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A Garland for Ashes
"The Spirit of the Lord Jehovah
is upon me; because Jehovah hath anointed me to preach good
tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the
broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and opening
of the prison to them that are bound; to proclaim the year of
Jehovah's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort
all that mourn; to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give
them a garland for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment
of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called the
trees of righteousness, the planting of Jehovah, that he may be
glorified."
--ISAIAH 61:1-3.
"But a certain Samaritan, as he
journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw him, he was moved
with compassion, and came to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring
on them oil and wine; and he set him on his own beast, and brought
him to an inn, and took care of him."
--LUKE 10:33-34
A Garland for Ashes
The wonder of the Bethphage
Mission on the prairies of Nebraska is not alone in the unusual
way in which God has provided a colony of homes for those in bonds
of incurable diseases. There is that which thrills the Christian
bystander even more; it is the fact that the guests in the homes
for the afflicted have been the recipients of the grace of God.
There have been many who have been crushed and depressed in
spirit, but who have through the consecrated workers that have
ministered to them come in touch with the compassionate Christ. It
is that Christ, who emptied himself taking the form of a servant
and went about doing good. It was He who saw the multitudes that
were scattered abroad as sheep without a shepherd; but he also saw
the hungry, the poor, the blind, the leper, the paralytic, and the
epileptic and was moved with compassion for them. The indwelling
Christ is still the same, as he shines forth in those who minister
to these unfortunates.
It is when the guests come into
contact with and realize this spirit of sympathy and unselfish
love for them that they experience that which the prophet Isaiah
said should take place when the Promised Messiah had made his
advent. They have received "a garland for ashes, the oil of joy
for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of
heaviness."
The severe temptation that comes
to the incurable and hopelessly diseased as he contemplates his
sad condition is to reason: "What is the use? There is nothing to
live for." From the purely human point of view, such reasoning
seems altogether too true. The joy of living has gone, the life in
the body has burned out, there remains but the ashes.
In the face of such a condition
we stand helpless, but there is one that can even there change
things and make things new. It is true that he does not come to
the haunts of wretchedness and need, as he did in the days of his
flesh; but he does come as the good Samaritan in those who are
willing to be his hands and feet, and who reveal his heart. Many a
sufferer has recognized in these servants the love of Christ. They
appreciate that there are those who wish to help them bear their
burdens. And because of this, they understand better why the Lord
was willing to perform a far greater service, when he was wounded
for their transgressions and bruised for their iniquities. Their
eyes have also been opened to the glorious hope that some day all
things will be changed, and that in a moment in the twinkling of
an eye they will come forth with a new body. They have received a
garland of joy and hope for ashes.
That our readers may better
understand this joy and hope, we have tried to tell the
experiences of some of the guests, who we believe have found a
garland for ashes at Bethphage.
"Cy"
If you were to visit the
Bethphage Mission on an early spring day and wander about the
grounds, you would probably find a man sitting in a wheel chair in
some sunny spot enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. Being a
stranger you would be rather surprised to see the physical
condition of this man, for he looks as if he had fallen from some
distance and that the result of the fall had left his body all out
of shape.
For those who have followed the
story of Bethphage, it will not be surprising to hear that the
person in question is none other than Cyrus, or as we have come to
know him, "Cy."
Cy has a story to tell. If you
will listen, the writer will try to tell that story as it has come
to him from various sources. One day in the early eighties of last
century two little boys were playing in a farm wagon in the little
town of Niles, New York. That was nothing unusual; but one of the
boys, a little lad of eight, was that day to pass through an
experience which was to be the beginning of a chain of
circumstances that changed his life from a natural healthy
existence to that of a man who now looks back on a life that has
tasted deeply of the cup of suffering and today is a helpless
invalid.
The mother of those two boys did
not realize that anything unusual was happening, when one of the
boys fell from the wagon. If little Cyrus complained to her, she
must have felt that it was just one of those little happenings
that must he expected in the life of an average American boy. As
the days and weeks passed she discovered that her young son was
not as agile on his feet as formerly, for in his play he would
stumble and fall so often. To add to the anxiety of the parents of
this boy, about a year afterward he contracted the dreaded disease
of spinal meningitis, that was so often fatal or at best left its
victims in a crippled condition. While recuperating from this
serious illness Cyrus discovered that his lower limbs would not
gain strength and the only way that he could get about was with
the aid of crutches.
The distracted parents sought the
best doctors in New York City and were told that nothing could be
done but hoped that he might outgrow his malady. It is no wonder
that the thought often came to them, "What would the future have
in store for a cripple?" Friends encouraged the parents and their
son with the suggestion, that many have overcome such handicaps
and especially if they could be trained to do things with their
mind and hands. So Cyrus started out with renewed hope to get an
education. With a mind that was normal he succeeded in finishing
his common school education and had even started to high school at
Hastings, Nebraska, where the family had moved. He was about
fifteen years of age.
At this time the parents removed
to another town and what happened to the subject of our story
after that move is not at all clear, but that another tragedy took
place we are sure, for it was shortly after this that Cyrus on a
hot day was out in the yard and it was believed that he had an
attack of
what is commonly called a sunstroke. That part of his story
seems to be shrouded with uncertainty - he fainted away and then
followed days of severe suffering, other complications set in, he
lost his speech, and 
he
became paralyzed. The parents cared for him in their home until
the mother passed away. It was at this point that Bethphage
entered into his life. A brother has this to say: "My brother Fred
and I heard of your wonderful place at Axtell and went there to
make arrangements for Cyrus. We thank God for the good you are
doing Cyrus and all the rest there."
It was in those early days at
Bethphage that Cy realized more than ever his helpless condition.
There he was among strangers that could not understand him. He was
not able to move, if he was uncomfortable. He could not even make
his wants known, for he was speechless. Life to him was only to
lie and wait for nighttime when he could go to sleep and forget
his troubles. It is no wonder that he was discouraged and even
despondent. To him there was nothing to live for. It was at this
time that he refused to eat, hoping in that way to hasten the end
of it all.
But that was not to be the end.
The attendants at Bethphage were to help Cy bear his burdens that
seemed too heavy for him to bear. Their hearts were moved with
compassion and they insisted that he should eat and live. The
Sisters would come and read for him, and better still, they prayed
that his darkened soul might see the light. The light came, and
through the hearing of the Word of God he learned that a heavenly
Father loved him so much that He had given His only begotten Son
to be his Saviour. On February 23, 1930, he was baptized into
Christ.
A new day had dawned for Cy. He
had made a happy discovery. There was something to live for; now
his thoughts could be occupied with other things than his own
misery. As we see him out in the sunshine we know that he spends
much of that time bringing forth the treasures he has laid up in
heaven. He has learned many of the precious promises of God's
Word. In his silent world he is occupied with interceding for his
attendants and the cause of Bethphage. He also has the glorious
hope that some day all will be changed. Then he will be able to
walk on the streets of the New Jerusalem; the tongue so long
silent will be able to sing with the redeemed: "Worthy is the Lamb
that was slain!"
And Cy has other interests, too.
Now he insists that he must be at all Sunday morning services when
he is able. When Holy Communion is celebrated, he is there in the
north aisle of the chapel waiting for the assuring words: "The
body of Christ, given for thee."
As the years have gone by, his
room has become almost a sanctuary, for when the workers are tired
and discouraged they can go to Cy's room and tell their troubles.
In him they have a father confessor that will not divulge the
secrets of their hearts, and a priest who will plead their cause
at the throne of grace.
By this time the reader has
discovered that Cy does not speak. The workers at Bethphage will
not agree to that, for they say, 'He speaks with his eyes." Cy is
so rigid in body that he cannot move is head in answer to your
questions, but those who know him best can tell by the blinking of
his eyes what is his answer. Many stories could be told of how
questioning they have learned to know his wants.
It was thus that the writer was
able to have the interview that verified this story. With Sister
Elizabeth as interpreter many questions were asked and gradually
the story unfolded. It was during that interview that I asked Cy
among other things: "Do you have any special Bible promise that
you treasure?" With a warm glow his eyes turned to a wall motto,
and there it was, "My grace is sufficient for thee." (2 Cor.
12:9.) There was the explanation why it was possible for this
helpless man to meet his troubles with a smile.
Then we spoke of the "glorious
hope" and how some day all would be changed. That was a moment
that we who were present will never forget, for Cy responded in
his characteristic way. There was a twinkle in his eyes and his
countenance brightened. There was a sound of holy stillness. I
can, however, well imagine that the angels of God that were
hovering near could hear Cy say in his soul: "Amen, come, Lord
Jesus."
NOTE: Cy
departed to be with his Lord on January 18, 1944. This story was
written the preceding year.
Carl
"Wherefore we faint not:
but though our outward man is decaying, yet our inward man is
renewed day by day." (2 Cor. 4:16.)
As one enters Emmaus and ascends
the stairs and turns to the right, glancing in at the first open
door your attention will be called to a middle-aged man lying in
bed. It is Carl C. He has not always been in that helpless
condition. As a little boy he ran about and played just as other
healthy children. He went to school and at the usual age was
confirmed. This took place in the old fatherland, in the community
north of Västervik.
In early childhood he lost his
father through an accidental death. But he had an industrious and
God-fearing-mother that gave her son the best education possible
under the circumstances.
In regard to the choice of
occupation, Carl chose to be a carpenter. The mother no doubt
hoped that her son would remain with her in the 
fatherland.
But there was Viking blood running in Carl's veins and like many
another youngster he had an attack of America-fever. He like
Petter Jonson wanted to go to the wonderful land in the West. At
the age of eighteen the cottage where he lived with his mother
became too crowded and he directed his footsteps toward America. I
do not know if he had the same idea of America that Selma
Lagerlöf had as a child. She had observed a family board a
train for the land of the West. She watched them with a feeling
that approached envy. For to her America was the most wonderful
land in all the world. It was the land of great possibilities.
There one could find abundant riches, and surely fortune and
happiness. There would be no poverty, For the leaves on the trees
were of pure gold. If you were in need of money, all you had to do
was to pick a few of these golden leaves. Carl did not of course
expect to pick gold from the trees. It is, however, certain that
in wonderful America he did expect to attain to success,
independence, fortune - And now he is bedridden at Bethphage.
Carl came to America in 1921.
First he stayed in Iowa two years and then he spent a year in
Minnesota. Afterward he directed his footsteps to the great
metropolis, Chicago. There he found employment as a cabinetmaker.
Fortune seemed to smile on him. There was plenty of work and the
pay was good. He seemed to coin money. Now he could build his air
castles. But his life and thought were mostly concerned with
earthly things. In success God was forgotten. There was no open
enmity with God and His Word, but the childhood faith was dead.
Occasionally he would attend church services, first one place and
then another, but he did not affiliate with any congregation;
neither was there any deep desire for peace with God.
It is hard to tell when the
illness of Carl started. It stole upon him unawares. He believes
it was in 1926 that he began to have peculiar feelings in his
feet. He noticed that as he stood in the crowded street car,
hanging to the straps, that his legs and feet did not serve him as
usual. A casual observer seeing him at that time might have
thought that he was drunk. For some time he was not concerned
about this condition, but in a couple of years he began to seek
medical advice. At first the doctors seemed to be puzzled as to
his condition, and only sug-
gested that something was wrong with his nerves. At that time
Carl heard of a noted nerve specialist at the Chicago University.
It was he that informed him that he was afflicted with multiple
sclerosis. The peculiarity of this disease is that it seems to
destroy the nerves that control the muscles. It is generally known
to he incurable.
You can well imagine that this
diagnosis was to Carl as the sentence of a lifetime imprisonment
would be to an innocent man. His hopes were crushed and his air
castles were for the moment shattered into a million pieces. All
his plans and dreams had come to naught. Now sickness and need
stared him in the face.
Added to this came the depression
of 1929 and the reduction of wages. In a couple of years he was
without work. Had he been in the usual physical strength he might
have found something to do, but now he was not able to do rough
work.
Carl had a married brother living
in Chicago and there he found a home for the time being. But his
condition continued to become worse and soon he was confined to
his bed. It was not pleasant to ask this favor in his brother's
home, but what could he do? At this time Carl's sister-in-law had
frequented the services in the Messiah Lutheran Church, where T.
L. Rydbeck is the pastor. In her predicament she turned to the
pastor for advice and help. Pastor Rydbeck visited Carl and seeing
his sad condition decided what should be done. Here was a poor man
in bonds in a strange land. Pastor Dahl in days past had often
written and pleaded that it was needful to build a Christian home
for suffering and helpless brethren from the homeland. To realize
this goal Bethphage had been founded. Pastor Rydbeck wrote Dr.
Lonnquist and within fourteen days Carl had arrived and was
received into the large Bethphage family. That was in the spring
of 1935.
The greater part of the time
since his arrival he has spent in bed. But through the help and
concern of his relatives, he has gotten a wheel chair; and since
the incline has been built in Emmaus he has been able to spend
some time out of doors and also go to church where he has been
able to take part in the beautiful worship service of the
Lord.
He enjoys to do this, for
something has happened to Carl since he came to Bethphage. He is a
changed man. He has settled his account with the Lord. He has come
to certainty in regard to the forgiveness of sins and his sonship
with God. As a poor sinner he found that Cod in His mercy has
provided a Saviour that can save to the uttermost. As a
consequence he sees the present and the future from a different
viewpoint. The love of Christ and a living hope has thrown a new
light on life and its sufferings. In spite of his bonds he can
consider himself fortunate, for his heart is filled with the peace
and joy of Christ.
It is to be noticed that his
condition is weakened from time to time. He is now not able to
write letters to his dear mother in Sweden or to his old friends
and relatives in this country, but must have the help of others.
He is still able to read, but has noticed more difficulty in this
matter. As yet he is able to feed himself. In this condition he
quietly in patience and peace awaits the time of the redemption of
the body. He loves the words, "Yet a little while." Surely it is
not necessary to
mention that he feels deep gratitude to God and the friends of
Bethphage for the kindness shown him while here.
And thus Carl continues to live
in the refuge of those that are in bonds. Now he can unite with
the apostle: "We know that if the earthly house of our tabernacle
be dissolved; we have a building from God, a house not made with
hands, eternal in the heavens."
--G. A. Peterson
NOTE: Carl
departed this life March 10, 1944.
"Taciturn George"
That was the expression
that had been applied to George Fouts, who ended his days at the
Bethphage Mission, December 1, 1941. He was disinclined to speak
during the last years of his life, largely for the reason that his
affliction made him that way. He was an epileptic of the "grand
mal" type and as the years went by became more and more helpless.
Some of our guests have a sad
story back of their affliction and this was also true of George.
Sister Aurora, who has been on the committee for admittance almost
from the beginning of Bethphage, tells me that George was normal
and active in his childhood. But one day he was out playing with
the boys of his neighborhood in Oakland, California. The boys hit
on the idea of playing a prank on George, but it proved to be no
play matter. They put him into a manhole of the sewer system, put
on the covering and left him. Of course that was a most
frightening experience for the boy. George kept calling for help
but none came; until hours after a man came by and heard the cry
of anguish.
George was then rushed to a
physician and while there had his first convulsion. For a while it
seemed that nothing serious had happened but as time went on he
began to have renewed attacks and the parents
George Fouts and John
were sad hearted to know that they had a son who was an
epileptic. What could they do about it? Other doctors were
consulted, but to no avail. It was when he was a lad of thirteen
that Rev. N. P. Anseen, who was the Lutheran pastor in Oakland
said to the mother (for the father had passed away in the
meantime) that an institution for epileptics had been founded at
Axtell, Nebraska. Application was duly made and George was entered
at Bethphage on March 20, 1915 and according to our record book,
he was guest No. 16.
He was placed in Home Nazareth, a
cottage for men that was rented in the village of Axtell. Yes,
were "taciturn George" able to speak he could tell the story of
the early beginnings of Bethphage. During those early months and
years George was still an active youngster and between his
seizures used to be full of mischief and demanded watching. It was
at that time that he became a member of the confirmation class and
was taught the way of salvation in Christ. One day he made his
vows to be faithful to the Saviour until death. It was in that
faith that he ended his days on earth.
As a boy he had always been
interested in trains and as he dreamed his dreams in the days of
his youth, he would always see himself as the engineer of a
locomotive on the western plains. That ambition remained with him
and he would often tell Dr. Lonnquist that he wanted to complete
his education and take up his life work. I can well imagine that
it was no pleasant task to have to tell George that he would have
to wait and see how his health would be. Time and an increasing
number of seizures told him that it was no use to plan for the
realization of his boyhood dream. Instead the attacks became more
severe and six or seven years ago he was confined to his bed in
our present Home Emmaus. And there during the last days of
November he lost his battle for life after some thirty severe
attacks.
One of the idiosyncrasies of
George during the last years of his illness was the desire to be
up and dressed in his Sunday best on two occasions during the
year; on the Fourth of July and Christmas Eve. Having done this he
was content to go hack to bed for days to come. I do not know the
reason for the special interest in the first of these festive
days; but I can at least imagine the reason for the second. I am
told that his mother was always solicitous that George should have
a Merry Christmas and would send money with instructions that her
son was to have a large box of good things "from mother." Of
course he got other things from the friends of Bethphage but he
was always looking for the special box and when that appeared he
was a happy boy again. A year ago on Christmas eve I saw him
dressed as usual and sitting in his wheel chair. With others he
was gathered around the Christmas tree in Emmaus. He never said a
word but there was still the glow of expectancy in his eyes.
If "taciturn George" could have
spoken before he left this vale of suffering and tears, what would
he have said? I need not elaborate on his unspoken testimony. You
who read this are the friends of Bethphage. You have helped George
to bear his burdens. You ask no praise or gratitude for the
helping hand that you have extended this brother in the name of
our compassionate Saviour. It is enough to know that our deeds of
kindness to him spoke a Gospel that he understood. May his soul
rest in peace.
© 2002 for the NEGenWeb Project by Pam Reitsch, Ted &
Carole Miller.
