p. 12 | Untitled article by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Feb 18, 1913

Homesickness—No. 4

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

HOW many times we have read the beautiful story of Joseph. We see him as a lad at home, petted and loved by the aged father, and sneered at and criticized by his envious brothers. I suppose, taking it all together, that the home life of Joseph, when a boy, could not have been altogether agreeable. But O, how the very heart-strings of the aged father twined around the lad! And he could not rest until he had prepared for his son the beautiful coat, which was at least partially responsible for so much trouble and heartache.

Finally, the care of their sheep called the brothers to Shechem. After they had been from home for some time, the father sent young Joseph to see how they fared. This was quite a journey for a lad to attempt alone,—something like fifty miles. It was not an easy journey by any means. There was no stage route, no powerful locomotive, no rushing automobile to hurry him to his journey's end. Down through the plains of Hebron and Jordan, straight north until the peaks of Ebal and Gerizim rise before him—fifty long miles alone and on foot.

We are not told who entertained the young stranger overnight, perhaps no one; perhaps he rested at night the same as he journeyed through the day,—alone and unattended. Perhaps, like his father, his young head may have been pillowed upon a comfortless bolster of stone; and it may be too communed with the angels from the glory land. However this may have been, we may be sure that bright anticipation of the loving welcome and the warm greeting of his brothers, from whom he had so long been parted, cheered his lonely hours. At last, arriving at Shechem, the lad became confused and lost his way. Do you not suppose he was homesick as well as bewildered, when the kindly stranger found him wandering about aimlessly in the field searching for his brothers? We almost wonder why the doting father even dared to trust his dearly loved son to take so long and so tedious a journey alone, and through a country infested by wild animals. There is no doubt that many a prayer was offered by the dear ones at home for the safety of the beloved lad.

Finally, the kind stranger told him that his brothers had gone on farther still,—ten weary miles farther still,—on to Dothan. Footsore and lonely, the homesick boy pressed on. He had been sent by his father on an important commission, and he must carry it out. At last, feeding upon the distant hillside, he sees the flocks of his brethren, like white dots on a carpet of green; there are Reuben and Simeon and Judah and all the others—at last!

Well, we know the story; but did we ever stop to consider the awful loneliness which filled the heart of the homesick lad, as he trudged along by the side of the strange Midianitish merchants? Every tearful, backward glance revealed his unfeeling brothers finishing their meal, which they had begun while he lay—frightened and heart-broken—in the pit where he had been cast.

But the record says that the Lord was with him. Yes, and he was not forsaken of Heaven even when the cold walls of an Egyptian dungeon closed about him. I believe the angels are nearer to God's children, if possible, when they are unhappy, forsaken, or alone.

We remember the wonderful deliverance which the Lord wrought by the hand of this deeply afflicted young man. And so let this experience encourage us. God never forsakes His own; no matter how black the sky, the sunshine of His love is bright enough to break through every cloud. No matter how often the homesick heart cries out for appreciation and love and tenderness; tho the milk of human kindness seems to be dried up entirely; no matter if we are maligned and set at naught by a cold and unfeeling world, the eye of the pitying Father is upon us, even as it was upon young Joseph. And out of our deepest sorrows and most hopeless grief, He will bring joy and the consolations of His Spirit.

Then there is the story of Moses. Does it not seem to you that he must have known heartache and homesickness? Bearing responsibilities such as none before him nor after him have ever borne,—the burden of a great and rebellious people,—do you not imagine that, at times, he longed for his peaceful home in Midian, and the restful quiet of the desert, where for forty pleasant and prosperous years he had lived, guiding and tending the innocent flocks of his father-in-law?

We have often read the story of the prodigal son. But I am afraid that many of us have failed to comprehend much of the beautiful lesson the Master meant us to learn; and so we fail to fathom the infinite depth of the Father's love. O, that we might come more and more to imitate the blessed example given us, of forgiveness toward the erring, and generosity and loving-kindness even toward those who may have proved themselves unworthy of our confidence and affection. The prodigal had abused the love of his father, and carelessly and wantonly wasted his goods—goods which had been earned by honest labor. He had been unappreciative and unlovely and selfish. And yet he has but to turn his longing eyes toward home and that love which he has slighted; and at once the father forgets everything save the one fact that his son is needy and suffering and homesick.

Running to meet him is not enough. The warm and loving embrace and words of welcome are not enough. The costly ring must be brought, and the best robe with which to adorn the wanderer, and hide his filthy rags.

O, there is something about this simple story, that can never grow old. It breathes a love that is infinite; an unselfishness which is without parallel; a devotion and affection toward the erring and the outcast, which are wonderful.

I wish we might learn the lesson of patient, self-denying, self-forgetful love in our homes. O, that its blessed fruitage might oftener appear in our lives!

Do you think that the Nazarene Carpenter went about His humble tasks, with a discontented frown upon His face? And yet, He knew from experience, bitter and deep, just how to sympathize with the heart-sick and homesick sons and daughters of earth. And then, as now, His great, loving heart bears all the miseries and sins of the whole world.