_April_, 1513.
I have asked Dr. Luther, and he says it is because the devil makes a
great deal of the religion we see; that he pretends to be Christ, and
comes and terrifies people, and scourges them with the remembrance of
their sins, and tells them they must not dare to lift up their eyes to
heaven, because God is so holy, and they are so sinful. But it is all
because he knows that if they _would_ lift their eyes to heaven, their
terrors would vanish, and they would see Christ there, not as the Judge,
and the hard, exacting Creditor, but as the pitiful, loving Saviour.
I find it a great comfort to believe in this way in the devil. Has he
not been trying to teach me his religion all my life? And now I have
found him out! He has been telling me lies, not about myself (Dr. Luther
says he cannot paint us more sinful than we are), but lies about God. It
helps me almost as much to hear Dr. Luther speak about the devil as
about God--"the malignant, sad spirit," he says, "who loves to make
every one sad."
With God's help, I will never believe him again. But Dr. Luther said I
shall, often; that he will come again and malign God, and assail my
peace in so many ways, that it will be long before I learn to know him.
I shuddered when he told me this; but then he reassured me, by telling
me a beautiful story, which, he said, was from the Bible. It was about a
Good Shepherd and silly, wandering sheep, and a wolf who sought to
devour them. "All the care of the Shepherd," he said, "is in the
tenderest way to attract the sheep to keep close to him; and when they
wander, he goes and seeks them, takes them on his shoulder, and carries
them safe home. All our wisdom," he says, "is to keep always near this
Good Shepherd, who is Christ, and to listen to his voice."
I know the Lord Jesus Christ is called the Good Shepherd. I have seen
the picture of him carrying the lamb on his shoulder. But until Dr.
Luther explained it to me, I thought it meant that he was the Lord and
Owner of all the world, who are his flock. But I never thought that he
cared for _me_ as his sheep, sought me, called me, watched me, even me,
day by day.
Other people, no doubt, have understood all this before. And yet, if so,
why do not the monks preach of it? Why should Aunt Agnes serve Him in
the convent by penances and self-tormentings, instead of serving Him in
the world by being kind and helping all around? Why should our dear,
gentle mother, have such sad, self-reproachful thoughts, and feel as if
she and our family were under a curse?
Dr. Luther said that Christ was "made a curse for us;" that he, the
unspotted and undefiled Lamb of God, bore the curse for us on the cross;
and that we, believing in him, are not under the curse, but under the
blessing--that we are blessed.
This, then, is what the crucifix and the _Agnus Dei_ mean.
Doubtless many around me have understood all this long ago. I am sure,
at least, that our Eva understood it.
But what inexpressible joy for me, as I sit at my embroidery in the
garden, to look up through the apple-blossoms and the fluttering leaves,
and to see God's love there;--to listen to the thrush that has built his
nest among them, and feel God's love, who cares for the birds, in every
note that swells his little throat;--to look beyond to the bright blue
depths of the sky, and feel they are a canopy of blessing--the roof of
the house of my Father; that if clouds pass over, it is the unchangeable
light they veil; that, even when the day itself passes, I shall see that
the night itself only unveils new worlds of light; and to know that if I
could unwrap fold after fold of God's universe, I should only unfold
more and more blessing, and see deeper and deeper into the love which is
at the heart of all!
And then what joy again to turn to my embroidery, and, as my fingers
busily ply the needle, to think--
"This is to help my father and mother; this, even this, is a little work
of love. And as I sit and stitch, God is pleased with me, and with what
I am doing. He gives me this to do, as much as he gives the priests to
pray, and Dr. Luther to preach. I am serving Him, and he is near me in
my little corner of the world, and is pleased with me--even with me!"
Oh, Fritz and Eva! if you had both known this, need you have left us to
go and serve God so far away?
Have I indeed, like St. Christopher, found my bank of the river, where I
can serve my Saviour by helping all the pilgrims I can?
Better, better than St. Christopher; for do I not _know the voice_ that
calls to me--
"Else! Else! do this for me?"
And now I do not feel at all afraid to grow old, which is a great
relief, as I am already six-and-twenty, and the children think me nearly
as old as our mother. For what is growing old, if Dr. Martin Luther is
indeed right (and I am sure he is), but growing daily nearer God, and
His holy, happy home! Dr. Luther says our Saviour called heaven his
Father's house.
Not that I wish to leave this world. While God wills we should stay
here, and is with us, is it not home-like enough for us?
_May_, 1513.
This morning I was busy making a favourite pudding of the father's, when
I heard Herr Reichenbach's voice at the door. He went into the dwelling
room, and soon afterwards Chriemhild, Atlantis, and Thekla, invaded the
kitchen.
"Herr Reichenbach wishes to have a consultation," said Chriemhild, "and
we are sent away."
I felt anxious for a moment. It seemed like the old Eisenach days; but
since we have been at Wittemberg we have never gone into debt; so that,
after thinking a little, I was reassured. The children were full of
speculations what it would be about. Chriemhild thought it was some
affair of state, because she had seen him in close confabulation with
Ulrich von Gersdorf as he came up the street, and they had probably been
discussing some question about the privileges of the nobles and
burghers.
Atlantis believed it had something to do with Dr. Martin Luther, because
Herr Reichenbach had presented the mother with a new pamphlet of the
Doctor's on entering the room.
Thekla was sure it was at last the opportunity to make use of one of the
father's discoveries,--whether the perpetual clock, or the transmutation
of metals, or the steam-pump, she could not tell; but she was persuaded
that it was something which was to make our fortunes at last, because
Herr Reichenbach looked so very much in earnest, and was so very
respectful to our father.
They had not much time to discuss their various theories when we heard
Herr Reichenbach's step pass hurriedly through the passage, and the door
closed hastily after him.
"Do you call that a consultation?" said Chriemhild, scornfully; "he has
not been here ten minutes."
The next instant our mother appeared, looking very pale, and with her
voice trembling as she said,--
"Else, my child, we want you."
"You are to know first, Else," said the children. "Well, it is only
fair; you are a dear good eldest sister, and will be sure to tell us."
I scarcely knew why, but my fingers did not seem as much under control
as usual, and it was some moments before I could put the finishing
stroke to my pudding, wash my hands, pull down the white sleeves to my
wrists, and join them in the dwelling room, so that my mother reappeared
with an impatience very unusual for her, and led me in herself.
"Else, darling, come here," said my father. And when he felt my hands in
his, he added, "Herr Reichenbach left a message for thee. Other parents
often decide these matters for their children, but thy mother and I wish
to leave the matter to thee.--Couldst thou be his wife?"