A Home for the Heart

by Michael Phillips

  Yes, my dear Corrie—yes to all these questions!

  Yes, because we will give our lives to God, and he will use them for his purposes, to accomplish his ends in his kingdom!

  Oh, Corrie, let us commit ourselves to live not for ourselves, not even for each other, not for what we can gain in life, not for what wealth or pleasures we can amass, not for what others may think of us, not for what either of us may become in the world’s eyes . . . but for our God. Let us commit ourselves to live that God’s purposes—not our own—may be accomplished in every corner of our beings. Let us dedicate ourselves to become a man and woman whose characters outshine our achievements. Let us dedicate ourselves to live for others, not ourselves.

  Oh, how desperately distant is such a vision of the Christlike nature! Yet my soul longs for nothing else.

  I want to be like Jesus, Corrie! Is it too high an objective, too presumptuous a thought? I cannot believe it. Rather, I believe it is the single prayer God most wants his creatures to pray—even though we will never, in this life, attain to that goal.

  Do you share the cry of my heart? I know you do, yet I am compelled to ask. I want to hear it from your own lips.

  You ask what road God will set us upon to travel down in our life together.

  This is the road, dear Corrie—the path of giving him our selves, that the nature of Jesus may more and more reflect itself in and through us.

  Ah, what a wondrous thought!

  It is not what most young couples seek that stirs my passions, my dear Corrie. I seek not the love that sets eyes aflame and hearts aflutter, as I so often witnessed in my congregation. My love for you is not that kind of an emotion, and perhaps is not born in feelings or emotions at all. It is higher and greater (although my heart does smile and skip a beat whenever I think of you). It is the love of the shared journey toward Christlikeness.

  God, our Father, carry out that work within us! Father, create in me a new heart, transform my being by your Spirit, make me to become like your Son!

  Oh, Corrie, when I think of these things, I ramble on and on! And the vision burns all the brighter because I am so painfully aware of the distance between my own shallow, selfish self and that image of Christ toward which my prayers are directed.

  The people in my former church, when I spoke of such a work the Father wants to perform—spoke of it personally and passionately as I am speaking now to you—oh, how utterly they misunderstood my intent! They misconstrued my words to mean that I thought I did reflect that Christlikeness which is the focus of my prayers!

  “Holier than thou,” they accused me of acting. “Who do you think you are?” they said, “to pray such lofty prayers? Are you so much more spiritual than we are?”

  They could never understand that it is precisely because of my own weak and fleshly nature—the fact that I am incapable of reflecting my Lord—that I pray so earnestly and diligently for the Father to effect the transformation within me! What I can never do, I pray with all the more passion for the Father to do.

  I pray you understand, Corrie! But again, my own doubting nature betrays me. You do understand, I know it.

  And how grateful to God I am to be privileged to share life’s road—and the adventure of giving our lives to him to use for his ends—with you, my dear, dear, Corrie Belle Hollister!

  As seems inevitable, my plans are finding themselves delayed. Earlier I had hoped to be away from here by early November. Though things are going well, that now appears impossible. How long the delay will be I do not know. I am still hoping to depart Mrs. Timms and Virginia by mid-November, at the latest by the third week of the month.

  Is there a boardinghouse in Miracle Springs where I will be able to get a room?

  Yours,

  Christopher Braxton

  Dear Christopher,

  Yes . . . yes, Christopher, I do understand!

  Here are the words from my own lips—or my own pen!

  I too pray to be all that God wants me to be! I share the desire of your heart to be made like Jesus!

  Yes, that is the road I want our lives to travel down together, that God might have his complete will in and through us!

  I commit myself, with you, to live not for what we can gain in life nor for what others may think of us nor what we may become in the world’s eyes. With you, I commit myself to live that God’s purposes—not mine, not ours—may be accomplished in every corner of my being. I dedicate myself to become a woman whose character outshines my achievements. I dedicate myself to live for others, not myself.

  Whatever the people in your church may have thought, I admire you, Christopher Braxton, for your high and lofty aspirations. How could I think of sharing my life with one who did otherwise?

  For a Christian young woman like me, there could be no marriage but to a man whose desire in life is to serve his God. But I have had to know you in order to realize that truth. I did not know it before because I had never known a man like you. Knowing you, as I said, has changed everything. The idea of sharing life with someone who does not share these most important of life’s goals is now too distant a thought even to contemplate.

  Even should you die tomorrow or suddenly forget about me, I have this awareness: It would be a far better thing to spend life single than to marry, even for love, outside the shared commitment of values and purposes that you and I have in common.

  I am coming more and more to understand you and what you are trying to stand for and do and be as a man. I have faith in what God is doing in you, in the man he is making of you, in how he is using you in his kingdom. I have faith in your faith—does that make sense? And I am willing and eager to follow you and be part of your life, wherever God leads you.

  I also feel more and more that we are being—and maybe already have been—set apart. We have to have faith that God is carrying out something special in us, and we cannot lose sight of that, lest we falter and choose second best. We are being called to stand, and perhaps in some ways to stand alone. It doesn’t matter if people don’t understand. What matters is whether we are an open channel for God’s work.

  I am excited about life with you!

  I am so thankful to God that I know you!

  I cannot wait to lay my eyes upon you again!

  Yours,

  Corrie

  Chapter 17

  A Quiet Decision

  During this time, as Christopher and I were discussing the future on a new level, sharing our desire to let God’s will be done in our lives, I began to realize that the career decisions I’d been wondering about had already been made.

  The good wasn’t necessarily the best.

  Besides, the thought of a lot of travel and activity jarred with the peaceful side of me that was quietly waiting to see a certain Christopher Braxton again. I needed to talk to him about everything and pray with him and to do it face-to-face—before I could feel sure about the choices I was making.

  So in the end I decided, like Pa had said, to keep biding my time. What was the hurry? I had a whole lifetime ahead of me. Opportunities would continue to be there. I didn’t have to do all there was to do right then.

  If writing for newspapers and speaking to women’s groups were things that God truly wanted, he would make it clear enough when the time came. But right now was a time to make sure Christopher and I got a good start down God’s road together.

  So I wrote to the two women’s groups, thanked them for their interest, but told them I wouldn’t be able to accept their invitations. I also wrote to Mr. Smythe at the Register and the editors at the Sacramento Bee and the other papers that had contacted me, telling them that my future writing plans were undecided at this time, but that I would keep their offers in mind.

  The last letter was hardest of all to write.

  It wasn’t that there was any doubt left about whether it was the right thing or not. I knew it was. I could even say it was what I wanted now as well.

  But the offer represented so much of what I’d
always thought I’d wanted. For how many years had I dreamed of just this moment! Even though in my deepest heart I was sure, I couldn’t help feeling some lingering pain from the decision at the same time.

  It was just after noon on a warm fall day.

  Before putting pen to paper I had to take a long walk in the woods—not to think about my decision any further, but just to be alone. Sometimes even when you make what you know is a right choice, a sense of melancholy goes with it.

  That’s how I felt on this warm fall afternoon. There was a feeling of loss because I was letting go of something, letting go of a dream that had been with me a long time.

  I cried a few tears. Quiet tears.

  I was giving up something because God had given me something better. I had no second thoughts. I was happy . . . but my happiness had a little melancholy mixed in with it.

  I came back to the house, sighed a few last sighs and wiped away the final tears. Then I went to my room, sat down at my desk, and wrote the final letter.

  Mr. Edward Kemble

  California Alta

  San Francisco, California

  Dear Mr. Kemble,

  I appreciate your offer, and am more flattered than I can tell you that you considered it important enough to journey all the way to Miracle Springs to see me in person. I apologize for not answering your first letter. I simply had no answer to give.

  I am afraid I still do not. My future writing plans are undetermined at this time. Therefore, I must decline your offer. I am enclosing the unsigned contract with this letter.

  I must tell you that I have had other offers as attractive financially as yours. However, I do feel a loyalty both toward you and toward the Alta. Therefore, when the time comes that I have an article ready for publication, I shall contact you first.

  I am sorry for baiting you when you were here about not paying women enough. Though I consider my writing worthy of consideration on its own merit regardless of my gender, I do understand how things stand. You have always been more than fair with me—except perhaps for a few articles right at first, but I forgive you!—and I am deeply appreciative of all the support you have given me through the years.

  Your most recent offer was more than generous. My declining it in no way reflects a dissatisfaction with your proposal. My plans are simply uncertain at this time, and must wait to determine what course my life will take.

  Sincerely and with gratitude,

  Cornelia Belle Hollister

  Chapter 18

  Another Journey West

  November came.

  It brought increasingly cold days in our town, snow flurries higher in the mountains . . . and more and more agitation in my heart. For every day brought Christopher nearer!

  As my thoughts found it increasingly impossible not to dwell on him, I spent more and more of my time at my desk. The letters were too many and too long to include here—except for a very few, and these only partially.

  Dear Christopher,

  The time is approaching. I fear I will die of anticipation before you arrive!

  I know I will not be able to send you many more letters because you will be gone before they reach Virginia. (I hope you receive this.) I will keep writing you, however, and present you with a great stack of unsent mail the moment you arrive.

  Winter is gradually coming. It is not so severe where we are here in the foothills, though nights get very cold. Miracle Springs does not see a great deal of snow, though we are so close to the mountains that the snow is very near.

  I have said nothing to Pa or Almeda or the family about your plans other than that you are coming to California to see me. They suspect more, I am sure, than that you will drop by once or twice for afternoon tea and coffee. I have spoken with Mrs. Gianini, who runs a boardinghouse in town, and asked her to keep a room for you. She will get it ready when you have a more certain idea of when you will arrive.

  Yesterday I happened to run into two girls I have known for a long time—Jennie Shaw and Laura Douglas. Well, they’re hardly girls now, any more than I am, though they are both several years younger than me. I hadn’t seen them since I got back, and we had a nice long visit. They both told me about young men they like—Jennie’s practically engaged from the sound of it. All they could talk about was how handsome their fellows were, and then they’d start giggling and carrying on.

  I felt so out of place.

  That must have been one of those “divine appointments” Almeda used to tell me about. Just when I’d written you about people not understanding and having to stand alone, then this conversation came along. I wonder if God was trying to see if I really believed what I’d told you!

  I tried to tell Jennie and Laura about you, about the relationship we have, but I could tell they didn’t understand. I told them that we were such good friends, and they looked at me strangely. I tried to tell them how we talk (or write) about everything and about how more than anything else we want to grow as Christians together. They really couldn’t understand that!

  I felt both hurt and sorry for them at the same time. I don’t mean to say that their two men aren’t nice. But it just seemed that they had no idea what a friendship with a man, especially one you’re thinking about marrying, ought to be like. What kind of a marriage can they have without the kind of friendship that you and I have?

  Later it began to bother me even more that Jennie and Laura couldn’t understand about us. I just couldn’t explain it to them because by trying I would have had to bring it down to their level where romance is all they think about, not the deeper kinds of relationship. It was so frustrating.

  But then I had a revelation—here I go again, you poor man!

  When something is right and you know it, you don’t forsake it just because no one else can understand it. Even if a million people don’t understand our commitment to each other and to the Lord, that doesn’t mean we forget about that commitment in order that they might understand us better. Just because another might not understand about what we want in life doesn’t mean it isn’t worth working for and holding on to.

  (Now that I see that written down, it seems so obvious. Oh, sometimes I think God works so slowly in me. I force him to plod through the side roads!)

  Then that same night, as I prayed, I found myself thanking God for what he is doing in our lives—and do you know, Christopher, there’s no end! He has been so good to us. He has devoted such time and effort to bring us to where we are.

  You have spoken of your time of loneliness after you left your pastorate, of how much God used that. My time earlier this year after I left you in Virginia and then when I went up to New York—when I thought I’d never see you again—was much the same. We have both grown when we’ve been alone.

  Thinking of that, I began to wonder if the growing would stop after we were married. (Am I being too terribly bold, dear Christopher!) Then comes my new revelation—it won’t!

  It won’t stop, Christopher. It won’t even slow up. Happy or sad, remembering God or even forgetting him for a time, like you wrote about—what we do won’t keep God from doing what he wants to do!

  We’ll still be who we are after we are married, though our relationship will no doubt be different than it is now. We’ll be one with each other, one with Christ. No, the growing won’t stop. It’s only begun, and it’s picking up momentum.

  I wondered for a time when you said your love for me wasn’t an emotional feeling. I didn’t understand at first. But now I do because I know the same kind of love. It isn’t based on the kind of romantic and emotional, heart-fluttering kind of feelings that Laura and Jennie talk about. Those kinds of feelings aren’t dependable. What you were describing, and what I now understand, transcends all earthly feelings.

  It is a spiritual love, isn’t it, Christopher? That’s what you were trying to get me to see!

  It’s not less than the other . . . but so much more! It is a fulfillment of something so much greater that God intends to flow between a man an
d a woman. It is something we don’t control, because it has been given to us.

  I do not mean that it is not emotional, because that is part of it too. Sometimes I long for you to hold me tight and never let me go again. (Oh, I am being so bold!) But it is more than only this. And I fear young women like Jennie and Laura only know that small part of it, and so therefore cannot know fully what love is meant to be.

  You and I are surrounded by love, a love so much greater than what we could ever have for each other. It is greater because all our love is given to God, and all his love is given to us until you can’t distinguish any difference.

  Oh, Christopher, you mean so much to me because I know you care for me with Christ’s love, which is ever so much more than man’s alone. Nothing will ever change that. It is good what has happened, and is happening, between us.

  Yours fondly and, right now,

  also very “emotionally”!

  Corrie

  Dear Corrie,

  Believe it or not, the day is nearly at hand. I leave for California next week!

  By the time you read this I will probably be away from Mrs. Timms’ farm and on my way to you! So you will be able to reach me no longer. Yet I shall continue to write you, as you did along your way, even if I should outstrip my letters and arrive before they do.

  Something inside me simply must write. It used to be in my journal, now it takes the form of letters to you. I have always found that my thinking isn’t complete unless there’s a written component to accompany the mental part. It is as though my brain is incapable of entering into all its functions by itself—my fingers and pen need to be part of the process.

  Most preachers, I suppose, are the kind of men who can “think on their feet,” who can express themselves eloquently as the ideas first occur in their brains. I do not have that gift. I have always found myself singularly at a loss for what men call “the right word” when first it is demanded.

  I have always needed to go through a process of thought—questioning and examining and analyzing some new point of inquiry from many different angles—before a synthesized order begins to dawn into my outlook. Out of this order, conclusions and perspective and a proper course of thought and action gradually begin to reveal themselves. I am rarely able to reach this final point of balanced perspective until I have written down my thoughts on the matter. It is out of the writing that the order and conclusions emerge.