THE MOTHER'S OFFICE

BY MRS. S. M. I. HENRY.

      

THE best result which I can wish to obtain from this article would be to bring to the discouraged mother, who has no heart in her work, such an understanding of the dignity of her office that she shall take on enthusiasm, as the old apple-trees take on bloom in May, and breathe out rejoicing like a sweet odor.

“What is motherhood that I should be glad in it?”  sighs some woman. “It has brought me endless care and worry.”

 Let us see, then, what it is; for worry is no necessary part of it, and should be wholly escaped. Motherhood is not simply the result of having borne a child; one may have borne many, and yet not have known one throb of genuine motherhood. One may have drained the bitterness of the curse to the dregs, and have missed entirely the sweetness of the blessing, because she has not taken her work from God, and done it in his name.

There can be no real motherhood without a practical Christian experience. It is by far more spiritual than physical. It is a Christian grace. It is the rich storehouse where the fruits of the Spirit are garnered for practical daily use. Motherhood is, in a broader sense than anything else, co-partnership with God. It is that link in character by which God takes hold of humanity,—the one element of human nature which has passed the ordeal of the fall, and retained somewhat of its likeness to the original thought of God. It has made many a virgin aunt the sweetest mother of the whole family, and a few men have worn this rare blossom in their own hearts, and so proved themselves to hold a peculiar kinship to Christ.

Motherhood is God's chosen instrument for his best work in the world; without it he could do nothing with men as they are, but with it he can do almost anything.

For a woman to have within her that which brings the memory of his mother to any man, is to hold one of the rarest gifts by which souls are won from sin ; for the thought of his mother is invariably the purest and truest in the memory of a profligate man, and nearest to his thoughts of God. It may be mixed with much that is neither true nor pure; but as it reaches back to his own innocent days, it holds the sweetest that he can know, and is the fertile soil in which God would plant the seeds of truth. There would be little hope of reformation for him if he had no reverence for this memory. In all the years of work among the very sinful, I have never found a man who would not respond to a judicious reference to his early days with his mother. The hardest thing I ever heard from any man about his mother was this: “I don't s'pose my mother mounted to much; she ran off and left me when I was a little shaver, and I have been lonesome allus.” The most pathetic was from a hardened criminal, whose mother was herself a criminal. He had come to appreciate how much this had to do with the “hard luck” of his life, but said: “I am sure we should both have been differ'nt if she could 'a had half a chance; but she didn't know nothin', and I ain't blamin' her.”

In the midst of every-day prosy duties, it is very difficult to appreciate how important is the office to which woman has been appointed, — its sacred character, its exalted dignity, as well as its corresponding responsibilities, which are so great that she could never bear them alone.

The third chapter of 1 Corinthians is especially the word of inspiration to mothers. The pronoun “we” in the ninth verse (“For we are laborers together with God”) means us. I would like to get a few drops of the honey of this consolation into the heart of the perplexed mother who reads this. It means something to be a laborer together with God. In the first place, God would never call us to this partnership, and then himself flinch from his share of responsibility. His share is to give strength for our need;  answer our calls for help; take anything which we have begun in his name, when we have done our best with it, and finish it. In this he will never fail us. To have done our part, to the best of our ability, means to have God finish the work for us.

“What is my share?  O, if I could but  know!” I hear some woman sob again, as one did years ago, while we talked together. Our share is summed up in one word, obedience, or willingness, which, in this case, means the same thing. Willingness to be taught of God, to take his word as it reads, to be controlled by it in all things, to be subject to the power of the Holy Spirit as he abides in that word, — willingness to acknowledge and correct an error in judgment or motive, before it passes into sin or bad example. Many a mother has failed at this point in dealing with her children. She has taken a position thoughtlessly, and found it wrong, while the children, if she has taught them well, knew that it was wrong as well as she did, but her pride rebelled against making confession to them, so it was allowed to stand,— a, wrong to herself, her children, and God. The result of her final decision in such a crisis is tremendous. Holding to the error, for the sake of “dignity,” she has lost the chance to lead her flock beside the still waters, when to have sacrificed self and said, “I am wrong, but will not stay wrong; we must all do right together, at all hazards,” would have been enthronement in the hearts of her children, and the planting of truth from which faith would have grown. Unbelief grows from enthroned error; from humbled truth, never.

Willingness means also ready trust in God. We must be willing to leave him to do his part, without jealous or fearful watching. One mother said to me, “I have no rest; I am growing ill; I lie awake nights, I am so burdened. I do not know what more I can do for my son. I am sure I have done the best I know, and yet he is going wrong.” When it is true of any mother that she has done the best she can, she can safely pass her work over to her divine Partner, and be free from any sense of burden.

Even if she has the bitter knowledge that she has not done her best, there is yet a way for her to lay the responsibility off onto God; and when God takes the responsibility, he knows where to lay it next. Confession of failure made frankly to her child, a clear setting forth of truth as seen in better light, a faithful testimony by obedience for the future, will relieve her of all necessary burden. To be conscious that one has done the best she knew, as she was going along, with a willingness to correct errors at sight, ought in itself, to be an assurance that God has his hands on the work, and will see it through; this should make peace for any mother.

“But,” says one, “how could I rest, even in God, and see my boy going wrong every day? How can I help sadness and worry!”  Ah, but one has not done her part yet, until she has dropped the whole case, with all the worry and anxiety, upon God.

A sad face is poor testimony to the power of salvation. To worry is to repudiate the promise, and brand it as worthless. And since it is by testimony given by what we are, and how we live, as well as by our words, that we are to honor God before our children as well as the world, so we cannot expect him to take our burdens upon himself until we have made that testimony complete. The complete testimony includes a peaceful face, well-kept person, a voice that breaks into song, and a sweet and winsome graciousness amid life's vexing cares, and is mighty in keeping at bay the snarling dogs of unbelief, that hound the steps of every boy and girl in this age of the world; while an untidy dress, unkempt hair, a woebegone expression, and a peevish tone, suggestive of heart-break, will never awaken in them the desire to follow Christ. They will rather flee the wearisome spell of such evident unrest, and disbelieve the practical helpfulness of the gospel. Joy, not sorrow, is the factor which the problem calls for, without which we can never get the promised result.  If we substitute sorrow for joy, the responsibility of failure is ours, not God's.

A mother gives her child a piece of work to do, with all neccessary instructions. The child follows instructions faithfully, but the work is a botch. Upon whom but the mother does the responsibility of failure fall? But if the child deviates in any degree from instructions, the mother is free, and the child must bear the responsibility.  So between us and our God in our mutual labor. Happy is that mother who so accepts her sacred office, so works the will of God in caring for body and soul, so perfectly trusts him, that she can say, with David, '' Remember the word unto thy servant, upon which thou hast caused me to hope.” Ps. 119:49.

I have before me the vision of such a mother. Through many years of her only son's profligacy, she carried in her face the peace of God. She looked her faith in the promise, until her boy was compelled to acknowledge that she was sustained by an arm that must be strong enough to hold him up, if he would but trust it as she did. The God who could keep a drunkard's mother peaceful and quiet so long, could certainly save the drunkard, was the message which came to him at last. He was never afraid to send for her when trouble came through sin, for he knew her faith, and believed its testimony; and in his time of shame and disgrace, it was like a hiding place. One day he telegraphed, “I am coming to Christ, if I can find him.” She answered with a “live wire” and followed in person as fast as she could. Later on, she had the great joy of hearing that son preach the everlasting gospel, and at last, of seeing him fall asleep in peace, after years of blessed service. ~

ADVENT  REVIEW AND SABBATH HERALD. 

 JANUARY 19, 1897 Vol. 74. No. 3

Written from the Sanitarium in Battle Creek MI