by Penny Musco
Hannah hesitated. There seemed to be little she could do, and she had to admit, she was a bit intrigued. No one had ever seriously questioned her religious beliefs before. At her church, one paid a premium for a pew, attended every week, and considered his obligation to God fulfilled. Naturally, she had heard of Dwight L. Moody and his campaigns in Chicago and abroad, and she vaguely remembered his New York meetings at the Great Roman Hippodrome in 1876 when she was ten. But never once had she considered that his message had anything to do with her. Yet here she was, stuck in the wrong place with no choice but to listen to him. She sighed in resignation. “Yes, I’ll go in.”
The well-known evangelist, introduced as just arrived from a tour of the Pacific coast, began to speak as Hannah slipped into the back row.
“Some years ago a gentleman came to me and asked which I thought was the most precious promise of all those that Christ left. I took some time to look them over, but I gave it up. I found that I could not answer the question. It is like a man with a large family of children. He cannot tell which he likes best; he loves them all. But if not the best, this is one of the sweetest promises of all: ‘Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.’”
Had her minister ever read this verse out loud in church? It didn’t seem familiar at all, but its profound simplicity struck Hannah.
“If I wanted to find a person who had rest I would not go among the very wealthy. The man that we read of in the twelfth chapter of Luke, thought he was going to get rest by multiplying his goods, but he was disappointed. ‘Soul, take thine ease.’ I venture to say that there is not a person in this wide world who has tried to find rest in that way and found it.
“Money cannot buy it. Many a millionaire would gladly give millions if he could purchase it as he does his stocks and shares. God has made the soul a little too large for this world. Roll the whole world in, and still there is room. There is care in getting wealth, and more care in keeping it.
“Nor would I go among the pleasure seekers. They have a few hours’ enjoyment, but the next day there is enough sorrow to counterbalance. They may drink a cup of pleasure today, but the cup of pain comes on tomorrow.
“To find rest I would never go among the politicians or among the so-called great. Congress is the last place on earth that I would go. In the Lower House they want to go to the Senate; in the Senate they want to go to the Cabinet, and then they want to go to the White House, and rest has never been found there.”
The crowd chuckled knowingly.
“Nor would I go among the halls of learning. ‘Much study is a weariness to the flesh.’ I would not go among the upper ten, the ‘bon ton,’ for they are constantly chasing after fashion. Have you not noticed their troubled faces on our streets? And the face is index to the soul. They have no hopeful look. Their worship of pleasure is slavery. Solomon tried pleasure and found bitter disappointment, and down the ages has come the bitter cry, ‘All is vanity.’”
Hannah had never before heard anyone speak with such forthrightness and conviction. Mr. Moody’s words stirred something deep inside her, as if he were talking right to her.
“Now for something positive. I would go successfully to someone who has heard the sweet voice of Jesus and has laid his burden down at the cross. There is rest, sweet rest. Thousands could certify to this blessed fact. Among all his writings, St. Augustine has nothing sweeter than this: ‘Thou has made us for Thyself, O God, and our heart is restless ’til it rests in Thee.’ I like to have a text like this because it takes us all in. ‘Come unto Me all ye that labor.’ That doesn’t mean a select few—refined ladies and cultured men. It doesn’t mean good people only. It applies to saint and sinner. Hospitals are for the sick, not for healthy people. Do you think that Christ would shut the door in anyone’s face and say, ‘I did not mean all; I only meant certain ones?’”
“Now, there are a good many believers who think this text applies only to sinners. It is just the thing for them, too. What do we see today? The Church, Christian people, all loaded down with cares and troubles. ‘Come unto Me all ye that labor.’ All! I believe that includes the Christian whose heart is burdened with some great sorrow. If you cannot come to Christ as a saint, come as a sinner. But if you are a saint with some trouble or care, bring it to Him. Saint and sinner, come!”
With Mr. Moody’s invitation ringing in the air, the organ began to play softly. The great preacher sat down, and a gentleman with big, mutton-chop whiskers took his place at the pulpit.
“I found this hymn in a small paper published in London,” the man told the assembly. “It was said to be a favorite song of the fishermen on the north coast of England, and they were often heard singing it as they approached their harbors in the time of storm.” The music swelled, and he began to sing in a powerful voice:
The Lord’s our Rock, in Him we hide,
A shelter in the time of storm;
Secure whatever ill betide,
A shelter in the time of storm.
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A weary land,
A weary land,
Oh, Jesus is a Rock in a weary land,
A shelter in the time of storm.
A line of people began to form in the aisle, with men and women streaming down from the balcony as well.
The singer, whom she guessed to be the famous Ira Sankey, continued:
A shade by day, defense by night,
A shelter in the time of storm...
The usher who had escorted her in suddenly appeared at her side. “And you, Madam, what will you do with Jesus? Will you come, as Mr. Moody invited, whether you are a saint or sinner?”
“I...I don’t know. I’ve been deeply affected by what he’s said, and I’d like to know more.”
“Walk with me then, won’t you, and talk to my wife.” He led her into a crowded room off the sanctuary, where a smiling older woman indicated a seat next to her.
“I’m Elvira Murray. How can I help you tonight, my dear?” she asked.
Hannah leaned forward. “Is Mr. Moody saying I need to do something more to please God? Isn’t attending church, being a good person, and trying to follow His rules enough?”
Mrs. Murray opened her Bible. “The book of Romans declares: ‘There is none righteous, no, not one: There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one.’ So you see, none of us is ‘good.’ None of us follow God’s rules completely all the time. We are all seeking quite the opposite, our own pleasures and comfort, as Mr. Moody so eloquently preached tonight. And the Lord calls that sin.”
Hannah nodded. She thought of her devotion to her house, clothes, and other worldly things, and Robert’s burning desire to get ahead at the bank.
“The good news is that God loves us and has taken care of our sin,” Mrs. Murray continued. “Further on in Romans, it says that His gift is eternal life through His Son, Jesus. It is by Him taking the punishment for our sin by dying on the cross that we’re ‘saved,’ that is, spared from eternal damnation. And, of course, He helps us in this life, too.”
“What you say makes so much sense,” Hannah said, “but why haven’t I heard it before?”
Mrs. Murray sighed sadly. “Bits and pieces of the gospel are scattered here and there in most churches today, but no great effort is made to tie it all together or explain that one must consciously choose to follow the Lord. Now that you know, though, will you come to Jesus, trusting Him as your Savior and Lord? You won’t have all the answers tonight, but you know enough to make a decision.”
Hannah’s head was full of contradictory thoughts. She knew the restlessness of which the evangelist spoke and recognized her selfish seeking after her own desires and pleasures. Bu
t was it really so easy to have that assurance and forgiveness? All she had to do was say yes?
As if reading her mind, Mrs. Murray said, “When I first decided to follow the Lord, I wondered why everyone didn’t! The Gospel, the Good News of Jesus Christ, is blessedly simple. Praise the Lord He made it so! I found out that most people haven’t been given the opportunity. In another part of Romans, the Apostle Paul writes, ‘How then shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? And how shall they believe in Him of Whom they have not heard?’ It is my fondest hope that tonight, now that you’ve heard, you will call on the Lord.”
And so Hannah had. She had been brought to the wrong church not by a driver’s mistake, but by her heavenly Father’s divine plan, so that she would hear what she never had before. The consequences of her commitment were profound. The tiny seed of faith planted that night had taken root and grown over these past five months. While she still had much to learn, she could never turn back to her old way of life.
Robert didn’t fully understand what had happened to her and resisted any discussion of spiritual matters, although he’d agreed to attend the new church with her. Carolina had been amused at the story and then aghast at the changes in Hannah and also refused to talk about it. These strains in her most important relationships were what she prayed about constantly.
The sudden hunger for God’s Word comforted her. Before that November evening, having a Bible for picking up and reading had never seemed necessary because the minister at her former church narrated the applicable portions in the weekly service. But she had been seized with a desire to find out what the Scriptures said. Of course, the Jessups had a family Bible, its size making it impractical for everyday use, so she had purchased the soft, leather-bound one she now held in her hand.
She flipped through the pages. On Sunday, the pastor had mentioned the name of Hannah in passing, while talking about the prophet Samuel, and she was eager to learn the story of her Biblical namesake. She found what she was looking for in chapter one of First Samuel. Hannah scanned the text with growing amazement. Here was a woman with the same problem as hers! Her eyes locked in on one verse. “The Lord had shut up her womb.” A sudden chill ran down her spine. Was it because of something both of us Hannahs had done—or not done?
Hannah read further. “And she vowed a vow, and said, ‘O Lord of hosts, if thou wilt indeed look on the affliction of thine handmaid, and remember me, and not forget thine handmaid, but wilt give unto thine handmaid a man child, then I will give him unto the Lord all the days of his life…” Samuel’s mother had prayed for a child! The woman of old had wept, grieved, and even lost her appetite over her childlessness, and dared to ask the Lord to give her a son!
She struggled to remember what the pastor had said about Samuel. He had been the last judge and had anointed both Saul and David as kings. He was obviously a very important Biblical figure to have two books named after him. And his life had begun with the desperate prayer of a childless woman.
The priest Eli had assured the biblical Hannah that the Lord would grant her request, and “she went her way, and did eat, and her countenance was no more sad.” Chapter one closed out with the birth of her son: “For this child I prayed; and the Lord hath given me my petition which I asked of him: Therefore also I have lent him to the Lord; as long as he liveth, he shall be lent to the Lord.”
God hadn’t chastised Samuel’s mother for asking Him for a child. Instead, He had answered her prayer. The passage didn’t seem to indicate that she had done anything wrong. Did that mean a modern-day Hannah could ask God to do the same for her? Could she really bring this weighty sorrow to the Lord? Well, why not, she chided herself. Wasn’t the pastor always saying Christians could pray about anything?
Hannah slipped from her seat and knelt, heedless of her fawn-colored silk shirtwaist with its fine edging, her arms resting on the chair’s buttoned upholstery. “Lord, you know how much I want children, and like my namesake of so long ago, I’m deeply grieved because I don’t have any. I confess, also like her, sometimes I’m bitter, too.” She took a deep breath. “But…if it’s Your will, I ask You now for a child. I don’t care whether it’s a son or daughter, but I, too, will dedicate him or her to You forever.”
She didn’t know how long she remained there lost in prayer, but the shadows in the parlor had lengthened considerably when she heard the front door open.
“Hannah?”
At the sound of Robert’s voice, she rose, her face no longer sad, and her soul at peace now that she had committed her deepest heartache to the Lord.
4
“Where’s Rosa this morning?” Robert asked.
Caterina expertly served buckwheat cakes and fried ham. She shot Hannah a quick, nervous glance and hurried out of the dining room.
Hannah had dreaded this moment and even entertained the hope Robert wouldn’t notice their new maid. She gave him what she hoped was a bright smile. “She’s left us to stay at home for a few months, and her friend Caterina is working in her place,” she replied, busying herself with her food.
Robert frowned. “I thought you were pleased with Rosa.”
“Oh, I was, I mean, I am,” Hannah stammered. “Her...her mother is not very well.” At least that much was true.
“So she’s taking care of her mother?” Robert asked absently as he began to eat.
“Yes, I expect so.”
Robert laid aside his fork and knife. “There seems to be some element of mystery here. Did she leave us to tend to her mother, or is it something else?”
Hannah couldn’t meet his probing eyes. She’d never been very good at lying, even as a child, and in a flash of insight, realized that perhaps she’d made a mistake in not telling him from the beginning. It would hurt him that she had deceived him and make disclosing the truth that much harder.
“Well?”
She couldn’t be less than honest now. Offering up a silent prayer for forgiveness and help, she glanced at her husband across the table. “Actually, Rosa is expecting a baby,” she managed in a soft voice.
Robert didn’t speak for several moments but continued to gaze at her steadily. At last he said, “I see. How long have you known about this?”
“For several months.”
“And you chose not to tell me.”
“Yes, because I was afraid you would—”
“And rightly so. She isn’t married, is she?”
Hannah mutely shook her head.
Robert pushed back his chair and stood. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m always the last to know? Perhaps you were hoping I wouldn’t even notice we have a new maid?” His steely voice cut through her.
He knew her too well. “Robert, I’m sorry.” She rose as well. “I was wrong not to have told you, but I wasn’t sure what you’d say. Rosa’s family desperately needed her income, and Caterina was available, and besides...” She gripped the back of her chair, uncertain how to go on.
“Besides what?”
“She...she...was...the boy...it wasn’t her fault,” Hannah finished lamely, her face scarlet.
Robert gave a mirthless laugh. “Isn’t that what they all say?”
“But, Robert, I believe her!” she gasped. “She’s...she’s not that kind of girl! I’m certain of that.”
“And what about the baby?” he continued harshly. “I suppose you have a plan for it, too? She won’t bring it here, I can tell you, because she won’t be coming back!”
“Robert, no!” Hannah held out a hand beseechingly. “She depends on the money! Her mother is sick, and there are so many mouths to feed—“
“And now there’s one more.” He spoke with finality. “No, Hannah, she will not work here again.”
“How can you be so cruel?” Hannah retorted, anger bubbling to the surface. “I’ve told you it’s not her fault! Where is your Christian charity?”
He looked across at her, unsmiling. “So that’s it. Another test of my faith that I’m failing.” He spoke in a
low, forceful tone. “Perhaps you’re so affected by all this because she’s having a baby and you’re not!” He didn’t even flinch when she stepped back, stricken by his verbal slap. “You think I don’t see your disappointment? Don’t you understand that I feel it too, not being able to give you what you seem to want most in this world? Sometimes, I think you want a baby even more than me.” He turned away abruptly and strode to the window overlooking the tiny backyard garden.
“Oh, Robert...” Tears sprang to her eyes as she stumbled to him, her hand reaching out to the smooth silk back of his vest. “I haven’t blamed you! How could you believe...have I been so...so single-minded? Darling, forgive me!”
He didn’t move but continued to stare at the windswept trees, their leaves tinged with red and gold signaling the fall’s cooler temperatures. “I won’t have her back in the house,” he said in an unsteady voice, “for all our sakes.”
“She’s offered us her baby.” The words slipped out before Hannah could stop them.
He whipped around, and Hannah involuntarily took a step back, shaken by his swift reaction.
“Don’t even think of it!” He gripped her shoulders roughly. “I won’t bring a...a—I can’t even say the word in front of you—into this house!”
“But, Robert—” Hannah pleaded.
“No! And that’s final! Not another word about it! If we’re to have a child, it will be ours, or we will have none at all! And as for Rosa, there are places she can go, but our home is not one of them!” He started for the door then came back to snatch his coat off the back of his chair. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get to work, where hopefully, I’m still in charge!”
Hannah collapsed in her chair, stunned. She hadn’t meant to tell him like this, in the midst of a heated quarrel. When the front door slammed shut a few seconds later, it was as if a door in her heart had been violently closed as well. She rose and fled to her room as sobs racked her body.
