Thekla's Story.
WITTEMBERG, _September_, 1527.
I have said it from my heart at last! yes, I am sure I say it from my
heart, and if with a broken heart, God will not despise that.
"_Our Father_ which art in heaven, _thy will, not mine be done_."
I thought I could bear anything better than suspense; but I had no idea
what a blank of despair the certainty would bring.
Then came dreadful rebellious thoughts, that God should let him die
alone; and then recurred to my heart all they had said to me about not
making idols, and I began to fear I had never really loved or worshipped
God at all, but only Bertrand; and then came a long time of blank and
darkness into which no light of human or divine love or voices of
comfort seemed in the least to penetrate. I thought God would never
receive me until I could say, "Thy will be done," and this I could not
say.
The first words I remember that seemed to convey any meaning at all to
me were some of Dr. Luther's in a sermon. He said it was easy to believe
in God's pardoning love in times of peace, but in times of temptation
when the devil assailed the soul with all his fiery darts, he himself
found it hard, indeed, to hold to the truth he knew so well, that Christ
was not a severe judge, or a hard exactor, but a forgiving Saviour,
indeed love itself, pure unalterable love.
Then I began to understand it was _the devil_, the malignant exacting
evil spirit that I had been listening to in the darkness of my heart,
that it was he who had been persuading me I must not dare to go to my
Father, before I could bring him a perectly submissive heart.
And then I remembered the words, "Come unto me, ye that are weary and
heavy laden;" and, alone in my room, I fell on my knees, and cried, "O
blessed Saviour, O heavenly Father, I am not submissive; but I am weary,
weary and heavy-laden; and I come to thee. Wilt thou take me as I am,
and teach me in time to say, 'Thy will be done!'" And he received me,
and in time he has taught me. At least I can say so to-night. To-morrow,
perhaps, the old rebellion will come back. But if it does, I will go
again to our heavenly Father and say again, "Not submissive yet, only
heavy-laden! Father, take my hand, and say, begin again!"
Because amidst all these happy homes I felt so unnecessary to any one,
and so unutterably lonely. I longed for the old convents to bury myself
in, away from all joyous sounds. But, thank God, they were closed for
me; and I do not wish for them now.
Dr. Luther began to help me by showing me how the devil had been keeping
me from God.
And now God has helped me by sending through my heart again a glow of
thankfulness and love.
The plague has been at Wittemberg again. Dr. Luther's house has been
turned into an hospital; for dear as are his Kaethe and his little Hans
to him, he would not flee from the danger, any more than years ago, when
he was a monk in the convent which is now his home.
And what a blessing his strong and faithful words have been among us,
from the pulpit, by the dying bed, or in the house of mourning.
But it is through my precious mother chiefly that God has spoken to my
heart, and made me feel he does indeed sustain, and care, and listen.
She was so nearly gone. And now she is recovering. They say the danger
is over. And never more will I say in my heart, "To me only God gives no
home," or fear to let my heart entwine too closely round those God has
left me to love, because of the anguish when that clasp is severed. I
will take the joy and the love with all its possibilities of sorrow, and
trust in God for both.
Perhaps, also, God may have some little work of love for me to do, some
especial service even for me, to make me needed in the world as long as
I am here. For to-day Justus Jonas, who has lost his little son in the
plague, came to me and said,--
"Thekla, come and see my wife. She says you can comfort her, for you can
comprehend sorrow."
Of course I went. I do not think I said anything to comfort her. I could
do little else but weep with her, as I looked on the little, innocent,
placid, lifeless face. But when I left her she said I had done her good,
and begged me to come again.
So, perhaps, God has some blessed services for me to render him, which I
could only have learned as he has taught me; and when we meet hereafter,
Bertrand and I, and hear that dear divine and human voice that has led
us through the world, we _together_ shall be glad of all this bitter
pain that we endured and felt, and give thanks for it for ever and for
ever!