Margaret Baxter: An Artful Soul Physician, Part III

Margaret Baxter: An Artful Soul Physician, Part III

We know the name Richard Baxter, the Puritan pastor and author, but we are much less familiar with the spiritual writings of his wife, Margaret Baxter. Yet, when we uncover the rich buried treasure of her soul care and spiritual direction ministry, we have to wonder why in the world the world has not told her amazing stories sooner.

Under the Power of Melting Grief: Telling the Truth about Tears

We learn not only from Margaret’s life, but also from her death. Most of what we know of her we glean from her husband’s memorial to her, written one month after her death. Baxter published it as A Breviate of the Life of Margaret, The Daughter of Francis Charlton, and Wife of Richard Baxter. Later, John T. Wilkinson reprinted it with the beautiful title Richard Baxter and Margaret Charlton: A Puritan Love Story.

Baxter prefaces his memorializing with the candid admission that it was, “. . . written, I confess, under the power of melting grief.”[i] Knowing the likely criticism for such openness, Baxter continues, “. . . and therefore perhaps with the less prudent judgment; but not with the less, but the more truth; for passionate weakness poureth out all, which greater prudence may conceal.”[ii] According to Baxter, Christians, of all people, should be the most honest about pain. In our grieving, we should not conceal the truth of tears this side of heaven.

It was not simply the shock and nearness of Margaret’s death that left her husband so frank. Years later in his autobiography, Baxter expresses how his wife’s death left him “in depth of grief.”[iii] Interestingly, the original editor of Baxter’s autobiography suppressed this phrase. Fortunately, truer historians have uncovered it—for the benefit of all who dare speak the truth about sorrow.[iv]

Richard Baxter understood the truth that it’s normal to hurt—even for “full-time Christian workers.” His entire biography of dear Margaret is a tear-stained tribute to the affection they shared and the sadness he endured.

Of course, Baxter also understood the truth that it’s possible to hope—for all Christians. Listen to his mingled hurt and hope. “She is gone after many of my choice friends, who within this one year are gone to Christ, and I am following even at the door. Had I been to enjoy them only here, it would have been but a short comfort, mixed with the many troubles which all our failings and sins, and some degree of unsuitableness between the nearest and dearest, cause. But I am going after them to that blessed society where life, light, and love, and therefore, harmony, concord, and joy, are perfect and everlasting.[v]

Perhaps one reason why we practice denial is our fear that entering our grief might so consume us that we will be overwhelmed with worldly sorrow. Baxter’s Christian experience reminds us that this doesn’t have to be the case. We can look fallen life squarely in the eyes, admit the truth that it is a quagmire of pain and problems, and still live hopefully now if we also look toward life in our heavenly world to come.

In the last paragraph of his tribute to Margaret, Baxter succinctly combines these two realities. “Therefore in our greatest straits and sufferings, let us comfort one another with these words: That we shall for ever be with the Lord.”[vi] Shakespeare’s Romeo said, “He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.” Baxter might have added, “He fears facing scars who never embraces the truth that by Christ’s wounds we are healed.”

[i]Ibid., p. 56.
[ii]Ibid.
[iii]Ibid., 13
[iv]Ibid., p. 197.
[v]Ibid., p. 57.
[vi]Ibid., p. 149.

Held, Part II

Held, Part II

Guest Blog by Pastor Aaron Tolson

Youth Pastor of CROSS-EYED Youth Ministry

Held has always been one of those songs that tugs at my own heart. Being the father of two amazing young children, I must admit that I can’t imagine losing either one of them. My prayer every night to God is “keep them healthy and strong.” Perhaps my prayer should be “keep ME healthy and strong.”

Then She Was Gone

Less than two months ago, one of the members of the nationally-known group Selah, Todd Smith and his wife Angie gave birth to a beautiful little girl named Audrey Caroline. Their time with their brand new baby was special – seeing as how they knew that her even being alive was a miracle in and of itself. Months earlier they had learned that Audrey had developed several different problems which meant a very small chance at being born alive. For 2 ½ hours, though, Todd, Angie, and the rest of the family were able to share earth with another special little girl. Then, she was gone.

Angie has written several blogs about the experience as well as a letter to her daughter after she passed away. Warning! You will need several boxes of tissues. http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/2008/01/beginning-of-story.html

Then three weeks ago in our service, we showed the clip “99 balloons” which is another story about the loss of a child. Warning! You will need another box of tissues to watch this. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=th6Njr-qkq0

Job-Like Questions

These heart-wrenching stories bring about several different personal responses: a deep love and appreciation for my own children, doubts about whether I would be able to handle a loss like that, and then a question directly for God that goes something like “What are You thinking? What purpose can that serve? Certainly Your kingdom is big enough that You don’t really need to use the death of an innocent child…right?!”

Having recently rolled that around in my head, and coming to some initial conclusions that mesh with my theological musings, it was of no coincidence that the very question should arise from someone else’s experience and present an opportunity for me to minister to them.

This past weekend I worked as a Spiritual Director on a retreat weekend in an undisclosed location in West Virginia. This was an opportunity for individuals within the body of Christ to have an encounter with God and specifically His grace! At one particular point in the weekend, a lady came to me with her pain, hurt, and confusion. Four years earlier, her daughter had gotten sick and within twenty-four hours had died. It was very unexpected and heartbreaking. Their daughter, Nora, was about to turn three.

Nora’s Mom

For four years, this mom had been carrying around some very hard questions that others had been unable to help her gain clarity on. She shared with me that she attends a church that believes in the healing power of God and she has seen God heal others – some quickly, some over a period of time. This reinforced her question about God – why didn’t He heal her daughter? Was it that He couldn’t? Was it that He could, but then apparently chose not to? What was God thinking?! Then she was confused about whether it was ok to feel angry toward God or not! Understandable.

It was one of those moments where there is other stuff happening and time is pressing - this isn’t a sit-down-and-chat counseling kind of moment. I took a split-second mental pause to clear my head and listen for God to speak. Here is what came out:

First, it’s ok for you to feel angry. God created you with emotions – to feel the full range of them, from the greatest joy to the very pit of frustration and anger. God gave you those emotions to experience, not to fight. Don’t condemn yourself for having strong emotions, particularly with regard to the loss of your daughter.

Second, can I speak some truth to you? What if it isn’t about what God did or didn’t do, what if it isn’t about whether God for some reason chose not to heal her – as if to punish you in some way? What if it is about God allowing the consequences of sin. This got her attention, and I know exactly what was going through her mind – she was expecting me to launch into some talk about God’s judgment for some sin in her (or her husband’s) life that resulted in the death of her daughter. But that is NOT where I was going… Instead, I took her back to the Garden. We reflected on the truth that God created Adam and Eve and placed them in a place that they could enjoy. Sin, however, resulted in several consequences, one of which is a sin-cursed earth filled with death, diseases, and things that just don’t agree with the virility of our human life.

I have come to believe firmly that God is a Creator who is filled with joy, and delight, and can’t help but continue to be creative. He creates things that know how to create more things! The Bible says that before the foundations of the earth He knew me – and He knew Nora as well. He knew that she would be alive for only 3 years. He knew that Audrey Caroline Smith would only last 2 hours. But they are just as much Image Bearers as you or I are. They are an expression of His creativity no matter how short or long they exist here on earth, and He delights in each and every single human being He thought up, fashioned, created, and placed here on this planet. It was due to His joy and creativity that He just had to create them, to create Nora.

You Are Special: Imago Dei

It reminded me of the story “You Are Special” by Max Lucado. I picture Eli, the wood worker, taking such joy in creating each individual Wemmick – some big, some small, some skinny, some fat, some with hats, and some with big noses – each one a different expression of his creativity! Eli took such delight in his creations simply because He had made them and they reflected a bit of who He was. He delighted in creating Punchinello too. But Eli also knew that when He created Punchinello that he would enter a town filled with other wooden Wemmicks who were going to put stickers and dots all over him, cause him to focus on second-things, and get wrapped up in developing people-pleasing flesh – forgetting all about who it was who made him. But that doesn’t stop Eli from creating or placing him in the town.

Yet, this story doesn’t accurately reflect what we deal with. For Lucado’s story to be more realistic, then the perfect little town where the Wemmicks live would also have to be filled with termites! So, not only was this a place filled with hurting and broken people, but a world that is literally eating away at the Wemmicks’ bodies. This, I feel, is a more accurate picture.

We live in a world filled with broken people. A world filled with termites – things that eat away at our very existence. Yet this is no reflection of the character of the Creator, but rather a statement about the consequences of sin. This also does not make God less joyful or less creative, nor does it take away the pure delight He has with each Image Bearer he places into the broken world. I do believe that His “heart” hurts knowing His creation will only last a little while and that in turn will lead to the hurt, pain, and heartache experienced by other Image Bearers He created.

I continued with the mom. God had already thought up Nora and He so delighted in her that He just had to create her. He took such joy in this little life – regardless of the length of time here. She was a unique expression of His creativity. It pains God to know that you are hurting, but He’s not upset that you’re upset about it. He understands perfectly.

Choose to live in the truth of who God is and how much He delights in you… and Nora.

Finally. Freedom.

A Voice of Healing

A Voice of Healing

Picture the scene. It’s Civil War America. Women have no right to vote. Across the South, Blacks have no rights whatsoever. President Lincoln is assassinated. His widow, Mary Lincoln, is left devastated. To whom does she turn?

To a Black woman.

To Elizabeth Keckley.

In the story of her life Behind the Scenes, or Thirty Years a Slave and Four Years in the White House, Keckley explains, “. . . I have been intimately associated with that lady (Mrs. Lincoln) in the most eventful periods of her life. I have been her confidante . . .”[1]

Given the inauspicious beginnings of Keckley’s life story, her spiritual friendship with Mary Lincoln is staggering. “My life has been an eventful one. I was born a slave—was the child of slave parents—therefore I came upon the earth free in God-like thought, but fettered in action.”[2]

How in the world did a Black woman of that cultural era become confidante to the slain President’s wife? Keckley understood how. “God rules the universe.”[3]

All Silver in Heaven

Like her Savior, Keckley was a woman of sorrow acquainted with grief, and thus able to bring sustaining and healing spiritual care to Mrs. Lincoln. Though enslaved, her first few years were at least spent in the love of her intact family. However, soon her father was sold to another slaver. As Keckley picturesquely recalls it:

“But the golden dream faded all too soon. . . . The announcement fell upon the little circle in that rude log cabin like a thunderbolt. I can remember the scene as if it were but yesterday;—how my father cried out against the cruel separation; his last kiss; his wild straining of my mother to his bosom; the solemn prayer to Heaven; the tears and sobs—the fearful anguish of broken hearts. The last kiss, the last goodbye; and he, my father, was gone, gone forever. . . . The shadow eclipsed the sunshine, and love brought despair. The parting was eternal. The cloud had no silver lining, but I trust that it will be all silver in heaven.”[4]

Years later, through a series of sovereign appointments, Elizabeth Keckley finds herself in the role of dressmaker for the President’s wife. More than that, she finds herself in the role as the President’s wife sacred friend.

A Tornado of Sorrow

Upon the announcement of the President’s death, Mrs. Lincoln was inconsolable. Mrs. Secretary Wells asked Mrs. Lincoln who could comfort her. “Is there no one, Mrs. Lincoln, that you desire to have with you in this terrible affliction?”

Mrs. Lincoln responded, “Yes, send for Elizabeth Keckley. I want her just as soon as she can be brought here.”[5]

Bringing her in, Mrs. Wells excused herself and Keckley was left alone with Mrs. Lincoln. “She was nearly exhausted with grief, and when she became a little quiet, I asked and received permission to go into the Guests’ Room, where the body of the President lay in state.”[6]

Returning to Mrs. Lincoln’s room, Keckley reports:

“I found her in a paroxysm of grief. Robert was bending over his mother with tender affection, and little Tad was crouched at the foot of the bed with a world of agony in his young face. I shall never forget the scene—the wails of a broken heart, the unearthly shrieks, the terrible convulsions, the wild, tempestuous outbursts of grief over the soul.”[7]

How did Keckley respond? “I bathed Mrs. Lincoln’s head with cold water, and soothed the terrible tornado as best I could. Tad’s grief at his father’s death was as great as the grief of his mother, but her terrible outbursts awed the boy into silence.”[8]

Beyond the Dark, Mysterious Shadows of Death

In those days, of all people, a formerly enslaved Black woman was the one human being on the face of the earth who could comfort the President’s widow! And how? With her empathy. With her silence. With her physical presence. With her loving companionship.

“Every room in the White House was darkened, and every one spoke in subdued tones, and moved about with muffled tread. The very atmosphere breathed of the great sorrow which weighed heavily upon each heart. Mrs. Lincoln never left her room. She denied admittance to almost every one, and I was her only companion, except her children, in the days of her great sorrow.”[9]

Mrs. Lincoln’s testimony says it all. “Lizabeth, you are my best and kindest friend, and I love you as my best friend.”[10]

Elizabeth Keckley not only understood how to offer sustaining comfort. She also recognized how to impart healing hope. “At the grave, at least, we should be permitted to lay our burden down, that a new world, a world of brightness, may open to us. The light that is denied us here should grow into a flood of effulgence beyond the dark, mysterious shadows of death.”[11]

The Voice of the Voiceless

All of us, even the “best trained,” at times feel speechless when face-to-face with a grieving family member. But have we an excuse to remain voiceless?

If a Black woman in Civil War America—the epitome of voicelessness—can soothe the tumult of the President’s widow, can we not find our voice in the Wonderful Counselor? A voice that speaks out of our own melting grief, a voice that speaks with soothing kindness, a voice that speaks of heavenly hope. A courageous voice from a courageous soul set free by the One who calls Himself the Word.

[1]Keckley, Elizabeth. Behind the Scenes, or Thirty Years a Slave and Four Years in the White House. Reprinted by the Schomburg Library of Nineteenth-Century Black Women Writers, ed. Henry Louis Gates, Jr., New York: Oxford University Press, 1988, p. xiv.
[2]Ibid., p. 17.
[3]Ibid., p. xii.
[4]Ibid., pp. 22-24.
[5]Ibid., p. 189.
[6]Ibid.
[7]Ibid., pp. 191-192.
[8]Ibid.
[9]Ibid., pp. 192-193.
[10]Ibid., p. 210.
[11]Ibid., p. 24.