The Measure of a Heart

by Janette Oke

  “It’s done all the time,” responded Mrs. Angus, and her own shoulders sagged with the heaviness of the thought.

  Anna cried for a minute longer, then lifted her head and blew her nose. She wiped her cheeks and sniffed away the sobs that still wanted to come. She would be waking her two little ones with her crying. She must get herself under control.

  “It’s so sad. So sad,” she repeated. “Oh, I wish we could just pray—or—or push them into the Kingdom.”

  “That would not be in keeping with the will of the Father,” said Mrs. Angus gently. “It was His will to give to each individual freedom of choice. Even He himself will not force them, though He longs for their salvation with a heart breaking with love and mercy.”

  The very thought nearly broke Anna’s heart. And if she grieved, how must the Lord feel?

  Rachael awoke. Anna wiped away her remaining tears and rose to get the baby.

  The rest of the time together was spent in happier exchange. Mrs. Angus doted on the two small girls. Anna was happy to show them off.

  “I just wish that my folks could see them,” she lamented. “Mama would enjoy them so much. Austin has said that we might go home for a short visit sometime before winter sets in.”

  Anna thought again of the boxes of garments. Now she would be able to have her two daughters clothed properly for the trip.

  “And Austin’s folks plan to come for Christmas,” Anna went on, the excitement filling her voice.

  “Gramma’s comin’,” Maggie echoed, nodding her head vigorously and jumping up and down. “A-huh. For Christmas. Next time.”

  Rachael squealed, knowing that something was making Maggie bounce with glee.

  “That’s wonderful,” responded Mrs. Angus, reaching out to pull Maggie against her. “They will be so happy to see what a big girl you have become.”

  “An’ Rachael, too,” replied Maggie. “Rachael is getting big too.”

  “She certainly is,” agreed Mrs. Angus, looking at young Rachael, who had pulled herself up at a kitchen chair. “She will soon be walking.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Maggie and reached out a hand to Rachael. “Come on, Rachael. Walk,” she coaxed. “I will help you.”

  Anna had to intervene. “No, Maggie. You aren’t big enough to help Rachael walk. You might let her fall. You play with her on the floor.” And Anna sat Rachael back down and gave her some kitchen spoons to play with. Maggie dropped down beside her little sister and offered her help.

  “Here, Rachael,” she said, “I’ll show you how to make the best noise.” And she did.

  As Reverend and Mrs. Angus took their leave, the older woman drew the younger toward her and whispered softly, “Remember, my dear. Your greatest and most important task is to be you. Austin chose you as his wife. For your love, your support. He has never been disappointed. You are an intelligent, gifted, sensitive person. That is enough. Don’t try too hard to be all of those other things. Just . . . just continue to be Anna. Give God you, Anna. All of you. Just as He made you.”

  Anna’s eyes filled with tears.

  Long after they had said their last goodbye and the door had closed, the words continued to ring in her ears, “Just continue to be Anna. Give God you, Anna. All of you. Just as He made you.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Release

  Anna spent hours in prayer in the days that followed. Even as she ripped seams and cut out new garments, her thoughts were on her spiritual walk. Through her talk with Mrs. Angus she had finally been able to forgive herself for failing Mrs. Paxton. Scripture after scripture came to her mind, helping her to realize that it was Mrs. Paxton who had ultimately made the decision whether to reject or accept Christ’s atonement. Though Anna still grieved over the choice the woman had made, she realized there was no way that she could have forced a different decision.

  But Anna still felt a heaviness about her lack of aptitude for the ministry. Surely she should have been more gifted for her role as Austin’s helpmate.

  Over and over she reviewed her conversation with Mrs. Angus. She had been shocked to learn that the woman had felt some of the same feelings of fear and frustration that she herself felt. She had always assumed that Mrs. Angus’ poise had come so naturally. Had been God-given. That her willing and apt service had always been a part of the woman herself.

  Now as Anna struggled, she tried to put things together in her mind.

  First of all there was Austin. He had confessed to Anna his feelings of failure. What had he said? Something Reverend Angus had said about realizing that it was Satan’s task to convince every individual that they were unworthy. A failure. Yes, agreed Anna at last. God says we are of worth. Satan tries to convince us that we are mere trash. Useless. Unusable. If he can accomplish that, then we give up. We do not even try to fulfill our God-given ministry to others.

  Look at Moses, thought Anna. “I can’t do it.” Think of Saul, hiding among the “stuff.” And Jonah. He was so sure that the people wouldn’t listen—that God was making a big mistake, that he tried to run away.

  It seemed so clear to Anna once she saw what Satan was attempting to do. She could now understand what Austin had tried to explain to her weeks earlier.

  Then had come Austin’s change of attitude after the recent Conference. His ministry had changed since his return. No, perhaps not his ministry. He was still doing things in much the same way. Still putting in long hours in sermon preparation. Still faithfully visiting his people. Still endeavoring to reach out to new families in the community. But his attitude was different. He worked as hard. Cared as much, but he didn’t seem to have the heaviness that he had previously evidenced.

  “I’ve turned the results over to the Lord,” he had told Anna. “I realize that I can’t change men’s hearts. Only God, through His Spirit, can. So I must be faithful, but leave the results with Him. It’s His work. His ministry. His power.”

  Anna was able to accept that truth as well. She knew that she in herself was capable of nothing of eternal value.

  But Anna still struggled with who she was and what she had to offer for service. She was so void of abilities.

  I should take advantage of the quiet to read Austin’s sermon, Anna said to herself.

  The girls were having their afternoon nap. Anna had been busy at her sewing machine, turning out winter garments for her daughters and herself. The last missionary barrel had yielded more good material than she had dared to hope. Each day as she sewed, little prayers of thanks welled up within her. They would all be adequately cared for. There was even a suit that, when altered slightly, would be fine for Austin. And even beyond what she had dared to hope or pray for, two new Sunday shirts, one of them in almost-new condition. Anna felt dizzy with gratitude.

  But now, the sewing must wait as she turned her attention to Austin’s sermon while everything was quiet. He would be expecting her comments, perhaps at the supper hour.

  So Anna settled herself at the kitchen table, sermon notes in hand.

  The Sunday’s message was on “Little Things.” The title quickly caught Anna’s attention.

  “What is that in your hand, Moses?” was Austin’s first question.

  “Only a rod. A shepherd’s rod. A simple ‘tool.’ A disposable ‘tool.’ ”

  Anna’s eyes quickly went on down the page. God—the Almighty, all-powerful maker of heaven and earth—was asking for a simple shepherd’s simple rod.

  And, oh my. What He did with it!

  Anna felt her heart beat with excitement as she watched how Austin skillfully and carefully developed the story and the lesson.

  “ ‘What do we have to feed the multitude?’ Christ asked His disciples” was Austin’s second point.

  “Just a little boy’s simple lunch.”

  But with that simple lunch, a multitude of people were fed, sustained, satisfied.

  “What if the boy had held back what he had, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be enough?” asked Austin. Anna could envisi
on the hungry crowd, the crying babies, the staggering adults, struggling home through the heat and hills, weak and bereft.

  Austin moved on to point three.

  “Who will face the enemy—the Philistines?” was his next question.

  “ ‘We have here a lad . . . with a sling and five little stones,’ was the answer.”

  “Did the people laugh? The enemy certainly did,” Austin’s sermon went on. “But not for long. ‘I come to you in the name of the Lord,’ cried David. Was that enough?”

  Again, Anna felt her heart leap. She knew well the story. Could picture in her mind the stilling of the curling, sneering lips of Goliath.

  “A little lad. His little sling. His tiny stones. What if he had been unwilling to use them for the Lord?” asked Austin. “What might the enemy have done to God’s people?” Anna could easily imagine.

  “What is it that you have to offer?” asked Austin’s sermon notes. “Great things? Do you have great talents? Great abilities? Great goodness? If you do, you stand alone. If you do, God might not need you. He might not be able to use you—that is, until you realize that even your greatest abilities are small, so very small in comparison to all that God is. God does not ask for greatness—for strengths—even for goodness. No, our goodness is as filthy rags. Our talents and abilities are weak and feeble. ‘Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord,’ according to Zechariah 4:6. And the apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:9 added this, ‘And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness,’ ” quoted Austin.

  “The secret is not in who we are—or what we are—but in our dedication to Him. In turning over all that we are—for His use—for His purpose. That is the secret. It is not whether we have been given ten talents, or five talents—or only one talent—but whether we are willing to release that talent into the hand of God—to let Him make use of that ‘little thing’ as He desires. He asks only for us—as He has created us. He decides who we are, what we are, what abilities, aptitudes, and gifts we have. We decide whether we are going to willingly give what we are—who we are—back to Him.

  “It’s simple really,” concluded the sermon notes. “God made us. He loves us. He has provided for our redemption. He wants our love and devotion. He knows just what can be accomplished with the little that we have to offer Him. It all depends on whether we are willing to give Him free rein. Whether we are willing to say, ‘Here is my little, Lord. Cast it down, break it up, hurl it out, as you see fit.’ Only then will we be of use to the Master. Only then will we find fulfillment and contentment in life. Only then will we be given freedom—released to serve.”

  Anna’s eyes were so filled with tears that she could scarcely read the script. “Released to serve.” That was what she wanted. That was the freedom she wanted in her own life. She was tired of feeling weak and inadequate. She was weary of struggling on in her own strength—always falling short and feeling guilty. God had made her. He knew her shortcomings—her frailties. He was the only one who could take her ‘little bit’ and make it of any worth to anyone. Why did she continue to struggle to be more than she was? She knew that she needed His strength, His wisdom, His power. But for the first time, Anna realized that all she had to do was to release who she was—what she was—into the loving, trustworthy hand of God and accept what He had in mind for her. It was so easy. She didn’t know why she hadn’t realized it sooner.

  She leaned her head on her arms and let the tears fall as her simple prayer lifted to her Father.

  “Oh, God. I’m not much. I have so few—abilities. So few talents. Help me to accept myself, Anna, as you have made me. If you decided that I was—was enough with what you have given to me, then help me to accept it also. And what I am, I give back to you. All of me. My ‘little bit.’ Do with it as you see fit, Lord. Release me to freedom . . . for service.”

  A gentle and quiet peace began to fill Anna’s being. She sensed deeply that God had heard her prayer. Her tears soon turned to tears of joy as the truth dawned, filling her being with warmth and peace. Her small, simple offering had been accepted by a holy God.