Would flash deep truths in human speech,
Would read the revelations here,
The Spirit’s inspiration teach,
Their words would live through tempest shocks,
Their thoughts survive these crumbling rocks.”
~Earl Douglass—
From hisHymn of the Wilderness
MONDAY, JULY29, 1889•JANKOWSKIMANSION
Martha stared out the window as dusk settled over the mountains to the west. The deep purple faded to the black starry sky as the moon rose.
She turned her attention back to her desk and the open Bible that lay there.
Things had been quiet between the two digs since her confrontation with Mr. Spalding and Joe. There’d been no more reported smashed fossils or stolen tools, her men hadn’t found any more cut barbed wire, and no one else had been attackedin the street and beaten. But the more she thought back on the altercation with the two men at the museum, the more she regretted her temper and her words.
Especially after spending time each day reading the Word. When she’d asked Jacob about how to get closer to God, she had never expected that the answer would be so simple.
Even so, each morning and evening she committed time to reading the Scripture. If she truly believed that Almighty God had created all of this, and if Jacob believed that one could have a real relationship with Him, then she had to put her best efforts forth.
She’d always been an avid reader and researcher. Loved learning. Loved taking notes while she read.
Well, she’d taken dozens of pages of notes in the last week alone, but it was hard to understand and even harder to put aside all her habits, which she was coming to realize were bad.
Being raised in a wealthy home was one thing. Being raised by Victoria and Antoni Jankowski was another. Neither of her parents took no for an answer. Especially Mother. She was always in charge and in control. No one dared speak back to her.
Had Martha picked up that habit too? She cringed thinking about how she’d spoken to people. Jacob, Joe, Mr. Spalding ... Gracious. She didn’t want to be a tyrant. And she most definitely didn’t want to be known for her fiery temper.
To be honest, she was used to getting what she wanted. Plain and simple.
Yesterday was another fine example of that. She’d gone to a different church than the one she’d grown up attending and cornered the reverend afterward. Her bold approach with the man showed her that she was all too willing to plow over everyone to get her way.
The man—who’d wanted to be called a pastor, not areverend—had waited quietly while she burst in with her demands to have her questions answered.
When he hadn’t said anything, she stared at him, and he’d responded. “Let’s start over, shall we?”
He led her down a hallway where his wife waited in a little kitchen with a table.
For the next two hours, she’d prodded and questioned.
He answered. Each time calm and patient. Like he was speaking with a child.
Which, she admitted now, she’d acted like one.
They’d pored over many verses together and he helped explain them in a way she understood. A verse he went back to was in Proverbs chapter seventeen.
When he’d first read it aloud, it didn’t make sense to her.
“He that covereth a transgression seeketh love; but he that repeateth a matter separateth very friends.”
“I don’t understand?” She’d rubbed her brow. “Covereth?”
“There’s a great depth to the meaning in this one verse, but let me tackle one piece at a time. When you forgive someone, you should hide it away, never to bring it up again. Because when you repeat it—bring it to the person’s attention time and again—it will separate you from that person. Put a great distance between you. Perhaps for good.”
