In the Valley of the Shadow of Death

If the wheels of life could only run smoothly, how good would be the tales that we might write, where all would be pleasant and end happily. But in the struggle of life, there is a great opposing force ever at work and seemingly never idle, and we are hindered in our endeavors by a power only secondary to that of God. This great evil power is opposed to the onward march of the Gospel, and in the Bible we read how Job, the servant of God, was afflicted in body and robbed of all his earthly treasures, even to his children. But God, Whose power is above all other power, stepped in and conquered.

All had been so happy over the new venture of the Home and the great work of rescue and of dreams becoming a reality, and things were going on smoothly. In December of 1944, the members of the Mission held a three-day meeting. At the closing service, Miss Stewart preached a strong sermon on Divine Healing. She urged the ministers and workers to uphold the doctrines of the truth and insisted on stressing divine healing.

“The standard of the church of God,” she said, “has been lowered in too many places, and we must see to it, by the grace of God, that this shall not be our course in Cuba. We, as the people of God, must uphold the Christian standard in spite of suffering. God can work in all suffering through His people, but He must have instruments through which to work. And if I am to be used as such an instrument, then amen, so let it be.

“And I urge upon you brethren, that if I should get sick and one dose of medicine, however small, be the only means of my getting well, let God have His way. I choose death. Such is my consecration.”

It is possible that some who read this story will question the stand taken here of Faith Stewart. The early church in the days of the Apostles, and so soon after the life of the Master in the midst with His healing power, thought it not strange or fanatical to put their faith in the great One Who went about healing the sick from day to day. But we are centuries past those days, and men have gone far and our vision has dimmed; we have been reasoning and are prone to reason for ourselves, and have been taught in the pulpit that the days of healing by the power of God are long past.

So the man who is willing to trust God to the very limit seems now to be the narrow-minded person, and we had rather lean on the arm of science than on the very God who created all things and gave men understanding so that they could use the things He created instead of directly approaching God Himself.

Shortly after the meeting, on December 30, Miss Stewart left Havana for Punta San Juan,* which is four hundred miles from the city, to hold a two-day meeting with several congregations of the church of God. She reached home on the third day of January in 1945. On the following Friday, she complained of not feeling well and took to her bed that same evening. On Saturday morning, a telephone message was sent to the radio station telling of Faith Stewart’s illness. Two of the brethren went to earnest prayer, and the third left at once for Los Pinos, the home of the children.

When he reached there, he found Miss Stewart very ill. Those who watched reported that she had passed through a night of suffering and and intense pain. The minister hastened back to Almendares, getting in touch with workers throughout the Island. He also sent messages to interested friends in the North. Saturday night, Sunday, and Sunday night, her suffering seemed to increase.

The friends who were caring for her decided she had better be taken to Buena Vista where she could have better care and be near the assisting friends and ministers. A physician called and examined her and diagnosed the case as gall stones. He plainly stated that there must be an operation if any hope was to be received, and yet because of her condition, he hesitated. He also feared that it was too much for her to be moved to Buena Vista for a few days yet. During this delay, Faith Stewart grew steadily worse. The burden for her healing grew as the church in Cuba prayed earnestly. Brethren in the North were kept informed of her very grave condition. Finally on Sunday, the fifteenth of January, she was taken to Buena Vista. They took her to the home of the faithful Mama Gonzales, which was her own request.

When placed in the car, she was as helpless as a little child. The chauffeur, who was a Cuban, was very fearful of moving her in that condition, fearing that she would die on the way. It was indeed a sad scene. As she was taken out to the waiting car, mothers and their children stood in front of El Hogar weeping and grieving lest she would never return. But God was there, and the trip to Buena Vista and the home of Mama Gonzales was made in good order. She was tenderly laid in her bed, and those about her went to earnest prayer.

Then they made plans for her care. Some would take care of her at night; others would watch at the bedside by day. The chapel doors were left open that prayer might go up from there both by day and night. There was fasting among them for several days by different groups among the Christians at the mission. By Monday night it seemed that all hope was lost by these faithful friends. As she grew worse, she said, “Lord, into Thy hands I commit it all.” She grew too weak to pray and finally lost consciousness. She was by now no longer able to turn in the bed without the help of others.

Ministers from nearby districts were summoned to Buena Vista and telegrams sent out into the interior, pleading for earnest, believing prayer and getting hold of God in a definite way. Prayer groups were wrestling with God night and day. But, alas, the more they prayed, the worse the case became. But they began to recognize that the enemy was fighting to gain ground.

A nephew of Mama Gonzales, a young man who resided in the same house and had studied medicine, but knowing the stand taken on divine healing, said that from observation, it was a lost case.

By the following Thursday night, her condition had become alarming. To comply with the government law, they were compelled to call in a doctor. He came, and after due examination, he said that he could not understand how she could be alive under the existing circumstances. Then he reported that it was but a matter of hours, humanly speaking. But what a heavy cloud now hung over scores of people who were praying and waiting. In the house where she lay, some sat, sad and fearful, some were weeping, some distressed, some still praying, and others just holding on. There were those who anxiously asked, “What do you think?”

“Sister Stewart is in God’s hands, and He will take care of her.”

That night a cable was sent to the States to some very dear friends, urging prayer. But all this time she lay unconscious. She knew no one and was unable to utter a word.

On Friday the nineteenth, the church fasted and prayed throughout the day and night. Brethren in the United States wired that they were standing with those in Cuba for victory. Crowds pressed in and around the house, and somehow the rumor was sent out that she was dead. But ministers and friends from the various churches sent in word that they too were praying for Miss Stewart. As time went on, it looked more and more like it was a lost case.

The question would often come to them if God would, indeed, let her leave without a word of testimony. They were abiding in God’s will, and the whole case was in God’s hands, and they would have to say amen to His will if death were to have sway. But there were some that felt that truly her work was not done, and these believed that, in spite of the circumstances, God would spare her.

All through the following Saturday night, men and women kept on their faces before God, though apparently there was no change unless it be for the worse. At five-fifteen Sunday morning, there were six faithful Christians at her bedside. As they surrounded her bed, they sang softly, “Who Will Suffer with the Savior?”* and again they talked with God.

Finally one said to her, “Sister Stewart, for several days you have not spoken. Is it possible that you are taking your departure without a single word? We are desperately concerned because people in Cuba are watching and listening. What will we tell the brethren in the North? They will be expecting a testimony if you die. In Cuba, people are going to judge the work by your testimony.”

Her tongue moved and in low, stuttering words, but very clearly, she said: “God can heal me.”

Then, in joy at the sound of her voice again and her own undaunted faith in His healing power, they praised God and took heart.

One of the ministers present left for his home at 6:30 a.m., having not had an hour in bed since Tuesday night. He returned to Mama Gonzales’ home at 1:15 p.m. to remain until the hour of service. As he descended from the step of the bus, he saw the street literally crowded with people and began to wonder what had happened. He entered the house, and it was filled with people in great distress of mind. The deep concern of these people to whom she had come, and for whom she had given all, was truly touching.

Everywhere the sad question was being asked, “Is she dead?” People came as far as forty miles to see her; these were not members of the Church of God. At one time, a worker counted more than five hundred people who had come. Of this number, perhaps about twenty dared to hope to see her alive again. Every room in the house, or the entrance to the house, and the street in front of the house was filled with people. There was no hope in their hearts; they waited only to hear the last word.

On the following Sunday night, the horn of an ambulance tooted, and there entered a doctor accompanied by a friend of Miss Stewart. The friend said, “We have come to take Miss Stewart to a private clinic where I have secured a bed for sixty dollars at my expense. Miss Stewart is dying, and it is necessary she be taken to this clinic where medical attention can be given.”

Christians in the waiting group then explained that Miss Stewart wanted to be left in God’s hands, and that it was her express will that in case she not be able to state her stand, that those who cared for her were informed to stand by and regard her wishes. But the friend contended, in deep concern for Miss Stewart, saying they had taken a fanatical view and that he would consult other members of the mission. He further stated that if Miss Stewart was not taken to the clinic or given medical attention and should die, that the person responsible would be arrested for murder. He further stated that the federation of doctors would take the case.

The minister who was responsible answered, “I am very much surprised at you. As a friend of Sister Stewart, you know her stand on divine healing. Then why all this? I am sorry, but Sister Stewart may be taken to a clinic over my dead body. I repeat again what she said in her message on December 29, and moreover, men and women are dying for principles that are not worth the price of a hat box. What does it matter if I am arrested for a cause I know to be right? Especially one like this which I know is founded on the Bible?”

Naturally, he felt discouraged and left the house, going out to the street. The doctor then asked permission to examine her. It was granted him. But as he proceeded, he found the case to be very complicated and claimed that it would be necessary to have her at the clinic to give her a thorough examination. But of one thing he was certain, her hours were numbered.

Later on, there was sent from the hospital, by the same kind friend, an oxygen tent. The friends caring for her decided among themselves that since it was for her relief and could only bring comfort, they saw no need to object. But God knew that many native Cubans were aware of the battle being waged between life and death. God also knew that this oxygen tent was to them the symbol of scientific help in sickness, and would go far to spoil the clear testimony of healing.

All three doctors—one Cuban, as well as two Americans laboring in a hospital in Havana—were standing by the bed. One of them was making all preparations to connect the oxygen tent.

Faith Stewart lay there still as death. Suddenly she opened her eyes and looked up at the American doctor and said, “Sir, do you know God? Do you know how to pray?”

The man was startled and dropped the fixtures; he turned to his companions and said, “Come, this is no place for us.”

They all three left the room, and the oxygen tent was never connected.

Still the workers prayed on. Now many days she had lain in a coma. Food was put in her mouth by a dropper as day by day they waited on the Lord. On Friday of the twenty-eighth of January, they were sitting up with her at night, and prayer was being offered up to God. One of their number, Sister Campins, a lovely, refined Christian woman whom we have mentioned before, was given a vision. This happened about two o’clock in the morning. She said afterward that she saw Christ enter the room, walking slowly with outstretched arms. She thought at once that only one meaning could be attached to this—He had come to call Faith home to Heaven. She almost cried out in her amazement. Then she sat transfixed as He slowly approached the bedside and laid His hand on Faith Stewart and then passed on.

Then she cried out in utter surprise, “Did you see it? The vision. What does it mean? I believe that God has touched her. I feel that He has settled the matter.”

They prayed no more that evening. Faith took hold on them, and they spent the next day in expectation of the mighty power of God. Prayer for her recovery was suspended, and on Saturday night they sat watching as usual. Morning came, and about eight o’clock, some friends were sitting by her bed.

Suddenly the watchers saw her move, and the kind friend, who was a Methodist minister, arose and stood closer.

“Miss Stewart,” he asked eagerly, “do you know who I am?”

To the joy of all present, she answered clearly, “I cannot see you yet, but the voice sounds like the voice of the kind Dr. Verdece.”

“Yes, it is I. You are right.”

With what rejoicing, they watched her slowly gain strength and make the comeback after twenty-nine days1 in a coma in which she knew nothing. This case is recorded in the medical annals of Havana as a case of mystery. During the long siege, many doctors from the medical colleges had come to learn about this strange case. And now the people were told that she lived. The long test was over; the victory won. God had conquered death, and Faith Stewart arose to resume her labors again.

When she was taken ill, she was a woman weighing one hundred and eighty pounds. When she arose from her sick bed, she weighed just ninety pounds.

One day she started out to walk down the street in the lovely sunshine, where, not very long before, the crowds had gathered to hear of her death. She saw two little children, too young to attend school, playing on the sidewalk as she passed by. One turned to look after her saying, “And she’s still living.”

“And the whole world calls her grandmother,” solemnly replied the other tot.

She passed on, smiling and serene in the great new lease on life and the very joy of living.