The Elect Lady

There was no help in Sandy; and it was well that, with the reticence of children, neither thought of laying the case before their parents; the traditions of the elders would have ill agreed with the doctrine they were now under! Suddenly it came into Andrew’s mind that the book they read at worship to which he had never listened, told all about Jesus.

He began at the beginning, and grew so interested in the stories that he forgot why he had begun to read it One day, however, as he was telling Sandy about Jacob—“What a shame!” said Sandy; and Andrew’s mind suddenly opened to the fact that he had got nothing yet out of the book. He threw it from him, echoing Sandy’s words, “What’s a shame!”—not of Jacob’s behavior, but of the Bible’s, which had all this time told them nothing about the man that was going up and down the world, gathering up their sins, and carrying them away in His pack! But it dawned upon him that it was the New Testament that told about Jesus Christ, and they turned to that. Here also I say it was well they asked no advice, for they would probably have been directed to the Epistle to the Romans, with explanations yet more foreign to the heart of Paul than false to his Greek. They began to read the story of Jesus as told by his friend Matthew, and when they had ended it, went on to the gospel according to Mark. But they had not read far when Sandy cried out:

“Eh, Andrew, it’s a’ the same thing ower again!”

“No a’thegither,” answered Andrew. “We’ll gang on, and see!”

Andrew came to the conclusion that it was so far the same that he would rather go back and read the other again, for the sake of some particular things he wanted to make sure about So the second time they read St. Matthew, and came to these words:

“If two of you shall agree on earth as touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of My Father which is in heaven.”

“There’s twa o’ ‘s here!” cried Andrew, laying down the book. “Lat’s try ‘t!”

“Try what?” said Sandy.

His brother read the passage again.

“Lat the twa o’ ‘s speir Him for something!” concluded Andrew. “What wull’t be?”

“I won’er if it means only ance, or may be three times, like ‘The Three Wishes!’” suggested Sandy, who, like most Christians, would rather have a talk about it than do what he was told.

“We might ask for what would not be good for us!” returned Andrew.

“And make fools of ourselves!” assented Sandy, with “The Three Wishes” in his mind.

“Do you think He would give it us then?”

“I don’t know.”

“But,” pursued Andrew, “if we were so foolish as that old man and woman, it would be better to find it out, and begin to grow wise!—I’ll tell you what we’ll do: we’ll make it our first wish to know what’s best to ask for; and then we can go on asking!”

“Yes, yes; let us!”

“I fancy we’ll have as many wishes as we like! Doon upo’ yer knees, Sandy!”

They knelt together.

I fear there are not a few to say, “How ill-instructed the poor children were!—actually mingling the gospel and the fairy tales!” “Happy children,” say I, “who could blunder into the very heart of the will of God concerning them, and do the thing at once that the Lord taught them, using the common sense which God had given and the fairy tale nourished!” The Lord of the promise is the Lord of all true parables and all good fairy tales.

Andrew prayed:

“Oh, Lord, tell Sandy and me what to ask for. We’re unanimous.”

They got up from their knees. They had said what they had to say: why say more!

They felt rather dull. Nothing came to them. The prayer was prayed, and they could not make the answer! There was no use in reading more! They put the Bible away in a rough box where they kept it among rose-leaves—ignorant priests of the lovely mystery of Him who was with them always—and without a word went each his own way, not happy, for were they not leaving Him under the elder-tree, lonely and shadowy, where it was their custom to meet! Alas for those who must go to church to find Him, or who can not pray unless in their closet!

They wandered about disconsolate, at school and at home, the rest of the day—at least Andrew did; Sandy had Andrew to lean upon! Andrew had Him who was with them always, but He seemed at the other end of the world. They had prayed, and there was no more of it!

In the evening, while yet it was light, Andrew went alone to the elder-tree, took the Bible from its humble shrine, and began turning over its leaves.

“And why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?” He read, and sunk deep in thought.

This is the way his thoughts went:

“What things? What had He been saying? Let me look and see what He says, that I may begin to do it!”

He read all the chapter, and found it full of tellings. When he read it before he had not thought of doing one of the things He said, for as plainly as He told him! He had not once thought He had any concern in the matter!

“I see!” he said; “we must begin at once to do what He tells us!”

He ran to find his brother.

“I’ve got it!” he cried: “I’ve got it!”

“What?”

“What we’ve got to do”

“And what is it?”

“Just what He tells us.”

“We were doing that,” said Sandy, “when we prayed Him to tell us what to pray for!”

“So we were! That’s grand!”

“Then haven’t we got to pray for anything more?”

“We’ll soon find out; but first we must look for something to do!”

They began at once to search for things the Lord told them to do. And of all they found, the plainest and easiest was: “Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.” This needed no explanation! it was as clear as the day to both of them!

The very next morning the school-master, who, though of a gentle disposition, was irritable, taking Andrew for the offender in a certain breach of discipline, gave him a smart box on the ear. Andrew, as readily as if it had been instinctively, turned to him the other cheek.

An angry man is an evil interpreter of holy things, and Mr. Fordyce took the action for one of rudest mockery, nor thought of the higher master therein mocked if it were mockery: he struck the offender a yet smarter blow. Andrew stood for a minute like one dazed; but the red on his face was not that of anger; he was perplexed as to whether he ought now to turn the former cheek again to the striker. Uncertain, he turned away, and went to his work.

Stops a reader here to say: “But do you really mean to tell us we ought to take the words literally as Andrew did?” I answer: “When you have earned the right to understand, you will not need to ask me. To explain what the Lord means to one who is not obedient, is the work of no man who knows his work.”

It is but fair to say for the school-master that, when he found he had mistaken, he tried to make up to the boy for it—not by confessing himself wrong—who could expect that of only a school-master?—but by being kinder to him than before. Through this he came to like him, and would teach him things out of the usual way—such as how to make different kinds of verse.

By and by Andrew and Sandy had a quarrel. Suddenly Andrew came to himself, and cried:

“Sandy! Sandy! He says we’re to agree!”

“Does He?”

“He says we’re to love one another, and we canna do that if we dinna agree!”