Not My Will and The Light in My Window by Francena H. Arnold Read Free Book Online Page B

tell the world!”
    At the railroad station, when it was actually time for Chad to leave, Ellen’s resolution almost failed her. Togetherthey stood in the middle of the great waiting room, and Ellen tried to think of the bright, casual things she had prepared to say to Chad. But they were all gone. Instead, a little voice inside was whispering to her.
    “Speak the word,” it said. “He could still buy you a ticket and take you with him. He doesn’t want to go without you. Think how nice a whole summer with him as his wife would be. Think of his family, waiting to meet you. Speak the word, and when the train pulls out you’ll be sitting beside him on the seat. Just say, ‘Chad, let’s—’”
    “Chad, it’s time to go,” Ellen almost screamed, to drown out the maddening little voice. “Good-bye, darling. I’ll see you in the fall.” Choking back the tears that were threatening to come, she drew his head down and kissed him, gave him a push through the gate, and almost ran from the station.

A fter the first pain of separation had worn off, Chad was genuinely glad to be at home again. He had missed his family more than he had realized. It was good, too, to be active again in the outdoors, after two years of confining study, and it was good to know that by keeping the farm running he was contributing to the rapid recovery of his brother.
    But, along with the joy of reunion with his family, there came to Chad an uneasiness about the state of his own soul. So many things about the farm reminded him of his idolized father, who combined care of souls and bodies in one ministry of healing, and who talked freely to his two sons about his ideals for manhood as he busied himself at farm tasks between calls on his patients.
    Driving the tractor across the fields one sunny morning, Chad pondered one statement of his father’s that kept recurring to his mind: “A man isn’t fit to be adoctor who can’t doctor souls as well as bodies. Sometimes if you cure the soul, the body will take care of itself.”
    “If Dad were here he’d say I’m not fit to be a doctor, then,” Chad told himself. “My soul certainly needs some doctoring before I can do anything for anyone else’s. I couldn’t even take care of the soul of a … a cow! All the folks here think I’m wonderful, but if they only knew the spiritual mess I’m in!”
    One event after another drove barbs into Chad’s tender conscience. On Saturday night Bob seemed troubled. “What’s the matter, old boy?” Chad asked him. “Is there something I can do for you?”
    “You could, but I don’t know if you would,” replied Bob hesitatingly.
    “If it’s within my powers, I promise it in advance.”
    “Well, it’s my Sunday school class that I’m concerned about at present.” Bob smiled at the look of dismay that crept over Chad’s face. “You asked for it, remember. Will you teach it for me until I’m back on my feet?”
    “I promised—and I will. But I fear I can’t do a very good job of it.”
    “You’ll have to get the Lord to show you how. I couldn’t teach them at all if He didn’t map out everything for me in advance.”
    Late that night Chad’s head was bent over his Bible and the quarterly.
But,
he thought,
the Lord isn’t showing me how. Bob must have a better acquaintance with Him than I have.
    On Sunday afternoon Connie said, “Chad, I have charge of the meeting tonight, and just for a little variety, how would it be if you took fifteen minutes or so totell us country young’uns about mission work in the big city, and about some of the big churches you have visited there?”
    “Mission work?” Chad asked blankly.
    “Yes, you know—some of the well-known rescue missions, neighborhood houses, or wherever you’ve been. We’d like to hear about it,” Connie said eagerly.
    “Con,” said Chad with a show of assurance he did not feel, “I’ve never been to any of them. They really work us at school, you know. As for big