“Pastor Carmichael furthermore stated that the Lordship of Christ can be defined by two questions: Do we accept the premise that God the Father has placed his resurrected Son, Jesus, over all things, including us? And, do we accept the premise that God has given us his unchanging, infallible word to speak truth into every area of our lives?
“This morning we shall revisit the question, ‘Do we accept the premise that God has given us his unchanging, infallible word to speak truth into every area of our lives?’ Our text today is from the second half of James 1:21. It reads:
“Receive with meekness the engrafted word,
which is able to save your souls.
“Let us divide and examine these lines with care and precision. First, James gives us instruction in the imperative voice: Receive. He makes no distinction as to whom he is speaking; it is a command directed at whomever is reading his epistle: You! You there! You receive. We may each insert our own name into the verse to experience how personal is the command: You! Yaochuan Min Liáng! You receive!
“If we accept James’ injunction as a personal command to us to receive, we may move on to how we are to receive—that is, receive with meekness.
“Meekness should not be confused with weakness, a deficiency of either physical or moral strength. Numbers 12:3 tells us that Moses was the meekest man upon the face of the earth, and yet we know he was, by no means, a weak man. Rather, he was humble before God, deferring to his ways, knowing his place in God’s plans, while not displaying a sense of self-importance.
“Meekness is both humility and deference. It is knowing who we are—and who we are not. We begin by saying, ‘Lord, you are God Almighty—and I am not.’ This exalts God to his proper place while we acknowledge that our place is in submission to him. This is meekness.
“What, then, are we commanded to receive with meekness, with humility and deference? We are to receive with meekness the engrafted word. God’s word must not merely cross our minds and touch our understanding. It must be grafted onto our hearts, the very seat of our understanding and being.
“We are familiar with the grafting of a superior strain of fruit onto the rootstock of a less desirable or lesser quality tree: A slit is made in the trunk or a primary branch of the tree. A fresh shoot of the superior strain is inserted into the slit. The shoot—called the scion—and the slit in the rootstock are then bound together until the shoot grows into the rootstock and becomes one with it.
“May I be perfectly plain? God desires for his word—the superior strain—to be engrafted onto our hearts—the less desirable strain. We have an important part in this process: Our hearts must be willing to receive the superior strain and bear and support its growth. As a result of this union, our lives produce the fruit of the superior strain, the scion.
“It is no coincidence that ‘scion’ means both ‘offspring’ and ‘heir,’ for are we not the offspring of God through Christ Jesus and joint heirs of eternal life with him? Thus, when we receive with meekness the engrafted word of God, Christ is formed in us, and his living presence in our lives saves our souls.
“In human terms, the engrafting of God’s word cannot be a strictly painless process. The verse begins with an injunction for me to receive the word with meekness, that is, proper humility, deference, and lack of self-importance. However, like the slice that must be made in the rootstock, the Holy Spirit must slice open my heart to make a place of entrance for the graft of God’s word.
“My fleshly heart will resist! It will not like being slit open, nor will it welcome the entrance of a superior strain of thought and opinion that supplants its own. You see, the human heart prefers its own counsel, for it is by our own counsel that we rationalize our sinful ways and justify our evil deeds.
“What does God say regarding our thoughts and ways? How does he contrast and compare his thoughts and opinions with our own? Isaiah 55:8 and 9 declare:
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways,
and my thoughts than your thoughts.
“Nothing in my thoughts can ever approach God’s thoughts; nothing in my ways can ever approach his ways. His thoughts, his opinions, his standards, his decrees are and shall always be higher—that is, superior—to mine.
“To receive the engrafted word of God, then, is to allow the Holy Spirit to slice open the deepest part of our self-will and implant the living, active, powerful thoughts and ways of the Lord Almighty. To receive the engrafted word of God is to give place and preeminence to it, to acknowledge it as the ‘superior strain,’ and to allow it to bear its fruit upon the efforts of our rootstock.”
Minister Liáng let his message settle with the people, sensing that the Spirit was about his holy work of convincing and convicting.
“If you recall a previous message in this series, Pastor Carmichael spoke on the bondage of self-deception. He stated that of all deception, self-deception is the most insidious—for when we deceive ourselves, we do not even perceive that we are deceived.
“Now, please allow me to connect today’s message on the engrafting of God’s word with our previous study of self-deception. And I must teach this in personal form, so that no ear listening to me can misunderstand the gravity of this passage, the serious state of hearing God’s word without allowing it entrance to our hearts. Listen, friends! Listen with open, teachable hearts:
“If I hear God’s word and reject its authority over me?
“If I hear God’s word and disagree with it?
“If I hear God’s word and deny it the prerogative to shape my standards and principles?
“If I hear God’s word and do not allow it to correct my opinions?
“If I hear God’s word and refuse to acknowledge that God is right, and I am wrong?
“If I hear God’s word but reject its application to my life?
“If my response to God’s word is a ‘but’ that provides my behavior an exception to or exemption from God’s word?”
Minister Liáng looked out over his congregation, speaking under the power of the Holy Spirit.
“Then, my brothers and sisters, Christ is not the Lord of my life, and I have entered into self-deception.”
THAT EVENING, PALMER House’s great room was filled. Present were Rose, Sarah, Olive, Mr. Wheatley, Billy and Marit Evans, Edmund and Joy O’Dell, Isaac and Breona Carmichael, Minister and Mei-Xing Liáng, Mason and Tabitha Carpenter, and Albert and Corrine Johnston, as well as Emily Van der Pol, Grace Minton, and Viola Lind.
Several of the girls of Palmer House were engaged three flights up in the house’s vast attic rooms where they watched over the lively group of children also brought together by the evening’s guests.
Sarah and Olive served tea and cookies around the great room amid happy conversation. It was not often that these people—those who had been at the center of Palmer House’s beginnings a decade past and who shared so much history—were able to gather at the same time.
Joy had asked them to come together that she might speak of her burden for missing children.
When the group had fellowshipped for the space of half an hour, Joy asked for their attention. “Thank you for coming this evening. I have something upon my heart that I wish to share with you.”
Joy gathered herself. “You, our dearest friends, stood by me when Dean Morgan took our baby, Edmund, and when Grant passed shortly after. I realize it has been eight years since Edmund was taken, and it is hard to imagine that he is now eight years old”—here her voice cracked—“but in the years that have passed, you have been faithful to pray with us and believe that the Lord will, someday, bring him back to us.”
Minister Liáng spoke up. “Time means nothing to our God, Joy. We and our families will never give up on friends or family members who walk away from Jesus, and we shall never give up on those who have been tak
en from us. We shall not fail to pray for your son Edmund, Joy.”
Joy swallowed. “Thank you. Thank you all. Your pledge to pray and believe that God will return Edmund to us has given me great comfort and strength.”
Joy drew a deep breath and continued, “As we have experienced many times, a family that is committed to the Lord has tremendous power in prayer. Papa used to say, ‘In God, the lost are found.’ We made his saying, Lost Are Found, our banner with regards to our baby son.” She cleared her throat. “And now, I believe the Lord wishes me to reach out to other parents who find themselves in similar dire straits.”
Joy described Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, the young couple who had appealed to the Pinkertons to find their missing child, and how her husband had called upon her to speak to them of her own loss.
“No one understands how devastating it is when your child has gone missing or has been taken—no one but another parent who has suffered a similar tragedy. Edmund and I were, by the grace of God, able to lead this bereft mother and father to the Savior, and it was through this encounter that I felt the Lord speak to me about aiding other families of missing children.”
Joy outlined her ideas for a loose association to encourage and minister to parents of lost children. “We would employ all avenues open to us—such as newspaper and radio—to spread word to the public to watch for these children. And, in remembrance of Papa and our own motto, we would call the association Lost Are Found.”
When she had finished speaking, the group engaged in an hour of lively questions and proposals.
Then, Mr. Wheatley’s quavering voice spoke up. “I have something I wish to say.”
“Certainly, dear Mr. Wheatley,” Joy responded.
“I never married, never had children. You who are in this room have been my family—my only family—for more than a decade. You have cared for me when I was sick, you have fed me and seen to my needs, and you have loved me. I do not know where I would be without all of you. And you, Miss Joy? We been through a lot together; you are as dear to me as a daughter. Your babies are like my own grandsons.”
His voice shook with more than age. “I have done what I could to keep this grand old lady of a house in working order and her grounds shipshape. Seems, though, to my very great chagrin, that I have neither the stamina nor the strength I once had, and I fear that what I do no longer pays my way here.”
Murmurs of denial swept the room, and it was Rose who put into words what the others were thinking. “Mr. Wheatley, your kind, loving, and stabilizing presence in this home is priceless, particularly to the girls who live here. Many of them have never had the friendship of a father or grandfather. Your position in this house is, without question, invaluable and irreplaceable.”
Sarah found herself agreeing with Rose. Mr. Wheatley was the only man of her acquaintance she fully trusted—but she did not see how his statement related to Joy’s proposed organization. “Mr. Wheatley? Perhaps you have more to say?”
“Yup. I suppose I said all that to say this: I may not be as productive as I once was, but I would very much like to help with Joy’s idea by the making of some signs. They would read, simply, Lost Are Found. Palmer House, where it all started, would get the first one. It may take me a bit o’ time but, as I am able to make more of them, I would give signs to all of you, our faithful friends.”
Mason, Tabitha’s husband, appeared thoughtful. “What would we do with these signs, Mr. Wheatley?”
“I had thought we would put them beside the doors of our homes . . . to remind us to pray.”
Joy immediately grasped Mr. Wheatley’s meaning. “I think I understand! The signs would serve as a reminder to us to continue to pray for Edmund’s return—but also, as our organization grows, we could offer the signs to other parents of lost children. The signs would then serve a second, broader purpose, a means of uniting and strengthening this association of bereaved parents and of making the public aware of these missing children.”
“That’s it,” Mr. Wheatley wheezed. “That’s it in a nutshell.”
“I, fer one, am likin’ th’ idee o’ these signs,’ Breona declared. “Aye, we bin livin’ an’ a-prayin’ by this motto near on a decade—bu’ what aboot our bairn? These signs be a means o’ tellin’ them Edmund’s story an’ passin’ on our faith t’ them.”
“Yes, passing on our faith to our children,” Tabitha repeated. “We have given birth to a new generation, and our children will not know or care about Edmund unless we tell them, unless we remind them to pray with us for his salvation and his return. These signs will help ensure that our shared history of what God has done for us—and what we believe he will do—is rehearsed to the upcoming generation and the generation after that.”
She looked from face to face. “Who here can know the importance of passing on this legacy, in God the lost are found? Who can know how vital these signs and their message will prove to our grandchildren and great-grandchildren?”
Tabitha’s words were potent, filled, perhaps, with prophetic power. The gathering stilled to consider them.
“Well said, Tabitha,” Minister Liáng murmured. “Well said, indeed.”
Billy spoke up. “I shall help you with the signs, Mr. Wheatley. You and I together can get them done in quick time.”
“Thank you, Billy. Knew I could count on you. Started working on the first one when I heard Miss Joy tell Miss Rose ‘bout her idea.”
Sarah leaned forward when Mr. Wheatley produced a length of finished metal eighteen inches long and possibly four inches high. He held it up. The background of the sign was painted a dark green; the plain, raised lettering was painted white and read: LOST ARE FOUND.
Mr. Wheatley’s shaking hands offered the sign to O’Dell, and he and Joy studied it together.
“It is perfect, Mr. Wheatley,” Joy whispered. “Perfect.”
“May we have the second of these?” O’Dell asked. “As you suggested, we shall mount it next to our front door to remind us of the faithfulness of God’s promises and prompt us to pray daily.”
“We shall take one and do the same,” Mei-Xing and Minister Liáng chimed in together.
“As shall we,” Isaac Carmichael and Albert Johnston echoed at the same time.
Emily, Grace, and Viola said the same.
Joy was overcome. “Thank you. Thank you all. I am grateful to you, our family and friends!”
“Mr. Wheatley, how many can you and Billy make?” Rose asked.
“As many as we be needing.”
“Mama and I had thought to write to our family and friends in RiverBend and Omaha, explaining our organization,” Joy said. “Søren and Meg. Brian and Fiona. Pastor and Vera Medford. David and Uli. Arne and Anna. Karl, Kjell, and their families.”
“I am certain they will join us and ask for signs for their homes, too,” Rose added.
Mei-Xing, who had been quiet and thoughtful for much of the meeting, asked a question. “Joy? How do you propose to spread the word regarding the association? Through the Pinkertons? Denver is distant and somewhat disconnected from the real population centers of the country.”
Joy looked to her husband. He nodded once; Joy then turned her eyes to her lap before saying, “Yes, the Pinkertons will be most helpful. Of course, as you suggest, what might be needed is a more . . . centralized headquarters for the association.”
The room quieted again. Mei-Xing stared steadily at Joy, waiting for her to continue, but it was O’Dell who spoke.
“Not soon, not next year, but within two to three years, I may be offered a new position: head of the Chicago Pinkerton office.”
Sarah could not believe her ears. “You would move? Away?”
“Nothing has been decided, of course, but I have been . . . approached.”
“Chicago would provide a more effective hub from which to grow the association,” Joy said softly.
Sarah turned. “And you, Miss Rose?”
Rose met Sarah’s concerned gaze. “When they move, I shall
likely retire and go with them. However, this is still some time in the future, and we wish this possibility to remain between those of us in this room. At the same time, we covet your prayers for the Lord’s guidance.”
Sarah’s thoughts churned. Two or three years? In three years, Rose will be seventy-four.
I wanted to come alongside her and help her manage Palmer House, take some of the burden from her shoulders. But if Joy sells her shop and moves? If Rose retires and goes with them?
Sarah knew she could never fill Rose’s shoes. Not in a million years.
What would become of Palmer House? What would become of me?
She felt the sure footing of her world crack and fall out from under her.
EARLY MONDAY MORNING, Sarah closed the front door of Palmer House behind her and spotted the sign Mr. Wheatley had displayed last evening. It was freshly mounted to the wall beside the door jamb. Her fingertips traced the even, white letters: LOST ARE FOUND.
While her fingers remained on the sign, Sarah prayed for the return of Joy’s son, but in her heart, she was consumed with her own situation—with Rose’s possible departure and, worse, the failing state of her heart.
It was the first time she had acknowledged her precarious spiritual condition.
Without Joy’s shop and Palmer House, who would I be? No one. I would be jobless and alone in the world.
Her breath caught as a dark voice whispered, You would not be alone. You would have Lola.
Desire stirred within her as she recalled their entwined fingers and Lola’s seductive touch. Sarah shivered. She hurried down the walk toward the gate, praying as she went—or was she pleading?
Lord, you are the God of the impossible! But can you save me from myself?
Can you, Lord? For I fear you cannot.
Chapter 14
Another week passed. Another Sunday dawned.
The contingent from Palmer House, including Sarah, walked to church and occupied two rows in the congregation. Blythe planted herself by Sarah’s side, between Sarah and Rose.
Sarah Redeemed Page 17