A well-known American journalist closed his desk one morning without a word of explanation to his business associates, and hurried back to the old home and his widowed mother. Arriving at the scene of his boyhood days, he gazed wistfully at the old familiar sights and passed up the garden to greet his gray-haired mother who was sitting in her easy chair waiting for him.
“Mother,” he said joyously, “I’ve had a great longing to come home and see you. I’ve come to say once again the simple prayer you taught me at your knee. I’ve come to find once more the faith of a little child.” That which the busy world had obscured from his vision, he now prized at its true worth, and sought above all else. There at his mother’s knee, he found Christ and His wonderful Salvation, another trophy of a mother’s love.
Joseph Barker, the English infidel writer, tells his story in similar words. He says that he was converted not by arguments of Christian Apologists, but by the memory and teaching of his godly mother, whose purity of character, patience and self-sacrifice far surpassed anything he had ever seen among his infidel friends. In the little Lancashire home she remembered her son constantly in prayer, and these prayers had followed him and haunted him until at last he surrendered to Christ, and confessed Him as his Saviour—another case of triumphant mother-love.
ML 10/01/1961