p. 514 | Carrie's Decision

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Nov 16, 1882

Carrie's Decision.

“OH dear, it's pleasant, and it will be just perfectly elegant this evening,” said Carrie Leonard, turning away from her window with a sigh and a very, very long face. There was to be a concert in Madison that evening, a remarkably fine one by the best talent, and Ned Wilmer had invited her to go. Given—the prospect of a “perfectly elegant” evening, full moon, capital sleighing, a four-mile ride in excellent company with a musical treat at the end of it—and can you possibly imagine what one could find to sigh and look doleful about? But you see it was Thursday.

“Prayer and conference meeting as usual on Thursday evening at 7:30 o'clock.”

That was the notice read on Sabbath, and therein lay the secret of Carrie's sigh. It was only a few weeks before that she had publicly confessed her love for Christ, and her earnest desire and purpose to please him in all things. It had slipped her mind what evening it was when she had accepted the invitation. And now, what should she do?

She knew just how Ned would look, how sarcastically he would smile when she told him why she could not go. And yet how many, many times in the olden days, they two had commented on the inconsistencies of Christians. Ned had been away; she did not know whether he had been told of her change or not. Somehow she had not had courage to speak of it herself, though they had compared notes on all other topics. Oh dear, what should she do!

“If Ned knows I profess to be a Christian, I'm very sure that though he may be vexed, still, after all, clear down in his heart, he will think I ought to stay at home and be in my place.”

But how could she give up the treat? And how could she tell him? Her face grew hot at the very thought of his mocking smile. She had hoped it would be stormy, so that it would be impossible to go. She had felt that she should look upon her sickest sick-headache as a positive godsend; anything, in fact, she thought, would be welcome that would decide the question for her.

But never had she felt better in her life, and not a cloud was to be seen. She must decide herself whether she would confess her Saviour, or deny him.

“But,” she thought, brightening up, “I do not see why I need worry and fret so. It cannot be wrong, after all, to go; for Deacon Smith and his wife are going; and Mame Trask, Will Sheldon, and Mr. and Mrs. Fisk too, and every one of them church members. The idea of my being so foolish as to think it wrong.” And banishing all her scruples, she went about setting her room to rights—her face bright with pleasant anticipations for the evening's enjoyment.

But when she came to sit down to her morning's reading, her expression changed; for this was the very first verse her eyes rested upon: “What is that to thee? Follow thou Me.” After all, what was it to her whether everyone else went or not—she was to follow Him, not others. But how she did hate to give it up!

Then, too, there was Ned. If he was not a Christian—she pleaded—she wanted to influence him to be. Would it not prejudice him against religion, if she should excuse herself from going on account of prayer-meeting? “What is that to thee? Follow thou Me!” The words fairly rang in her ears. It was not anything to her; her part was to follow Christ. He would take care of the rest.

“Impossible!” exclaimed Ned Wilmer in surprise, as he let fall a dainty little note from his hands that noon. “Pshaw!” he said impatiently, as he picked it up again.

An hour afterwards, he added to himself, over his books and papers: “But it was plucky in her, after all, and I respect her for it. I always said, if I was a Christian, I would be up to the

mark. I hate half-way work—but—I wish she'd let me alone!” And then Ned tried to put all his thoughts upon his work. But there was an earnest little plea in the note he had thrown so impatiently aside, that would not be forgotten. In fact, the harder he tried to forget about it, the more persistently he remembered; and at last he gave it up in despair.

“And only to think,” said Carrie afterwards, “the very thing I was afraid would prejudice him, influenced him most of all, he says. I believe, after all, it was Satan put that thought into my head; for I do believe if only I follow Christ closely, everything will end right.”—Christian Intelligencer.