p. 10 | GENTLENESS AND TENDERNESS IN THE HOME

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jun 1, 1904

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 30, No. 22.

GENTLENESS AND TENDERNESS IN THE HOME.

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

BY MRS. L. D. AVERY-STUTTLE.

I REMEMBER hearing a story of a certain minister, who, for three nights during a revival, exchanged pulpits with a brother minister in a distant city. The first evening the house was crowded; for the fame of the speaker had preceded him. The text was John 3:16—

"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

The discourse was eloquent and beautiful. The love of the Father was dwelt upon in such a manner as to awaken a responsive echo in the hearts of his hearers. Those who before had magnified the justice and power of the Almighty, now began to realize as never before that the name of that Being to whom angels bow, is Love. And, as they listened, their hearts grew tender, and the tear of contrition trickled down the cheek of the unconverted.

"It was a powerful sermon," many remarked at its close. "I wonder what his subject will be tomorrow evening."

The next evening came. The house was again crowded, and the people listened eagerly for the text. The eloquent preacher arose, and quietly and impressively read the same wonderful words from which he had spoken the evening before. If the first sermon had been interesting, the second was doubly so. The love which passeth understanding—the love of the Creator for His creature—the love infinite in height, in breadth, in depth, was dwelt upon and magnified.

"I am surprised to see how much there is for us in just one little verse!" remarked one after another of the listeners.

The third and last evening the seats were crowded from vestry to gallery. Ah! the preacher had chosen a theme which will fill any meeting-house quicker and keep it filled longer than any other in the world. That theme is "the Love of God."

Again the text was announced; it was the same, twice read, with such deep earnestness and fervor that there was scarcely a dry eye in that immense throng. The far-reaching, all-embracing, all-powerful love of God was portrayed as with the tongue of an angel.

"The theme is as exhaustless as eternity, as high as heaven, as boundless as creation!" exclaimed the speaker. The audience was swayed before the burning eloquence of that humble man. The hearts of sin-hardened men and women were melted, and the powers of darkness fled before the light and liberty of that blessed One whose name and whose nature is love.

"Well," says one, "and what has all this to do with gentleness and tenderness in the home? You have written to us, in a previous article, about 'Love in the Home;' are not 'love' and 'gentleness' and 'tenderness' synonymous terms?"

Perhaps we may so consider them; but, like the subject of the "Love of God," this theme is so like it, as to be inexhaustible. And yet it really seems that it should not be a necessity to emphasize and dwell upon the beauty of a home where perfect tenderness and love reign in every act of life. Alas, that it should be necessary, that the perversity of the human heart should require line upon line, precept upon precept! Alas, that the sweetest smile and the kindest word should be reserved "for the sometime guest"! Isn't it strange that we are often more careful of the feelings of a mere acquaintance than we are of our best beloved?

I have known a man to speak such words to the wife of his bosom as he could not be hired to speak to his neighbor under any circumstances. I have known a father to treat his own son in such a manner that, if he should treat the son of his neighbor the same, he would never cease apologizing to him for it.

I have seen a young woman discourteous to her own brother, and the same hour smile her sweetest and speak her gentlest to some other girl's brother. I have known her gruffly to refuse to sing her father's favorite song for him when he came home tired out with honest toil, earning the comforts of life for his family, and the same evening sit up till twelve o'clock entertaining a few silly boys and sillier girls.

I have known a mother to scold and whine for half an hour because her own little girl broke one of the cheap vases on the mantel; but when, a few evenings later, an acquaintance accidentally dropped and broke the best china tureen, this same mother would listen to no apologies, and smilingly explained to the lady that there was "no harm done at all, I assure you!"

O, how polite, how generous, we are to others than our own!

"John, I want to know if you were heedless enough to leave the bars down for all those cattle to break through into the wheat field? You deserve a good flogging!"

"No, no, neighbor," confesses Farmer Gray, "I did that myself, and am willing to pay you damages."

"Not at all,—not at all; that's all right, I thought it was John; the boy is so heedless. There's no harm done; the cattle were not in long enough for that. I only thought it was John,—that's all!"

Ah! that's it. A flogging for poor John,—and that before his guilt is proved,—but a smile and a courteous word for the real culprit, because, forsooth, he is only an acquaintance!

But the people whom I know are not all like this. Once in a while—and let us thank God—we meet with a girl whose own brother is as precious in her sight as if he belonged to some other girl. She always writes sweet, fond, sisterly letters to him when he is away from home, and many a time her prayers and her letters form a barrier between him and sin. Once in a while we find fathers who love their own sons well enough to kiss them sometimes,—yes, actually kiss their great, big boys; and I never knew a kiss of this kind to do a bit of harm—did you?

Sometimes we find families where sweet love reigns supreme,—from the gray-haired father and grandmother, to the tiny tot upon their knees.

Such homes are blessed miniatures of the other home which He whose name is love is preparing for His family.