"Thou in Faithfulness"

Recently I read about a man named Patrocinio Martinez, a native of New Mexico. He wasn't converted until later in life, but the Lord was watching over him until beginning to end.

During the winter of 1902, a fever swept through the Martinez home. Pat's wife, Rosaura, cared the best she could for her five children, but death came even so. The two oldest boys, Isidro and Basilio, fell first, followed by their daughter Carmelita. Pat was heartbroken, but said, "I praise God yet, friends." Rosaura was distressed, and added to her grief was the burden of carrying another child; but she continued to tend to her loved ones. Sadly, death wasn't finished with this family yet, and dealt an especially cruel blow. The favorite, baby Manuel, was the next to be stricken with the fever, and he didn't make it. Losing her "little Spaniard" was too much for Rosaura. She suffered a mental breakdown, sobbing constantly and refusing to eat or care for Soledad, the only remaining child. Patrocinio sought in vain to help her. His wife would listen to no one.

Pat was in a quandary. How could he go off and support his family when Rosaura was in such a state? The doctor was quite a ways away, and there was no guarantee that he could offer assistance anyway. Pat had been raised in the Catholic faith, but he nevertheless felt that God was more approachable than the church made Him out to be. One night while lying in bed with the sound of his wife's crying in his ear, he talked to God in his mind, telling his Maker all about the situation. Eventually he fell asleep, emotionally spent.

That night Pat had a dream that he was in an unfamiliar forest. There was a road in this forest, and he decided to follow it. He came upon a shocking sight. There, in broad daylight, was a young man hanging on a scaffold. Disturbed as he was, Pat looked closely at him; was it someone he knew? No, he concluded, the man didn't look familiar. Maybe if he kept walking he would meet someone that could explain the strange sight to him. He didn't have to wait long. He soon met a man that he sensed was somehow important, that knew something about all of this.

After explaining what he had seen, the stranger looked at him tenderly. "You mean to tell me that you did not recognize the man on the scaffold?"

"No. Why should I?"

The man led him back to the spot, and beckoned him to look again. Pat obeyed, and was horrified to see that it was his son Manuel!

The stranger went on to explain to Pat that that was the kind of person his beautiful baby would have been had he lived. The family, he said, was spared greater sorrow by the baby's death. Furthermore, Pat was to tell Rosaura to stop crying and to start thinking of the child that was to be born. This child would be a blessing to the world, and should be given a godly name. "Look forward to the future and the family you will have," the man admonished. "Do not weep for the past."

With that, Patrocinio awoke to find himself still in bed with his sorrowful wife. He leaped out, and exclaimed, "My dear wife, I have just learned something, and you must listen to me!" Taking her by the shoulder, he got her attention and related the dream.

As he spoke, Rosaura's weeping subsided. When he finished, she was completely silent. "It is the truth of God," she finally said. "Now I understand, and I must obey!" And she did. The next day she was up and about again. As much as she didn't want to, she ate, and held back the tears that wanted to spill over. Their son was eventually born, and they called him Jose, meaning "God shall add." God did add many more children to their family, and Jose, after many long, dark years, became a Bible and literature evangelist--truly bringing good to the world.

Whatever our grief, whatever our trial, may this serve as a reminder that, "Whether good or ill befall, it must be good for me." We may not understand how that can be now, but we may trust that it is so, and say with the psalmist, "I know, O LORD, that thy judgments are right, and that Thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me." (Psalm 119:75).

Blessings,
Jean