WHEN MARTHA WING was “born of God early in the spring” of 1898, she took Jesus Christ to be the King of her life, “her best Beloved, and most Desired.” She meant that He should reign completely. That was what conversion meant to her — Christ reigning instead of herself. Thus she entered upon a life of complete and loving obedience and a “year of worship.”
How else could it be when, true to her promise that if God would reveal Himself to her she would never stop praying as long as she lived, she continued her intense supplication hours every day?
On March 27, she left the home of her hospital friend and went to Nettie’s where she remained until June 7. As she prayed, she examined herself and reflected upon the past course of her life. Her resulting meditations she wrote in a section of her journal which she titled “Thought Weavings.” This section she prefaced with this bit of verse:
And shall I keep in silence
My tiny gift of song,
If I can make, by singing,
Some weary hour less long?
In her first entryⁿ dated April 30, she wrote concerning:
Note: Miss Wing’s length journal meditations have been included in full in their chronological order so that one may see the development of her spiritual experience.
The Master Weaver
What a strange contradiction is a human being, with its weak will and strong desire! We least wish for that which is the easiest to obtain, and that which is the farthest from us is the object of our greatest longings.
Who is satisfied with the obtainable? Who would admire an edelweiss growing in a home-garden?
There is no satisfied ambition in this life. He who at morn sighed to reach a distant mountain height stands at noon on the sought-for pinnacle and turns his longing eyes to higher and more difficult ascents and plans to reach them at even. (Fortunate is he if the even comes to him.)
Do the duty that lies nearest. The easiest advice in the world and the most difficult to follow! How much pleasanter to ignore that familiar, tiresome work close at hand and reach for something higher, of more seeming importance! How often we do so, and how miserable the result!
I have been thinking today how easily we may pass by longed-for opportunities. We have some pet ambition, some desire that we see no way of gratifying. Unseen forces are at work; a strong Hand takes the thread of our life and weaves in and out and turns it here and twists it there, until all unknown it has almost reached the longed-for goal.
Then our willful selves take a hand. Some little question of right or wrong comes up. It is such a little thing, and desire is strong. We take the thread from the Hand and weave with our untrained fingers, for such a little way. But the pattern is wrong just in one place, so small a place no one will ever notice. It does not matter, or it does not seem to matter. But the Great Weaver knows we have woven out and around and beyond the longed-for position, and the opportunity is gone by forever.
When our spirits look back on that woven tapestry of life and read the pattern as it was intended, I wonder how many places will be woven wrongly, how many neglected opportunities will show, how well or how ill will appear the finished work.
I often think about this tapestry of life and wonder if the pattern is all laid and planned. Perhaps it is a beautiful, bright-colored pattern, flower-strewn and garlanded; perhaps it has soft greys and tans; perhaps it is dark and sombre. I fancy the warp and woof is all ready, just so much for each tapestry, colors all selected, pattern all planned. Under the Master Weaver we begin our work slowly and painstakingly. Every line and curve of the pattern is known to Him; there can be no mistake when He guides the threads.
And the tapestry is begun. Bit by bit, day in, day out, the work goes on; some portion of the pattern is finished. But mayhap the colors are dull at first. Our nearsighted eyes cannot see nor understand the meaning nor the beauty of the great plan as a whole. We chafe and fret as we watch the work go on. We cry that our lives must have some brightness, there must be some beauty in that growing pattern.
Alas! if our discontent becomes too great, and we take away the thread from the Master’s guidance. Here, where the Lord sought to have us weave a grey, we substitute a rose-color. That is delightful; how great an improvement is our way upon His. We weave on gleefully for awhile; then comes the discord. The rose-color, woven in, never to be released, after all does not harmonize with its surroundings.
Looking back, we see what we could not see before ‘tis done, that the change we have made has spoiled the pattern. Desperately, we strive to remedy the mistake. Without reflection, without comprehension, without higher help, we try one color and then another, but as fast as one is woven in we see some other would have been better. So we weave on, adding mistake to mistake in a miserable effort to rectify the first. How many tire, at last, and give up all effort to make a fair piece of work. Despairingly or indifferently they gaze backward at the soiled and ruined tapestry, or look forward to the future with no desire or effort to improve upon the past.
Others, working with a desperate defiance, cry, “We will make the life-tapestry beautiful. We will enjoy these beautiful colors that lie at hand.” And they weave them all in. After a time the brighter colors are gone; they have used them all; and oh! what endless measures of sombre colors must be woven in with no brightening tints to cheer the weary workers. In vain they cry out at the hardness of their fate. They have enjoyed their sunshine all in one long day; now come the shadows.
Or again, I fancy the weaver growing impatient of the slowness of the work, weaving double threads of brilliant colors, breaking, snarling, entangling them, and, too, life’s best forces are sapped, the threads give out, the pattern lies unfinished, the weaver’s hand is still.
Perhaps, when the work is done, the weaver, looking back at his work, cries unto his Master, “Why need my life have been so wretched? Look at the ruined tapestry with its hideous combination of colors. Was it for this that You taught me the art? Was it for this You placed me at the loom of Life?” And the Master Weaver answers, “Nay, not so; fair and good was the tapestry I planned for you. See, here is the pattern as it would have been under My guidance. Out of your own willful pride came that piece of weaving you despise.”
But I fancy there are those who, when they have first learned their own weakness, looking at their work, cry, “Our Master, we have done ill. We cannot weave without Thy help. We cannot understand Thy plan. We know our work is wrong, all wrong. The tapestry is ruined. Were it not better to drop the threads and destroy what is done?”
But the Master, looking down at the pitiful results of human weakness, smiles. “Nay, My child, you have made mistakes, but your work is not ruined. Know you not that, ‘out of evil, good may come’-” And, “all things work together for the good of them that love the Lord? Are not all things possible to Thy God? Can I not make even sin turn to My glory? ‘Tis true, the wrong is done, but My skill can weave the threads remaining until, altho’ the pattern is changed, it need not be less beautiful.”
Then, under His guidance the human weaver begins again, toilingly, taught care and patience by his earlier carelessness.
And the tapestry grows strong and fair and beautiful, and we, looking on, cannot see the one spot where the weaver erred. It is forgiven and forgotten by the Great Master, but the weaver knows, and knows too, that from that early error good has come, because, at once the faulty threads were put in the Master’s Hands, for He alone could use them aright.
†
Obviously this is Martha Wing’s spiritual autobiography to date, together with the expression of her confidence in the Great Weaver to make of her marred handiwork something beautiful.
The next day, May 1, she recorded her further meditations:
“What is temptation? Is it wrong desire or is [it] strength of any desire? I have been thinking of some wishes of mine. They are not, I am sure, wrong in themselves, but the strength of the desire makes them temptations. They stand out glaringly thro’ everything. Sometimes I am afraid they are my gods.
“When Christ told the rich man, ‘to sell all he had and give to the poor,’ He had more reason than a knowledge of the danger of riches. Undoubtedly Christ saw deeper than could any other and knew his wealth was the young man’s god. It stood between him and eternal salvation.
“There have been men with ‘exceeding great possessions’ who have still found them no bar to Heaven. Perhaps these very men, however, worship some other god. Ambition may become a god. It is no sin to try for the high places of the earth, until the desire becomes stronger than a desire for a place in the kingdom of God. It is noble to serve men when the service is given thro’ love of God.”
Then follows another autobiographical musing:
“There were two cups set before me, I sipped of one. It was sweet as nectar. ‘Drink it not,’ warned a voice, ‘lest you forever forfeit the other.’
“‘Is the other as sweet?’ I asked.
“‘The other is purer, more lasting, more satisfactory. It will be saved for you until ‘tis time to drink it. But taste not of the first.’
“But the sip I had taken was new, and sweet, and strange, and I looked at the liquid longingly, fancying I might drain both cups.
“‘Drink,’ whispered another voice. ‘Drink! It is the wine of life; the nectar of gods. You will find only pleasure in this cup.’
“And I drank surreptitiously, eagerly. It was sweeter than anything I had ever drunk, and when it was gone, I longed for more as I had never longed for the first cup. ‘More. Give me more,’ I pled.
“‘Nay,’ answered a voice, ‘see the vial from which it was filled is empty now, save for the dregs; they are poison.’
“After I asked, ‘Then give me of the second cup.
“But answered the voice, ‘The second is not for you; you forfeited it by drinking of the first. Some other one shall drain this.’
“Then I saw it was limpid and pure, and the vial from which it was filled glowed with the liquid. And some dregs had mingled with the liquid I had drunk, and they left a taste that was bitter and my soul was sick within me, both from longing and from the poison; and I cried, ‘O fool that I was to forfeit a vial of pure liquid for a draught of sweet poison.’
“But answered the voice, ‘Regrets are useless! The harm is wrought. Both cups are empty to you forever.’ And I wept bitterly.
“Still the memory of that draught of the wine of life is with me. I dream of its sweetness, and forget the bitterness of its dregs, and the empty cup. And the memory seems more to me than another liquid could be. And I wonder, were the cups once more set before me, which would be my choice.”
Clear evidence that, like many another, Martha Wing, though she had settled her consecration for all time, had her struggles as she looked backward. But God gave her strength to remain steadfast, and, as a result, when she re-read her diary the next year, she had no question about the draughts or what she would do. At the end of this entry she made another, dated August 19 ‘99: “The whole draught was poison.”
As summer came on, Martha went to Sand Spring to be with Ada and her family. “I spent most of the time I was not in bed in a hammock under the trees. I spent the time alone with God.” But whether in the hammock, literally alone, or on a leather couch in the dining room with Ada’s lively boys racing around, she was alone with God, praying without ceasing. Humanly speaking, she realized that she had only a few months to live and was going to make those months count for time and eternity. And true to His promise that those who seek shall find, Martha Wing was finding. Christ was manifesting Himself to her in ever-increasing measure.
About a month after she had been at Ada’s, on July 3, Martha wrote this “thought weaving”:
“It is natural for some people to be agreeable. It is easier to say a pleasant word than a harsh one; easier to smile than to frown. Such a disposition is a gift from God and should be used in His service. If the talent is hid, or used for other purposes than His, it is robbery, for God gives each talent in trust until such a day as He shall make up His jewels. Such a disposition should be used in God’s service as surely as the power of genius.
“Often one hears such a remark as ‘I am as good as Such a one, who is a Christian, while I am not.’ The other — the Christian — may have ten times as much to contend against in natural inclinations. All honor to him if he finally conquers. The dishonor is to him who, finding it natural ‘to be good,’ does not put the talent to use.
Lying in the hammock Martha also engaged in reading. There is, however, a marked difference between the books she read in the first and in the last half of this year (1898). In the former period most of her reading was for pleasure— to pass the time away. True, in the latter period Martha Wing did read four novels and two exhaustive studies of literature. Less and less, however, was she reading such books. Spiritual books were now increasingly absorbing her time and attention.
“Two books, The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life by H. W. Smith and F. R. Havergal’s Kept for the Master’s Use, greatly influenced me and led me in the right way during the summer.”
According to her record Martha read the latter book first, and on July 10 wrote the following as a result of her reflections on it and its author:
“I have been reading Frances Havergal’s ‘Kept for the Master’s Use,’ and find it to be a wonderful book. Her life was a gospel in itself. It shows how fully one can be consecrated — a great lesson, for it is so easy to slip away. It is a beautiful thing to know of such a life. It is beneficial to the soul if we will accept its teaching. Not that, with our small talent, we can achieve what she achieved; not that we can be what she was; but that, in our own small way, we can live up to our highest power as she lived up to hers. The widow’s mite was acceptable, and my poor, little service will be as precious to Him, if given with fullest love.”
The author of both poetry and prose, in spite of the fact that she was an invalid, Frances Ridley Havergal (1836-1879) was an ideal person to influence and to inspire Martha Wing at this time. And her volume, which Martha Wing described as “a beautiful book,” is undoubtedly the crown jewel of her prolific pen which gave to the world so many exquisite, devotional, literary gems. Among these are some of our best hymns.
One of the best-known of these is her song of consecration which has stirred thousands the world over: “Take My Life, and Let it Be.” For her book, Kept for the Master’s Use, Miss Havergal altered the words of this song to “Keep my life that it may be,” etc., and wrote a chapter on each couplet. The purpose of this little volume is clearly set forth in its opening paragraph — to teach one how to keep the consecration he has once made by finding out “what is the little leak that hinders the swift and buoyant course of our consecrated life.”
Examining the book in the light of Martha Wing’s experience, one readily sees how timely it was for her to read it and how specifically it must have spoken “to her condition,” as the Quakers were wont to ‘say, from its first to last page.
One thing which Miss Havergal emphasized in two different places in her book was the importance of one’s influence. This must have impressed Martha Wing very deeply, for while there is abundant evidence to corroborate her statement that this book as a whole “influenced” her greatly, the only quotation which she preserved from it in “Borrowed Bits,” a section of her journal where she kept choice thoughts from others, is one about influence. The entire passage is given here so that the thought may be complete, but only the words in italics were copied by Miss Wing:
“So large a proportion of it [influence] is entirely involuntary, while yet the responsibility of it is so enormous, that our helplessness comes out in exceptionally strong relief, while our past debt in this matter is simply incalculable. Are we feeling this a little? getting just a glimpse, down the misty defiles of memory, of the neutral influence, the wasted influence, the mistaken influence, the actually wrong influence which has marked the ineffaceable, although untraceable course? And all the while we owed Him all that influence!”ⁿ
Note: See Chapter Twelve, “Our Selves Kept for Jesus.”
This truth about the power of one’s influence is further emphasized in Martha Wing’s next “thought weaving,” written sometime during July or the early part of August, judging from its references to the Spanish-American War which was then in progress:
“Meet for The Master’s Use”
Ignorance, even dense ignorance, need not stand in the way of service for the Lord. He has made no instrument He cannot use. The spade that digs the foundation for the beautiful temple is as useful in its place as the sculptor’s chisel that carves the stone. But it would be useful only as a spade; the builder would not attempt to do with it the work of the chisel.
Absolute consecration means wholly used for the Lord. Not until one can say, “Use me, Lord, as Thou wilt, where Thou wilt, when Thou wilt,” does he become an instrument of use in the Lord’s hands. “O, to be nothing” — “a broken and emptied vessel for the Master’s use made meet.”
Here lies a difficulty. How few are willing to be nothing. How many say rather, “Lord, take me. Do with me some great work,” and add, it is to be feared, perhaps unconsciously, “and let all men see my greatness by my work.”
Not until we are willing to do what He tells us, to stay where He puts us, can we be of use. Not until we are glad to be little in His service, can we be much. Not that we should be satisfied to give little when we have much. Not that we should be “nothing” in His service and much to the world. We should give all to His service, place ourselves in His hand. He alone can decide whether He needs us most in a small field or a large one. There are so few large fields; there are so many small ones.
I was reading the other day that in this Spanish War there were hundreds of applications for official positions to every one position. So it is in God’s works: He needs privates in His army who are to do the inglorious work. It is a reflection upon His goodness and His wisdom to say, “There is nothing I can do. I am ignorant. I have no talent. There is no use of my trying to be of service.”
God did not put you into the world to be a stumbling-block. He made nothing He could not use. Christ’s own disciples were ignorant fishermen. God has made more common people than uncommon ones, more average intellects than brilliant ones, more dull people than geniuses. There is but one conclusion to draw, therefore, and that is, He has more use for the commonplace person.
One thing is absolutely without question. There is work for each one to do, a place for each one to fill. No one but God knows how wide the place may become before the work is finished, but this is certain, the field will not widen until the waste places already given are utilized. If you cannot care for a few square feet, you cannot get an acre; if you cannot cultivate a small field, God will not give you a large one.
But says one, “I am not wishing to cultivate a large field. I am perfectly willing to cultivate a few square feet all my life, but I am not sure I am capable to do even that.” Yet what right have you to doubt? Be assured you are capable of cultivating exactly what the Lord has given you. You are capable, and if you do not do it, it is because you will not.
But in reference to a previous remark, why are you willing to cultivate “a few feet”? Is it because you are humble, or because you are lazy — too lazy to take a large field? Are you satisfied to do less than the Lord needs of you? Are you satisfied to cultivate a small field, when God has planned to give you a large one?
One’s duty is to do well the little. Cultivate and re-cultivate, dig and sow, plan and pray. Use every opportunity, every moment, every bit of strength, and then if God wills, the larger field will open. If He does not will, then at least what you have all along desired is yours, a well-cultivated bit of ground. You have sown and the harvest is ready for the Master. You have done with your might what your hand found to do. If He wills to give a larger field (which He will not until you are ready), then all your experience goes to help you in your broader work.
No matter how small, how plain, how insignificant one’s task is, God knows all about it. And He knows as well when the task is neglected. The little thing undone shows as clearly as if it were a great thing. The little life ill-spent is as sad a sight to God as the great life ill-spent.
And there is another thought — No life, no matter how insignificant, can be without influence.
†
Now, although Martha Wing accorded Kept for the Master’s Use first place in her list of “books most enjoyed in 1898,” and only second place to The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life, it is the latter book which more “greatly influenced” her if one is to judge by the number of quotations from it found in “Borrowed Bits” and by comparison of its teaching and expressions with those found in her own writings.
Exactly what impressed Martha Wing in this book can be gathered from her journal notes of this period under the heading:ⁿ
Note: Some of these “Thoughts” are verbatim; others are incomplete quotations. Their source is the standard edition of this book published by Fleming H. Revell, Chicago and New York, 1888.
“Thoughts from
A Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life”
The religion of Christ ought to be and was meant to be to its possessors, not something to make them miserable, but something to make them happy.
You have found Jesus as your Saviour from the penalty of sin, but not as your Saviour from its power.
The saving from the power and dominion of sin is to be fully accomplished, now in this life.
When you have begun to have some faint glimpses of this power of God, learn to look away utterly from your own weakness, and putting your case into His hands, trust Him to deliver you.
A man’s part is to trust and God’s . . . to work.
Give your burdens to God. Some people carry their burdens to God, but take them away again. As often as they return, carry them to God.
Faith, not feeling. God’s order — 1. Fact, 2. Faith, 3.Feeling.
Recognize that it must be a fact that when you give yourself to God, He accepts you, and let your faith take hold of that fact.
Faith is only believing. Insist on believing in the face of every doubt that intrudes itself.
†
In addition to these “Thoughts” recorded at this time, one finds twice in this book a bit of verse which was a favorite of Martha Wing Robinson:
The perfect way is hard to flesh;
it is not hard to love;
If thou wert sick for want of God,
How swiftly wouldst thou move!
Here, also, is found the original of a thought she cherished and often quoted: “Follow gladly and quickly the sweet suggestions of His Spirit in thy soul.”
Beyond these actual thoughts and quotations which influenced Martha Wing, there are three words which Hannah Whithall Smith used repeatedly which became an integral part of Martha Wing Robinson’s vocabulary: “abandon” (at least thirty-five times), “vessel” (at least twenty times), and “inward” (at least twenty-three times). These words might be considered the key words of Martha Wing Robinson’s ministry.
Unquestionably the influence of Hannah Whithall Smith’s teaching on “Service”’ is reflected in Martha Wing’s “thought weaving” for August 21:
Love says, “Christ, not self.” Love does not put bliss in Heaven before service on earth. Love goes beyond salvation for self, and thinks of doing Christ’s will and leading others to salvation. Love forgets to ask for personal, temporal blessings. Love says, not, “How much shall I give?” but, “How little can I keep?”
Finally, in view of Martha Wing Robinson’s life-long emphasis on John 14:21 and her express statement that this book “greatly influenced me,” it cannot be amiss to note what the author has to say about this verse in particular:
“Your Lord says, ‘He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me; and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him.’….
“Continually at every heart He is knocking, asking to be taken in as the supreme object of love. ‘Wilt thou have Me?’ He says to the believer, ‘to be thy Beloved?... Wilt thou give up to Me the absolute control of thyself and all that thou hast? . . . May I have my way with thee in all things? . . . Wilt thou accept Me for thy heavenly Bridegroom and leave all others to cleave only unto Me?”’
“Wilt thou say, ‘Yes,’ to all His longing for union with thee, and with a glad and eager abandonment hand thyself and all that concerns thee over into His hands? If thou wilt, then shalt thy soul begin to know something of the joy of union with Christ... Our souls ought to be made so unutterably hungry to realize it, that day or night we shall not be able to rest without it.”’
That was exactly what was arising within the soul of Martha Wing — all insatiable hunger to be brought to the place where it would be literally and actually “not I, but Christ [living] in me.”
The answer of her heart to this call of her Lover is registered in a September “thought weaving”:
“Jesus is mine. No doubt shall enter, for He has said, ‘He that hungers and thirsts after righteousness shall be filled,’ and ‘He that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.’ He is mine — in sickness and in health, in trouble or in pleasure, in poverty and in wealth, in narrow fields or wide ones. — I am His and He is mine, forever and forever. His will shall be my will, His service my advantage, His gain my gain, His love my All.”
“A book every Christian should own,” was the comment Martha Wing wrote after her entry of The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life in her list of books read in 1898. Throughout her life and ministry she was to recommend it to Christians as a guide on their way. In doing so, however, she was careful to instruct the individual not just to read it, but to read it as she herself had done — never more than one chapter at a time and to pray over that chapter until you feel that you “have” it before going on to the next one.
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