Article July 31, 1926 Issue

"Consider the lilies"

S. ELLA SHELHAMER

One hot summer day the writer was a member of a company returning by auto-stage from a sojourn in the mountains of a southern land. A young gentleman of the party endeavored to beguile his companions with humorous remarks and enlivening songs. As the sun rose higher and the discomforts of the journey increased, the young man's attempts at humor fell upon somewhat unappreciative ears; and the climax was reached when in traversing an arid, sunscorched valley he halted the chauffeur and asked permission to escort the passengers to a spot where they might gather water lilies. After some persuasion some of the party left the stage to follow their guide, not, however, without some misgivings as to the sincerity of the young humorist's motives, as it appeared impossible to find water lilies in what seemed to be a waterless plain. They crossed a dusty, sun-baked stubble field and passed from sight behind the shoulder of a low hill. Later, shouts of joy were heard as they appeared, their arms laden with the moist, fragrant blossoms of the water lily. As the writer's thought was lifted to "consider the lilies," a paean of praise went up to the Giver of all good, who graciously bestows His blessings upon the unbelievers, as well as on the faithful, who obediently follow their Guide over the burning stubble fields of life to seek the refreshing oasis of His presence.

All of us at times find ourselves wanderers over the sun-baked stubble fields of earthly experience. We plod hopelessly along, until in our extremity we turn from materiality to divine Mind, to find that God, the fount of all good, has been with us all the way. The lilies, betokening His love and care, were there for us when we in humility and joyful expectancy rounded the hill of discouragement and unbelief to seek for them. We should never doubt our Father's tender care for us, nor His ability to discern our needs and His willingness bountifully to supply them. Why should we not at all times be hopefully expectant of blessings, though the time seem inopportune and the place unpromising? When spiritual understanding and calm trust replace doubt, ingratitude, and fear, we experience a touch of heaven on earth. Out of the fullness of his spiritual experiences the prophet Isaiah declared: "The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. ... For in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert. And the parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water: ... And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away."

There was once a wilderness experience pointing a fruitful lesson for us all. Hagar, Sarah's Egyptian handmaid, was banished from home and sent into the desert with her young son, Ishmael. She had but one bottle of water; and when it was spent, she laid the child under a bush to die. Doubtless, when Hagar first found herself thus summarily dealt with, anger and resentment burned at white heat in her bosom. Then, as she wandered farther into the desert and the water was spent, fear and self-pity held sway over her emotions, until, finally, despair and the desperate condition of her child cast every unholy thought from her consciousness, and in penitence, humility, and faith she turned her face from the child and toward God.

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