“Please don’t fancy me fishing for compliments.”
“Compliments from me would not be so very flattering to one’s vanity. They do not carry weight enough.”
“You believe that one could overcome—any fault?” after a pause between the words.
“With God’s help—yes.”
“Without God’s help—what then?”
I was always so afraid of going astray in these talks. I could feel what I meant, but I could not explain it clearly.
“‘Every good and perfect gift cometh from God,’” I made answer. “And the desire to be better or stronger, to overcome any fault, must proceed from Him.”
“Then why doesn’t he make Christians perfect?”
“God gives us the work to do. He says, ‘My grace shall be sufficient for thee.’ Therefore we are to strive ourselves. He shows us the right way, but if we seek out other paths, or if we sink into indolence waiting for an angel to come and move our idle hands or stir up our languid wills, can we reasonably blame Him?”
“I had not thought of that, I must confess. I had a fancy that—religion did all these things for you.”