The reaction was immediate. From all over the room, people rose from their places and began moving forward in response to his invitation. His stirring message had deeply affected them, but Finney’s attention was not directed at the men and women who swarmed the aisles. His eyes were scanning those who yet remained seated. Overwhelmed with compassion for the lost, tears streamed down his cheeks as he cried out: “God so loves the world—so loves you—that he sent Jesus to die for you! Will you reject that love? Would you not rather come and let the King of Kings and Lord of Lords come into your heart?”
Rebekah’s mind reeled from what she had heard. She looked down to see that her hands were trembling, and she closed her eyes, holding back the tears that threatened to overflow. She had been in church every Sunday of her life and could quote large sections of the Bible. It had never occurred to her that her religion was lacking in any way—but now as she sat and listened to the cries of grief rising from those who pressed forward to the anxious seat, she was shaken to the very depths of her soul.
She had never considered herself a sinner; a “sinner” was someone who did things like Mary had done—living a life of drunkenness and immorality. Now she saw that she was in the same condition as the worst sinner, for the preacher had made it abundantly clear that there were no “good” sinners—only lost ones on the way to hell. Stripping away all her defenses, he pointed out that morality, church membership, baptism, good works could not save a soul from hell. She felt alone and naked before the eyes of God!
How long she sat there, she didn’t know, but soon she felt Mary’s hand go around her shoulder and heard her whisper, “You need Jesus as your Savior, Becky—don’t you now?”
Rebekah could not answer, for there was a struggle inside of her. Part of her drew back from what was going on. Some seekers near her had fallen to the floor in an agony of grief, and she had been taught in her own church that such fanaticism was not of God. It was all foreign to her, including the cries of those at the anxious seat and the directness of the church members who moved from person to person, speaking to sinners and urging them to accept Christ.
But in spite of all that, there was a yearning in her heart to find the peace and joy she saw in others. She had found the words of the preacher disturbing, but they had offered her a hope that was very real. “Jesus never fails!” he cried out. “The world will deceive you; your own family may cast you off—but Jesus said, ‘He that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out!’ ”
I will in no wise cast out. In that moment, the thought of her own loneliness broke Rebekah’s heart, and her eyes filled with tears, blurring her vision. “Oh, I need God!” she whispered to Mary. “But I’m so afraid!”
Mary squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s go down and we’ll pray for God to save you, Becky.”
They made their way to the front, which was crowded with many seekers. Mary handed Timmy to a friend she saw there, then turned and said, “Let’s kneel and pray, Becky!”
Falling to her knees, Rebekah could not think. Her heart was filled with grief, and she could not pray aloud. For a long time she knelt and listened as others prayed, hearing Mary’s cries to God on her behalf—but she seemed to be paralyzed, and for a long time could do nothing but cry. Then she felt a firm hand on her arm, pulling her around.
“Young woman, do you desire Christ?”
She found herself looking directly into the eyes of Rev. Finney, whose gaze seemed to slice into the depths of her soul. She nodded mutely, and he said gently, “Don’t be afraid, child! It’s your time to find the Lord. Now, I will pray for you, and I want you to pray as best you can. If you can’t pray out loud, then just call on God in your heart. Tell Him you’re a sinner, and ask Him to forgive you of all your sins in the name of Jesus. Will you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” Rebekah whispered.
He began to pray in a tone that was low but firm, giving Rebekah courage. He had been so somber in the pulpit, but as he knelt beside her, he spoke to God as a man would speak to his friend—very confident, very sure; and this assurance enabled her to pray as well: “Lord, save me for Jesus’ sake!”
The moment she did, a peace flooded her, and she gave a glad cry of joy. Finney looked up and said, “You are converted, are you not? Jesus has come into your heart?”
“Yes! Oh, yes!”
“Glory to God! Now, you must ask God to fill you with His Holy Spirit—for you will need much strength for what lies before you.” He noted her startled look and added hastily, “Oh no—I know nothing about you, except that the Lord has told me that you have a difficult path to walk, and He wants to give you a double portion of His grace. Will you ask Him for this?”
Although she did not understand fully what he meant, Rebekah bowed her head and prayed, “Lord, fill me with your Holy Spirit.” She prayed this several times as the reverend put his hand on her head and prayed with her. In a few minutes, she felt a wave of joy rush through her, and she lifted her hands and began to praise God as she never had before! She was not conscious of the crowds around her—only that God had somehow touched her in a way that she had never thought possible. She leaped to her feet, her hands lifted and tears streaming down her face, and for a long time she just stood there, saying “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Lord!” over and over again.
Rev. Finney smiled at Mary, who was weeping freely for joy. “Sister—there’s a new name written in the Lamb’s Book of Life!”
****
By the last of February, the snow had melted, turning unpaved streets into rivers of mud and yards into quagmires. But the warmer weather cut down on the use of fuel, so Mary and Rebekah didn’t complain.
Their lives had settled into a pattern. Mary went to work in the morning, while Rebekah stayed home and took care of Timmy and the house. She kept the house neat as a pin, and the baby filled her heart. Once she said, “Mary, I feel awful. You do all the work—and I stay home and do nothing.”
“It’s God’s hand at work, Becky,” Mary had replied. “Don’t be faulting the way He does things.”
The two of them went to the church almost every night; Rebekah had never known there was such joy in going to church. She had been apprehensive when she had first gone to pray for a young woman who was struggling with doubt, but the pastor insisted that it was the duty of all believers. The young woman had not been saved, but the following night, Rebekah prayed for another who was. Her work with the church became a joy to her, and she was happy.
Mary came home one afternoon with a newspaper one of the women had given her. As she sat down to eat the meal Rebekah had prepared, Mary had a peculiar look on her face. “Well, Becky, at least now there’s always one thing we can do—to get husbands, I mean.”
“Get a husband?” Rebekah looked up quickly, frowning. “What are you talking about, Mary?”
“Look . . .” She held up a newspaper with Puget Sound Herald emblazoned across the front. “Look at this—no, I’ll read it to you.” She found a notice in the middle section of the paper and began to read aloud:
“ ‘Attention—Ladies of the East! If you are seeking a new life, Oregon is your answer. The men outnumber ladies fifteen to one, so the situation is desperate! Many fine men who would make wonderful husbands are wretched for want of comfortable homes, and would lose no time in allying themselves with the fair daughters of Eve if they would deign to favor us with their presence!’ ”
Rebekah laughed out loud at the last sentence. “He must have gotten that from a romantic novel, Mary! Nobody ever actually talks like that!” Then she cast an unbelieving look at the paper. “Advertising for brides! I never heard of such a thing!”
“Just you wait, now,” Mary said quickly. “He goes on to say as how a man named Asa Mercer came east last spring and got over a hundred women to go to Oregon. ’Course, he made a call for schoolteachers—but everyone knew that was just for the looks of things. Says every one of them women got husbands, soon as they got there.”
“You’re
not really thinking of going!” Rebekah stared at Mary in disbelief.
Mary dropped her head for a moment, then looked up and said, “Who’d marry me in this place, Becky? And what about Timmy? You’ve seen what this place makes of kids! They learn to be thieves and grow up to be drunks. I’m thinking maybe it would be different in Oregon. I—I’d be a good wife to a man if I had the chance.”
Rebekah shook her head. “But to marry a man you don’t even know! Why, Mary, I couldn’t do it!”
“I’m surprised you’ve still got them romantic notions left, Becky,” Mary said soberly. “I don’t—had those knocked out of me long ago. All I want is a place for my son, and I’d work my fingers to the bone—and never look at another man—if I could find somebody who’d be decent to me and Timmy!”
Rebekah sat there, trying to fit the pieces together in her mind, but try as she might, she could not reconcile it with her ideas of marriage. “You’re serious, Mary?”
Mary moved her finger down the page and said, “Listen to this, Becky. Here’s another notice about a group that’s going to Oregon next month:
“ ‘A group of responsible bachelors in the Willamette Valley of Oregon have formed an association to promote the institution of marriage in the area. Due to the scarcity of unmarried women in Oregon, the association will provide free transportation to Oregon City for any woman who qualifies. There are some positions open as schoolteachers and music teachers, but the primary purpose of the program is to bring marriageable women into the territory.
“ ‘Any woman who is healthy, unmarried, and who will consider marriage to one of our citizens may qualify. The virtue of all women who engage in this enterprise will be carefully guarded, and there will be a minister of the gospel to serve as a chaplain on the journey. There will be no pressure on any lady to marry any individual. Any lady who does not wish to remain in Oregon Territory will have her passage paid back to New York.
“ ‘Any woman interested in this venture can apply in person on March 15, 1839, to a representative of the association at the State Hotel in New York City. Space is limited, so membership in the association will be selected on a first come, first serve basis. Applicants should ask for Mr. Winslow.’ ”
Rebekah brushed the idea aside. “I couldn’t do it, Mary.”
Mary didn’t argue. “We better hurry and eat. I don’t want to be late to the meeting.” She could see that the idea disturbed Rebekah, but her own mind was made up. As they walked toward the church, both of them were quiet. Finally, Rebekah spoke up. “I’d miss you, Mary—and Timmy; why, he’s almost like my own!”
Mary smiled. “Best not to worry about it—Mr. Finney used to say we spend so much time worrying about what might happen tomorrow that we don’t have the strength to bear our trials for today! I don’t really expect it’ll work out—but I’m going to meet that Winslow man! Anything that’ll get my boy a daddy and a home—I’ll do it!”
CHAPTER SIX
SPECTER IN THE CITY
Just as the rigors of winter passed away from the city, a far more critical problem struck. Cholera in its most virulent form descended and struck without warning; young and old, rich and poor were equally defenseless against its onslaught. At first there were only a few isolated cases, like scattered drops of rain before a deluge, but by the first of March every block in the city knew the undertaker’s carriage and had heard the agonized weeping of the survivors.
The rich took refuge in the country, but Mary and Rebekah had nowhere to go. Mary’s meager earnings were scarcely enough to keep them going from one day to the next, so like the vast army of the poor, they remained in the city. Two families in their little cluster of houses were ravaged by the disease; despite the danger of infection, Mary insisted on going to help prepare the bodies. She had been adamantly against Rebekah’s accompanying her, however, saying, “One of us has to be well to take care of Timmy.”
The attendance at church grew as the plague claimed more and more lives. “It’s a shame that people have to have trouble to make them get right with the Lord,” Mary said one day as they got to church at their usual time and saw that all the seats were occupied. They found standing room only, but when the ministers came out to the platform, Rev. Finney was not among them.
Brother White, the song leader, came to the center of the stage and said, “We must be much in prayer. Brother Finney is ill.” A murmur of dismay rose, but White put up his hand for silence. “It is time for the church to have faith. Our assistant pastor, Brother Reynolds, has been struck down as well. Tonight, I feel that instead of preaching, we should go to prayer for our pastors and for all others in our fellowship and in this city who are ill.”
The church prayed fervently, but the next night, there was a somber look on Brother White’s face. “We suffer loss, friends—Brother Reynolds went to be with the Lord early this morning. He died praising God. Now, we must pray for Brother Finney—pray as we never have prayed before for this servant of God!”
“It was so quick!” Rebekah said in a subdued voice when they got home. “Brother Reynolds was fine day before yesterday—and now he’s gone!” She was dressing Timmy in his nightgown while Mary made his little bed. “I feel so helpless, Mary!”
“ ‘Our help cometh from the Lord,’ ” Mary quoted in a tired voice. “That’s what the Scripture says, and at times like these all we can do is trust to God and His promises.”
After Timmy was asleep, the two women sat at the table to read a chapter in the Bible and pray, as they always did. Each night one of them would select a portion, read it, and then they would discuss it briefly before praying. Mary opened her Bible and read Psalm 23, and when she had finished, she closed her eyes and began to pray. There was, Rebekah noticed, a weariness that crept into Mary’s voice, and from time to time she would stop praying and sit there silently. She’s working too hard, Rebekah thought.
Finally they sat with their heads bowed, praying silently. Tired to the bone, Rebekah was about to rise and go to bed, but a thought came into her mind, not once but several times. She knew it was a verse of Scripture, but she could not place it. Finally she said, “Mary, I keep thinking of something—and I think the Lord may be telling one of us something.”
“What is it, Rebekah?”
“Well—it’s a little like a Bible verse, but not quite. It’s like someone was whispering inside me: ‘Don’t be afraid! I am the Almighty God, and my arms are under you. Am I not the helper of the fatherless? I am merciful and gracious, and my mercy is from everlasting to everlasting, and my righteousness is unto my children’s.’ ”
She stared across the table, her eyes troubled. “I don’t know what it means. Is it from the Bible, Mary?”
“Some of it is.” Leafing through her worn Bible, she came to a page. “ ‘Thou art the helper of the fatherless.’ That’s Psalm 10:14.” She studied the page and said, “I guess that’s plain enough. My Timmy is fatherless.”
“And my baby will be too,” Rebekah added quietly. “I think the part about not being afraid is for me. Even though I’ve found Christ, sometimes I get to thinking about how my baby will make it, and fear just rises up in me.”
Mary reached over and squeezed Rebekah’s arm. “I think the rest of what you said is somewhere in the Psalms too. Let’s see if we can find it.”
They started searching, and finally Mary said, “Here it is! It’s in Psalm 103—in verses 8 and 17!” While Rebekah found the place, Mary looked at her thoughtfully. “The word of God has come to you, Rebekah! Look what it says in verse 17: ‘But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children’s.’ ”
Rebekah read aloud the last phrase: “ . . . and his righteousness unto children’s.” She looked up and tears glittered in her eyes as she said in wonder, “Why—that’s Timmy and my baby, Mary! God says He’ll take care of them!”
“If God says it,” Mary announced, “then that settles it! I’ve been so afrai
d that this cholera would strike Timmy, but God says He’s going to help the fatherless—and that’s all there is to it! Glory to God!”
“I think that’s right!” Rebekah answered happily. “I never knew God would speak to people like this! I’m not going to doubt Him anymore!”
Mary said slowly, “I hope you won’t, Becky—but it gets hard sometimes. Right now we’ve heard from God, and we’re feeling happy—but we have to remember times like these when things get bad.” She paused, and her face brightened. “But God has given us a promise—and we’ll help each other to remember it!”
For a week Brother Finney lingered between life and death, but on the next Sunday, March 6, it was announced that he was through the crisis, and the church went wild with joy. “I knew the Lord wouldn’t take him from us!” Mary cried out happily.
The following Tuesday she came home from work early, her face pale with fatigue. “I’m feeling a bit down, dear,” she said to Rebekah. “But I think if I lie down a bit, it’ll pass.”
Rebekah’s heart sank, but she kept a smile on her face, saying, “It’s probably just a bad cold. You get into bed and I’ll fix you some warm broth.”
But it was not a cold, and both of them knew it. Mary’s fever rose and the diarrhea and vomiting began. By morning she was delirious, but in those brief moments when she was herself, she cried out to Rebekah, her eyes wide with fear. “My Timmy! Take him out of here!”
“He’s over at the Satterfields—don’t worry, Mary,” Rebekah said. By noon she was worse, and one of the neighbors managed to get an overworked doctor named Gleason to stop by. The thin man was haggard, and his eyes were hollow from lack of sleep. Bending over Mary, he examined her briefly, then lifted his eyes to Rebekah. “You know what this is?”
“It’s the cholera, isn’t it, Doctor?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Are you a relative?”
The Reluctant Bridegroom Page 6