Lord’s Day, Vol. 6 No. 19

Mothers

 The word “mother” has been eulogized, usually by poets, story and song writers, almost more than any other word – rightly so. But where can there be found words to describe one’s mother? What adjectives can portray her infinite patience, her unfailing tenderness, her loving care, her amazing self-sacrifice, her wonderful understanding, her intense loyalty?

A little fellow bounding into the living room said, “I like my home so much!” A visiting lady asked why he liked his home better than hers. For a moment the lad paused, then ran to his mother, threw his arms around her and said, “I guess it’s you, Mom!” Oh, what is home without a mother! The affection of friends or family may be estranged, but Mother’s love abides to the end.

Nowadays when the godless element is putting a premium on childless homes and sneering at the faithful wife and mother, some homes are becoming centres of crime; marriage is becoming a merchandise; wives are becoming business women, and children are unavoidable nuisances. The few children who do make it into the world are turned over to milk bottles and babysitters, to public schools where there is now danger in classroom where young people live together without the legality of marriage and where drugs and drink abound in their social life. Some contemplating suicide because there is the lack of warm and love of home life.

But memories of old-fashioned mothers truly bring us back home to the simple things. How different her home! How different her life and sphere of activity! Rarely do we find her equal in this modern age. Her home was her realm – she was always there. No children hurrying home from school to an empty house, left to amuse – or abuse – themselves as they saw fit. She knew only too well the pitfalls Satan lays for young minds and hearts.

We see her with her children sitting in their living room telling them Bible stories, each having a significance that she wished to impress on pliable minds.

Many of us almost hear Mother now as she went about her many household duties singing the old-time hymns. We could feel her influence in songs she sang in our childhood.

Others remember Mother’s prayers. It is surprising how many of the “great” of earth have attributed their greatness to the influence of Mother’s prayers.

Abraham Lincoln said: “I remember my mother’s prayers, and they have followed me; they have clung to me all my life. All that I am and hope to be I owe to my angel mother.”

It is said of Hudson Taylor’s mother that her closed door in the middle of the busy day had a world of meaning to the household.

The world would never have had the ministry of John and Charles Wesley had it not been for their praying mother Susannah. John wrote, “When I recall the joys of my fifty-six years of public ministry, I often shoulder at the thought of how near I came to losing them. For many months my mind was balancing between the pulpit and the attraction of a legal career. Behind it all a mother’s prayers were moving the poised balance; she made souls outweigh silver, and eternity outweigh time.”

Some remember Mother’s admonition and chastisement. The old-time mother who spanked on occasion and whipped more severely when it was needed, did not raise a bunch of lawless, lazy, juvenile delinquents, without respect for God or man.

Then – can we think of our old-fashioned mother as ever idle? No. She taught thrift and industrious habits by example. Slothfulness in her eyes was a great evil, and idleness truly the Devil’s workshop.

And her love! Compare it with that of our Heavenly Father. He looks beyond thoughtless mistakes, careless blunders and imperfect acts of devotion and sees a humble heart, eager to love and serve Him.

The sinful world is greatly in need of such old-fashioned mothers with old-fashioned standards.

 

My Mother’s Bible

 There’s a dear and precious Book,

Tho’ it’s worn and faded now,

Which recalls those happy days of long ago;

When I stood at Mother’s knee,

With her hand upon my brow,

And I heard her voice in gentle tones and low.

 

As she read the stories o’er,

Of those mighty men of old,

Of Joseph and of Daniel and their trials;

Of little David bold.

Who became king at last;

Of Satan with his many wicked wiles.

 

Then she read of Jesus’ love,

As He blest the children dear,

How He suffered, bled and died upon the tree;

Of His heavy load of care,

With her kisses as she said it was for me.

 

Well those days are past and gone,

But their mem’ry lingers still,

And the dear old Book each day has been my guide;

And I seek to do His will,

As my mother taught me then,

And ever in my heart His words abide.

 

Blessed Book, precious Book,

On thy dear old tear-stained leaves I love to look;

Thou art sweeter day by day,

As I walk the narrow way

That leads at last to that bright Home above.

 

[Extracted and edited from Mothers by Sword of the Lord Publishers]

 

Yours lovingly,

Pastor Lek Aik Wee