, and 11 years of age? They especially needed their father now. Still, at that moment, I knew that if this were a part of God’s plan, I could manage—sup ported by this new revelation of His concern. A1 was in the hospital two full months, the last five weeks in iso lation because of staphylococcus infection. Violent reactions fol lowed each skin grafting. In an am azing way God poured strength into my body and sup plied my needs during those dif ficult days. Though the staph infection had not cleared up and he had to go to the hospital daily for sev eral weeks for physical therapy, at last our daddy was home. We were praying earnestly that the infection would clear up before 1 took my turn as patient. It did. just in time! Janyce Lynn arrived on the Fourth of July. A1 was jubilant! The boys adored their baby sister; Daddy was well enough to start classes when school opened in October. But in spite of all these blessings, my heart was not at’ rest. There were too many things I couldn’t forget! People “ see” and “ hear” and “ know” all sorts of strange things when something like this happens. Sadly, they circulate the products of their vivid imag inations. There were Job’s com forters with their absurd and fantastic “ reasons” for the acci dent. While busy caring for Al, I had been able to ignore most of this. Now I found myself re-living the whole experience. My mind churned with a dozen
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THE KING'S BUSINESS
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