I’ve been delving into the Journals of Jim Elliot for the past few nights. It’s a thick book, full of his musings on faith, love, and the mission work he loved. I haven’t been able to keep the tears back as I read his struggles, saw his faith in action, all the while knowing that he would be murdered for his faith in just a few short years.
After having met Elizabeth several times, and having read all of her books, I couldn’t help but smile as I read Jim’s entries in October of 1951.
October 18
I am discovering Betty all over again these days. She has taken on a new meaning and power- and purity. Last two nights on top of Shelton delightful. Her body, once the thing that disturbed my thoughts of marrying her, seems now to fit the picture well. Thank God for her! Pure and warm and relaxed in my arms- I never guessed it could be. Waiting will be a trial, but loving her purifies me, somehow. “He who loves not lives not,” said Raymond Lull. Amen, oh, amen!
October 21
Preached at Kenilworth Hall, Kenilworth, New Jersey on John 8:31. Betty and Phil and Marg picked me up afterward, then to New York for Pete and then Franconia, New Hampshire. In the car she pressed my fingers to her lips…
October 22
Climbed Bald Mountain. Wind tangling her hair. Kerosine lamp shadows…by the fire.
October 23
The Flume, the Boiler, Lonesome Lake, the Old Man of he Mountain. Night by the fire. I cried a little at thoughts of leaving her.
October 24
Mount Washington. Happy frankness in discussion on the way down. The waterfall that formed two flows, then one, two, and emptied into the pool. Dinner at the hotel in Littleton. Storm at Echo Lake. She wore pearl earrings for me.
October 25
She sat at my feet while Pete read some, reclining in black skirt and sweater as Pete read the Ballad of the Northern Lights.