LEAN HARD by Grace Growing

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Mar 13, 1893

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 19, No. 19.

LEAN HARD.

By Grace Growing

SHE was a plump, motherly-looking woman, and she stood in a farmer's spring wagon, which was drawn up to the sidewalk in a small town. She wrapped her nice cloak closely about her, looked ruefully at the muddy wheels, and hesitated.

A tall young man, her son, and a student—for this was an academy town—stood on the sidewalk, holding up his arms and saying, "Come, mother, I am waiting."

She put out one foot, and then drew back again and looked down helplessly, for the step was as muddy as the wheel. "I shall get my clothes so muddy, Jimmie."

"No, mother; do just as I tell you and you will not soil a ruffle. Put your foot on the top of the box, and your hands on my shoulders, and I'll lift you down; don't you see?"

"But," objected the mother, "I am so heavy"—

"Nonsense," interposed the son; "just drop into my arms, and you will be on the sidewalk in a second."

Again she gave her cloak a tuck, put her hands on her big boy's shoulders, and sprang out, he taking her weight so completely upon his strong arms that her feet came to the walk without a jar; and as her hands fell from his shoulders, she gave his arm a little loving pat that told more forcibly than words how proud she was of his strength and tenderness.

I knew the boy, knew how practical and sensible he was, knew how he loved his mother, and could see that he almost felt impatient when she hesitated to trust his strength. I knew, too, that this young man had felt sorely burdened with his sins, and had greatly desired to become a child of God, but was waiting for some new light, some wonderful "inner evidence," or experience, before he accepted the Saviour's invitation, "Come unto me," and my heart went out to him with a great longing that he might drop in simple faith into the arms of love extended to him, just as his mother had into his own.

Again, later in the day, the same couple were coming from the academy grounds, down an icy sidewalk, he carefully guiding her steps, and she clinging to his arm for support. Her foot slipped, but he held her up, and said, "Lean on me, mother; I never fall." Again her feet slipped, and he said more earnestly, "Mother, lean on my arm; lean hard."

"Why, dear, I thought I was leaning hard," she replied.

"Well," he urged, "if you lean hard enough, you can't fall; just throw your weight on my arm, and I can take you safely over the ice; but while you keep trying to walk with your hand just resting on my arm, you are sure to keep slipping."

Again she obeyed his directions, and her feet flew safely and lightly over the ice walk beside his, clad in "arctics" that never failed to hold fast.

Again I thought: "Poor, blind Jimmie! Once, when implored to cast yourself into the arms of divine compassion, you said, 'I am afraid, if I should trust, and try to be a Christian without any further evidence, I would stumble, or fall right away, and then I should never dare try again.'"

O Jimmie! remember your own words to the dear mother: "If you lean hard enough you can't fall." While you keep trying to stand, or walk alone, or with just a little help, he can't help you. Cast your whole weight—not only your sins, but your unbelief, your ignorance, and your helplessness—upon him. He will hold you safely. He saith, "My grace is sufficient for you;" my "strength is made perfect in weakness."—Grace Growing, in Cynosure.