Jacob's Way (31 page)

She saw him reach out and then felt his hand on her hair. She felt helpless before him and knew that if he pulled her close, she could not resist.

But he did not. He pulled his hand back and held her gaze for a moment. Then he turned away saying, “Better get to bed, Reisa. We've got to get up early tomorrow.”

As he moved away from her, Reisa stood there feeling somehow that she had been rejected. She quickly moved to the wagon, pulled the canvas over the front, undressed, and put on a gown. She went to pull the blankets over her and lie down, but she could not forget the scene. She could almost feel his hand on her head, but she could not help but think,
I must not be attractive to him.
Somehow the thought troubled her deeply, and she lay awake for a long time thinking of what it would be like to be attractive to a man.

Twenty-Two

J
acob often grew lonely while Reisa was off on her trips with Dov and Ben. They never stayed longer than a week, yet he missed them all. Phineas and Sam were not bad company—especially Sam, who was willing to spend twenty hours a day talking about the Bible. He never seemed to tire of listening to Jacob speak of the Old Testament, and was always quick to locate New Testament Scripture to fit that which Jacob read.

At the moment both of his hosts were outside tending to the morning chores, and Jacob sat alone at the kitchen table. Sam had spent a great deal of time on the Hebrew version of Isaiah 53. It was his favorite book in the Old Testament, and many times he had asked Jacob to read it to him in the original, then to translate it. Something that Sam had said just before going out had troubled Jacob greatly. They had read the whole chapter together, and Sam had insisted that Jacob read verses ten through twelve twice. Jacob had read it, and Sam had said eagerly, “Well, what do you make of that, Jacob?”

Jacob had replied, “I'll admit it seems to fit the death of Jesus.” Sam had smiled with delight but then had left. Now Jacob sat down reading the English translation in Sam's Bible.

Yet it pleased the L
ORD
to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of the L
ORD
shall prosper in his hand.

He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities.

Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he hath poured out his soul unto death: and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

Jacob kept his eyes fastened on the passage, and his lips moved as he whispered softly, “When thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin…” He closed his eyes and leaned back.
What a tremendous thing! That God would make a man an offering for sin. All of the thousands and even hundreds of thousands of lambs slain on Jewish altars, but they did not atone. And here God says that the Messiah will bear iniquities, that he will make his soul an offering for sin.
His eyes dropped to the last verse.
And he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

For a long time Jacob sat there, his face fixed as he resisted what seemed to be the obvious meaning of the passage. He had tried to push the thought away many times.
Jesus may be the one spoken of in Isaiah. He surely was despised and rejected. He was brought as a lamb to the slaughter. He was cut off from the land of the living. Every verse seems to point to him, and yet can it be? Can I have been this wrong all of my life? Can all of my people be wrong?

His thoughts were interrupted as a faint knocking on the door brought him back to the present. He lay the Bible down, got up, and walked to the door. Opening it he found Hilda Swenson standing there holding a paper sack in her hand.

“I baked this morning, Mr. Dimitri. You know we Swedes love pastries, so I thought you men might be getting hungry for something sweet.”

“Come in, Miss Swenson. Yes, indeed. I do have a sweet tooth, and so do the others. Here, sit down and let me fix you some coffee or maybe tea?”

“I like coffee a great deal, but I can't stay long.”

Jacob busied himself with making the coffee, then when he sat down, he opened the paper sack. Taking one of the round, fat pastries, he bit into it. His eyes opened with surprise. “This is delicious! You are wonderful cook, Miss Swenson.”

“Oh, not really. My mother was, but of course, she's not able to cook anymore. She did teach me how to make these sweet rolls.”

Jacob ate two of the pastries and attempted to engage Hilda in a conversation. He found her to be very shy at first. It was the first time he had ever been alone with her, but soon she began to speak more freely.

“And how is that yearling that Dov won for you at the fair?”

“Oh, she is the sweetest thing!” Hilda exclaimed, and her eyes brightened. She was, as usual, wearing overalls and a straw hat to keep her blonde hair up. But now she took it off and her hair fell down her back. She had beautiful hair, blonde and clean with a healthy glow. She was not a pretty woman, but there was a goodness in her face that pleased Jacob a great deal. Of course she was large, much larger than Jacob himself, but he could tell that she was well formed—not fat in the least—no indeed! Her forearms were as strong as a man's, it seemed. Her shoulders were broad, and she gave the impression of great strength.

Jacob Dimitri was a wise old man. Some would even call him crafty. He had learned long ago how to draw people out of their shells, and soon without her realizing it, Hilda was telling him a great deal about herself.

When Jacob asked almost casually if she ever thought of having a husband and a family, she flushed and shook her head. “No.

I don't think of that.”

“I don't see why not. It's natural enough for a healthy young woman to want such things.”

“It's—it's not for me, sir. No man would ever have me.”

“Why not?”

“Why not! Why, look at me. I have this bad scar—and I'm big as a house.”

“No, no, child, you are not. Large perhaps, but healthy and strong.”

Hilda suddenly laughed. She had a good laugh, and her eyes grew merry. “Yes. I'm large enough, all right. I think if I had wrestled that man instead of Dov, I might even have won. But no man wants a cow like me for a wife.” She suddenly grew more serious. “I would never say so to anyone else, but your granddaughter is such a beautiful young woman. She will find a husband, and she will have fine-looking children and be happy. And I'm glad for her.”

“With God anything is possible. Don't you agree?”

For a moment Hilda dropped her head, hiding her eyes. She put her hands together and clasped them, and Jacob saw that her hands were clean although obviously callused. The nails were pink, and the white moon shone. She had really beautiful hands—not feminine, but not masculine either. “I am a Christian,” she said finally. “And I know the Bible says that we can pray for what we want.”

“And do you believe that?”

“I—I don't know, sir. It seems too much.”

“Too much for God! Oh, surely not! He was able to feed the children of Israel for forty years with bread from heaven. Surely he can find a man who would love you and care for you.”

Hilda shook her head and smiled. “That day is gone for me. That's for young girls. I'm thirty-one years old now. What man would want me?”

Jacob saw that she was uncomfortable, and he regretted it. He knew she would make some man a wonderful wife, and he determined privately to talk to Reisa about it. She was a woman and understood such things better than he.

“I've been studying the Bible, the New Testament, with Sam. Of course, I only knew the Old Testament, but he's been showing me some wonderful things.” He hesitated and then said, “How is it that you became a Christian? Were you baptized when you were a baby?”

“Oh, no. I didn't know the Lord until I was fourteen years old.”

“Can you tell me how you came to be a Christian?”

“Well, I've heard several people tell what an awful time they had becoming a Christian. An evangelist came through and told about how he drank, and he killed a man, and he went to jail. Oh, it was awful! And it took all that to bring him to God. But I wasn't that way at all.” She smiled shyly, and her voice was mild. “I began listening to the preacher and to my father, who was a fine Christian man. I heard that Jesus died for our sins, and one time when I was just past fourteen the preacher preached a sermon on the suffering servant. His text was ‘He shall see the travail of his soul and shall be satisfied.'”

Jacob's eyes blinked, and Hilda asked, “What's the matter, Mr. Dimitri?”

“Oh, nothing, Miss Swenson. It's just that I'd been reading that Scripture just before you came.”

“Well, the preacher said,” Hilda went on, “nothing man ever did really satisfied God. No matter how good he was, or how many offerings he made, or how much money he gave. Even if he went to church and did many religious things, he was evil. He said that all had sinned and come short of the glory of God.”

“That is in the Old Testament as well as the New.”

“Is it? Well, it made a great impression on me. I knew I was a sinner. Then when the preacher said, ‘Jesus died for us' and also ‘God saw the travail of his soul and he was satisfied,' oh, that pleased me! How I wanted to satisfy God! I was out in a cotton field the next afternoon chopping cotton, and as I went down the row the verse kept coming to my mind. ‘God will see the travail of his soul and will be satisfied.' And finally I just stopped in the middle of that field. I was all alone that day. I remember it was cool, the wind was blowing, and I just knelt down right between those rows of cotton. The fields were white and the sky was blue, and I just prayed a simple prayer.”

“Can you remember it, my dear?”

“Oh, it was something like ‘Jesus, I'm a sinner. I know that, and I can't help myself. So I ask you to forgive me. You must love me because you died for me.'”

“And that was all.”

“That was all.”

“Well, what happened? Did you feel any different?”

“Not right away. I was a little disappointed. I got up and began hoeing cotton again. It was about ten o'clock in the morning. At noon it was time to get lunch, and after I ate and went back I thought all afternoon about what I had done. And I said, ‘God, I don't feel anything. Shouldn't I shout as some people do?' But nothing happened—except I began to feel—oh, I don't know, Mr. Dimitri. I'm not one to show my emotion much, but I began to think about Jesus again, and as I did I began to feel very relaxed and very happy. I even began singing a song in the cotton field.” And she began to sing.

“What can wash away my sins?

Nothing but the blood of Jesus.

What can make me whole again?

Nothing but the blood of Jesus.”

“I sang it over and over all afternoon.” Hilda's eyes were shining now, and she leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “And ever since that day I felt, somehow, that my soul is safe in his hands. I don't show it much, I suppose, but sometimes I think about what Jesus did for me. And when I read about it my eyes begin to fill up, and I know what I did when I was fourteen years old is still good.”

Jacob was intrigued with this young woman's testimony. He had listened carefully, and now he said, “It's somewhat like Sam's testimony. He was in the army, and he went to a meeting. A preacher preached, and Sam said he just fell on his face and began to cry and beg God to come into his life. And he says that God did it! When he knelt down, he said, he was a sinner, and when he got up, so Sam says, he was a saint.” Jacob rubbed his hands together and shook his head. “I wish my own longings for God could be that simple.”

“I know you're a scholar,” she said, “and can speak other languages and can read the Hebrew in the Bible. My father used to tell me that sometimes smart people have a harder time finding God. He said they get caught up in their search, and they forget to look for the person.”

“Your father sounds like a very wise man.”

“Oh, he wasn't educated, but he was wise. I've noticed that simple people find God quicker than those that have a lot of education.”

Jacob was feeling rather uncomfortable. Everything seemed to be closing in upon him. “I've always been taught to keep the Law. I've believed that if I kept the Law, kept the Sabbath, and tried to obey God, when I stand before him I'll be all right.”

Hilda shook her head slightly. “If we could be saved from our sins simply by keeping the Law, why did Jesus die?”

The simplicity of her question caught at Jacob sharply.

“Everything hinges on Jesus,” Jacob finally said slowly. “He is either the Son of God—or he is not. If he is not, many people are confused and misled. But if he is, then many more are misled in not believing him. With God as my witness, I want to know the truth!” He lifted his sad eyes, and asked directly, “Is Jesus real to you, Miss Swenson?”

Instantly Hilda nodded. “When I pray, I know he is there. When I am lonely and grow afraid, I pray—and suddenly he's there, though I can't see him. But, Mr. Dimitri, Jesus is more real to me than—than you are. He's more real to me than my own flesh.”

Jacob Dimitri had never heard of anything like this, but it had the absolute ring of truth. He said heavily, “Thank you for sharing this with me, Miss Swenson.”

“I must go now,” Hilda said. She stood, headed for the door, but then turned and said, “I'll be praying for you. You are a good man, and your granddaughter is a wonderful woman. I want you both to know the Lord in your hearts.”

After she left, Jacob could not be still. He paced the floor for a long time, then finally left the house. He had put on his coat, for the October wind was getting colder, and he did not bear cold weather well. He walked down to the small creek that wound around the cabin and followed it upstream, not paying attention to the world about him, for his mind was concerned with the world within. He prayed, or tried to, but it seemed there was no answer. Never had he been so confused, and finally, wearily, he turned back home.

He said little the rest of the day, and both Sam and Phineas noticed at lunch that he was quiet. Sam asked if he wanted them to study together, but Jacob said, “No, not right now, I think, Sam.”

All afternoon he kept to himself, sometimes sitting on the porch staring out into the distance. Twice he got up and took a walk, came back, and resumed his vigil.