In a small hut in Santa Cruz mountains lives a poor widow —aged, deaf, paralyzed and helpless. Unable to do anyrhing for herself, she is dependent upon others for the bare necessaries of life. Let me tell you what this hut, this house of hers, is like—walls of mud and stones, the roof thatched with palm-leaves, no window, only a door to admit light and air. The one room the hut contains has a floor of mud, and the only pieces of furniture are a wooden box and a bedstead, also of wood, on which is a pallet of dried leaves. On this hard pallet poor Isabella has lain, day after day, night after night, for years, how many she cannot remember.
Outside, the flowers bloom brilliantly, but she sees them not; the sky overhead is azure blue, and not far off the sea dances and sparkles in the golden sunshine, but it is nothing to her. There is nothing for her to see but the bare walls of her desate hut.
Let us enter and speak to her: we tell her of the love of God, and she murmurs,
“He hath said, ‘I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,’ and when He sees fit He’ll take me to be with Himself.” We remind her that the Lord is soon coming again, and she says,
“Yes; He says, ‘Surely I come quickly’ —ask Him to come soon.” We try to make her more comfortable on her poor bed, and she says,
“It is a rough and thorny road. I know it, but underneath are His everlasting arms, and I feel them there.”
Is there any discontent? Any murmuring at her hard lot? No; and why do you think this is, dear children? Because she is happy in her heart, the Lord Jesus has filled her heart with His own love, and made her happy in Himself. Like the apostle Paul, she has learned to be content. But if the Lord loves her, why does He leave her so long in that poor place, you may ask. Ah! perhaps it is that she may give joy to His own heart by saying to Him,
“Come, Lord Jesus,” and to teach a leon of patience and content to those who have not yet learned that lesson.
When we are discontented, and perhaps inclined to murmur, even though our lot be a happy and fair one compared with hers, let us think of poor Isabella, nay, happy Isabella, happy now, and soon she will leave that poor hut for the courts of glory, and her lonely life for the presence of the Lord.
ML 09/28/1941