Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come and follow me.

  “But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful: for he had great possessions.”

  Irons closed his Bible, looked out over the upturned faces, then said clearly, “Let me speak to you this day about disguises.” A mutter ran through the ranks, and a slight smile came to the lips of the speaker. “Did you hear the story I just read? It’s a story about a man who was an impostor. A man who came to Jesus under false colors, wearing a disguise. Oh, not with a false beard or dyed hair! And to speak honestly, I don’t think this impostor was even aware that he was wearing a disguise.”

  Jake discovered that his hands were sweating, even in the biting cold, and he wiped them on his coat. He had the sudden impression that he was standing all alone in the vast field with Irons looking right at him! Unpleasant sensations had begun to work on him from the instant Jackson had asked, “Have you put your trust in Jesus?”

  Jake Hardin was not a man of quick emotions; in fact, he had always distrusted emotional reactions. Now, however, he stood there with a weakness such as he had never known, and as Irons continued, he could only stare at the snow and try to conceal what was happening to him.

  “This fine young man, the rich ruler who came to Jesus,” Irons continued, “would have been a welcome addition to any church in town. I haven’t heard of any church in Richmond turning down wealthy young men, have you?” A ripple of laughter went over the crowd, and Irons smiled, waiting for it to pass. “He was a moral young chap, much better than I was at his age. Better, in fact, than most of you! He had kept the commandments. Think of that! He had kept the commandments of God from his youth!”

  He spoke of how difficult it was for a Jew to keep the multitude of laws and ordinances that made up Judaism; then his voice rose as he called out, “But I show you a greater mystery than that, and it is this: It did not matter that he had kept the rules of his religion—he was not accepted by Jesus Christ as a disciple! What does that mean? It means that not a one of us can come to Jesus because we are good. It doesn’t matter that we are church members, that we have not lied or stolen as others. No! That will not do!”

  Irons began to relate sections of scripture to his listeners, using illustration after illustration to show that it was not morality that God required, that there was nothing in any man that could earn him salvation.

  “Now about the disguise,” he said. “This rich, moral, upstanding young man had done much to appear good. He was, in fact, disguised by his good deeds—that is, he had put on robes of public righteousness. His fellow men saw him as a good young man, one who certainly was right with God. But Jesus saw through his disguise with one look—one look and He saw the heart of the young ruler. And what did He see? Why, He saw a man who loved money more than anything else! The young man had disguised this part of himself from men, but he couldn’t hide it from God!”

  The congregation was very still as Irons went on. There was an air of strain about them, and more than one soldier, Rachel noticed, was affected by the sermon. Irons said finally, “Some of you are here wearing a disguise. You know that you are not the man you appear to be. Some of you have worn many masks; some of you have played so many roles and been so many things that you no longer know who you are!”

  Jake started, his shoulders jerking back, and suddenly he lifted his head and stared at the preacher. “But God knows who you are! Yes, He knows, and the glorious thing about it is that, knowing the worst about you—the awful, terrible things you wouldn’t want your best friends to know—even knowing those things, He loves you! And here is what I’ve come to tell you today: Don’t be afraid of God, for despite what you are, He loves you! That’s the heart of the gospel. Not what good things you do for God, but what a grand and terrible thing He has done for you. Jesus is the friend of sinners. He came to die for sinners, just like you and me!”

  A few cries began to go up, and then as Irons stopped abruptly and looked out over the crowd, he said, “I feel the Spirit of God working right now, and I invite you, no matter who you are or how you may have run from God—come and trust in Jesus! He is your friend, your hope, your salvation. And He is waiting for you to come and accept His love.”

  At once the song leader began to sing:

  Just as I am, without one plea,

  But that Thy blood was shed for me,

  And that Thou bidd’st me come to Thee,

  O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

  The words seemed to pierce Jake Hardin like swords, and—to his amazement—he felt tears rise to his eyes! He had not wept since he was a child, and now he felt ashamed to show such weakness. He was aware that many men were making their way toward the platform—and he felt an urge to go with them. He was trembling almost violently, and a war was taking place in his spirit, a war that frightened him. He stood there, longing to go forward but filled with fear.

  Rachel was aware of the struggle and finally put her hand on Jake’s arm. “Why don’t you go ask Brother Irons to pray for you?”

  Jake could not speak, and Rachel longed to say more but was afraid to. Finally she lifted her head and caught the eye of Irons. He was looking right at her, and she motioned toward the trembling man on her left with a slight gesture of her head.

  At once Irons came toward them, making his way through the crowd. He stopped in front of Jake and asked quietly, “You need God, Vince. Will you let me pray for you?”

  Jake wanted to say no, but almost without volition, he found himself nodding. He felt Jeremiah’s hands on his shoulders and knew that the chaplain was praying—but he could not understand the words because of the fierce battle going on in his mind. It came to this: He knew he was a liar and an impostor, and how could he come to God unless he confessed that, to God and to those he was deceiving?

  Finally when Irons asked, “Will you put your trust in Jesus?” Jake shivered like a man who had been hit by a bullet. He longed to agree, to fall on his knees and let God in.

  But he did not.

  He lifted his head, allowing Irons to read in his eyes the tortured state of his spirit. Then he whispered huskily, “I—can’t—do it!” He turned and walked away, making his way as rapidly as he could out of the crowd.

  “Rachel,” Irons said at once, turning to the woman whose face bore a stricken expression, “I’ve never seen a man more under conviction. You’ll have to be patient. Pray for him, as I will.” Irons slapped his hands together sharply, and pain was in his fine eyes. “He came so close!”

  Rachel nodded, her own heart filled with sorrow. “Can he—will he find his way, Rev. Irons?”

  “I pray he will—but for now, he’s running hard. We can only pray that the Lord will catch up to him before it’s too late!”

  CHAPTER 18

  NEW YEAR’S MIRACLE

  The smell of pies, cakes, baked meats, barbecue, and other spicy aromas filled the air on Christmas Day at Lindwood. Men and boys were run out of kitchens with dire warnings as the cooks prepared the succulent dishes. At three o’clock the slaves gathered in the barn, where planks had been placed across sawhorses to make tables. Lanterns were hung across the ceiling, and the food was stacked high.

  Hams, chickens, ducks, turkeys, and wild game of every sort—all cooked to perfection—covered one table, and a variety of steaming vegetables in huge pots bowed another. Potatoes with thick gravy, yams that dripped syrup, mountains of biscuits, pans of fragrant corn bread, and rolls fresh from the oven added to the feast. And the children swarmed around the desserts: peach cobblers, apple pies, tarts, blackberry muffins, taffy, and candy.

  Major Franklin asked a brief blessing, then lifted his head and smiled. “All right, let’s get at it!”

  There was a scramble, and Jake stood back, watching with a slight smile as the slaves piled their plates high with food. When the first rush was over, he moved to the tables
and got some of the food, but more for appearance than because he was hungry. Since his experience at the camp meeting, he had eaten little and slept only fitfully. The shock of the emotional impact had faded, but he could not stop thinking about what had occurred.

  Rachel was helping Melora bring in the gifts for the slaves, but she looked around for Jake. She had noticed how he had kept to himself since the night of the camp meeting, clear evidence of how the experience had shaken him. There was no time to go to him now, though, for the slaves were waiting with expectant smiles. Each time she handed out a gift, the recipient would cry out, “Chris’mas gift!” and there was a constant stream of giggles and shouts of pleasure as the gifts were unwrapped. Most of the gifts were clothing, but candy and other small favors were handed to the smaller children.

  When the last of the gifts for the slaves was handed out, Rachel finally went to Jake. She took a small package with her and, when she reached him, said, “Christmas gift!”

  Jake looked up, startled, then took the package from her, asking, “What is it?”

  “It’s a toecover.”

  Jake stared at her. “It’s a what?”

  Rachel laughed at his expression. She was wearing a red dress with white bows, and her hair gleamed as it caught the yellow rays of the lanterns overhead. “Oh, you’ve forgotten! A toecover is what we always called a useless sort of gift—something that’s pretty but not good for anything.”

  He smiled and unwrapped the paper, then looked up to say, “It’s not a toecover.” He dropped the paper and looked closely at the heavy gold ring with the brilliant red stone. “It’s a fine gift,” he murmured.

  “Well, I didn’t really buy it. It belonged to Mother’s grandfather, Noah Rocklin. He left it to Mother, but she never did anything with it. I got her to let me give it to you.” Her dimples flashed as she added mischievously, “I know how given you are to foppish attire—and it seemed like just the thing for a dandy.”

  Jake didn’t respond to her teasing. He just looked at the ring, then slipped it on the third finger of his right hand. She couldn’t know he was thinking, I’ll have to give this to Vince. It’s part of the family. But he was pleased with the thought that had spurred Rachel’s gift and said, “That was fine of you to think of such a thing. But it’s like you to do a nice thing for someone.” He took her hand and, to her complete surprise, kissed it. “Thank you, Rachel.”

  Rachel’s eyes mirrored the confusion that swept over her. She bit her lip, then shook her head, saying, “What has happened to you?”

  At once Jake knew he’d made an error and covered himself quickly by saying, “I have a gift for you. It’s in my room. Walk to the house with me, and I’ll give it to you.”

  “All right.” They left the barn, taking the path to the house. As they walked, Rachel wondered if she should ask him what he thought about the camp meeting. But it was a delicate subject, so she kept the conversation on other things. They entered the house, and when they got to his room, he went at once to the bureau. Opening the top drawer, he drew out a small package and came to hand it to her. “Christmas gift,” he said and watched as she took away the wrapping.

  “Why—these are lovely!” She ran her hand over the smooth surface of the silver brush set with mother-of-pearl, then took up the matching comb and ran it through her hair. “How in the world did you know I wanted these? I never said a word to you!”

  “Mother told me,” Jake said. He had discovered from Amy that Rachel had longed for this particular set, which she’d seen in the finest store in Richmond. He had bought it a week earlier, and now he stood there delighting in the sight of her obvious pleasure in the gift. He had given presents to women before but could not remember so enjoying the act. “A woman with hair like yours deserves the best in combs and brushes,” he commented, then again realized that such a speech was out of character for Vince. “After all, if you’re going to marry Leighton Semmes, you’ll have to get used to fancy things. He’s rich, isn’t he?”

  Rachel seemed uncomfortable with the question. She ran the comb through her hair, then turned abruptly and walked over to the window. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  He came over to stand beside her, noting how her skin was translucent as the bright bars of brilliant sunlight bathed her. She had a few freckles across her nose, something he’d never noticed, and there was an inner well of energy about her that threatened to spill over. “What’s to know? He’s rich, healthy, and good looking.” When she didn’t respond, he pulled her around, adding, “That’s better than being poor, sick, and ugly, isn’t it?”

  She giggled and reached up to give his hair a tug. “You fool! Let me alone about Semmes.” Then she dropped her hand, asking curiously, “Why are you so anxious about my love life? You never gave a thought to it before.”

  He shrugged, thinking of the days that had passed since she had come to him as he lay in the hospital. “I guess being helpless and dependent changes a man. I always thought I was a pretty tough fellow, but then when I was flat on my back, not even able to wash my face—” He hesitated, and a shadow came to his eyes. “If you hadn’t come to me, I think I’d have given it all up.”

  They stood there facing one another, and the sunlight fell across the room, filled with millions of motes swarming in the beams. Far off they heard the muted singing of the slaves, a happy sound that floated on the air like a far-off melody. He studied her face, noting that she had the prettiest blue-green eyes imaginable, admiring how the sweep of her jaw was smooth and silky, yet strong—made more so by the cleft in her chin. He was shaken again by the realization of how much she had come to mean to him, and something of his feelings came into his expression, so that she asked at once, “What is it?”

  His feelings washed over him, surprising him with their intensity. He had never thought to tie himself to one woman—but that was exactly what he longed to do with Rachel Franklin. The impossibility of his situation came to him, and he forced himself to smile before she could read the pain that shot through him. “You know the cuckoo bird never builds a nest,” he said, forcing his voice to be light. “She lays her eggs in the nests of other birds, leaving her chicks for the other bird to raise. Sometimes the baby cuckoo is large, so he just pushes the real chicks of the mother bird out to die.”

  Rachel was confused. “Why are you telling me about a cuckoo?”

  “Because you’ve had to take care of me—and I’m just like that big overgrown cuckoo. Taking everything and giving nothing.”

  Her eyes grew soft, and she shook her head. “Maybe it was a little like that at first,” she admitted. “I didn’t like you at all, but now you’re another man.”

  Her words seemed to strike him hard, though she didn’t understand why they should. She had meant them as a compliment and added, “I’ll tell you something amazing, Vince. I’ve decided that if I ever do get married, it’ll be to somebody like you!”

  Pain once again streaked through Jake, and he shook his head, a bitter light glowing dully in his eyes. “No, Rachel, you deserve better than that,” he said. “I guess we better join the others.” Turning, he left the room, and she followed, hurt a little by his abrupt words and by the curt dismissal in his voice. They found Amy in the parlor looking out the window at the children, who were having a snowball fight.

  Looking up, she said in a strange voice, “I want to tell you two something.”

  “What is it, Mother?” Rachel asked. She was still thinking of Vince’s strange behavior, but went to stand beside the wheelchair.

  Amy said without a trace of emotion or excitement, “I’m going to get a gift from the Lord. A belated Christmas present.” She smiled at the bewilderment that crossed Rachel’s face and added, “I’m going to get out of this wheelchair and walk.”

  Rachel blinked with surprise, then said quickly, “I hope so!”

  “It’s not hope anymore,” Amy insisted. “‘Hope deferred maketh the heart sick,’” she quoted. Then she nodded firmly, adding, “T
hat’s what I’ve been doing ever since the accident—hoping. But last night I had an all-night session with God. It was like Jacob wrestling with the angel at Peniel!” A rueful smile came to her lips, and she shook her head with wonder. “I behaved in a very—well, unusual way with the Lord. I just demanded that He touch my leg and heal it!”

  Rachel could not resist a glance down at her mother’s leg, still propped up and looking swollen. “Oh, it’s no better, Rachel,” Amy said quickly. “But God gave me a promise last night. He said I’d be walking before the old year ended.”

  Jake was staring at Amy, disbelief on his face. Amy looked at him, then said, “I think part of my healing is for your benefit, son.” When Jake looked startled, she said, “You’ve got a long way to go, and you need God. But you don’t know if you can trust Him. Isn’t that right?”

  “Why—I guess most men feel like that, Mother.”

  “Yes, they do. But you’ve watched for weeks as I lay in that bed and in this chair, getting worse. And you’ve talked with Dr. Maxwell, and he told you I’d probably never walk again, or at best I’d be limited to using crutches, didn’t he?”

  “Well—”

  “Of course he did! I’m not a fool, and neither are you.” Amy suddenly smiled, then said, “But when you see me walk as well as I ever did, you’ll know that God is able to do anything! Now go on about your business!”

  Dismissed with a wave of Amy’s hand, the two walked back out into the cold air. “Is she losing her mind?” Jake asked, stunned by what he had heard. “I’ve never heard of anything like that!”

  Rachel didn’t answer at once. They walked along the packed snow in silence, each considering what Amy had told them. Finally Rachel said quietly, “Vince, Mama has always been able to hear from God. You know that, too, even though you always laughed at such things. Now I think we’re going to see God do something very wonderful.” Then it seemed to her that the moment had come, and she said quietly, “And I believe that it’s all part of what God began when General Jackson asked you if you’d ever trusted in Jesus.”