Jesus said to Peter, "Feed my sheep." One way to reach his sheep has been opened to us through our periodicals, whereby we may tell of our healing through the Christ-truth. For this we need "the tongues of men and of angels however;" lest I seem ungrateful for this great blessing, I will try to give my testimony.
Divine Love met my need in a very dark hour. The promise, "All things work together for good to them that love God" had bridged over many trying experiences for years, and my religion had been a great comfort to me from girlhood; but a time came when my understanding of this promise could give me no further help, when illness came to abide with me. Logically, from my standpoint, this must be one of the "all things," and yet, how could chronic sickness "work good" to me, His child, who loved Him?
An operation was the one hope held out, and that, an eminent physician told me, could not promise certain results. I was kindly urged by another to have it done at once, for suffering would inevitably bring me to the operating table. For good reasons I was strongly opposed to the operation, and decided to fight off its certain and uncertain results as long as possible, meanwhile using all remedial helps available. Yet those words hung in my memory, and came slowly but surely to fulfilment during the following three years. Pain grew to be my constant companion, and more and more incapacitated me for my family duties. I prayed for resignation, and at first found some measure of comfort in believing that, it might make me a better woman and so "work good" out of this darkness. This hope was, however, soon dispelled, for with incessant pain came an almost unconquerable nervous condition of impatience, and the exercise of "will power" left me weary of striving. I prayed earnestly, beseechingly; being even ready to suffer, if need be, without a murmur, asking only that I might be permitte I to go about my daily duties, to be cheerful and patient, and not be made to overturn the peaceful order of the home life. Yet the couch claimed more and more of my precious time, and I could not understand the Creator who, little by little, seemed to disable His child. Recognizing this as rebellion with what I had been told was God's plan for perfecting us, there now came in addition, mental suffering,—fear of alienation from God. The more I prayed the farther off He seemed to be. It seemed that none of my prayers were heard, or if heard, they were not answered, and so I ceased to pray and just cried out, "God, God, I don't know how to pray, but you have said that you know what we need before we ask it. Now give it to me,—this that I need!" And this, my first true prayer, was answered speedily. In it I had declared truth, in the others begged for what I now see to be an evil,—resignation to suffering.
