ONE stormy Sunday afternoon, at the hour when a class of young women usually gathered in a little mountain cottage, one young girl only waited for her teacher.
She had been learning during the week the sweet words contained in the 53rd of Isaiah; and as she toiled up the hillside she had been repeating the verses to herself; but they were only to her then as the “very lovely song of one who had a pleasant voice.” She did not know the meaning of “being healed by His stripes.”
After prayer, with which the hour of teaching always began, Mary repeated the first four verses of the chapter. When she reached the fifth verse:
“He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed,” the tears filled her eyes, and before reaching the end of the verse her head sunk down, and the fast-falling tears dropped on the open Bible before her as she sobbed out:
“It was for me, it was for me.”
The intense solemnity of that moment prevented any other words being spoken than these, in answer to her words:
“Let us thank Him, dear child, that it was for you;” and they knelt down, and after the teacher had thanked the Lord for opening the blind eyes of her dear scholar to see Jesus as her substitute, the weeping girl in broken words said:
“Lord Jesus! I thank Thee that Thou didst die for me, that Thou didst take my punishment;” and then the sweet calm of conscious acceptance in the Beloved stole into the broken heart, and peace with God was sweetly realized.
Rising from their knees, the teacher saw a troubled look pass over the bright face upon which “the light of His countenance” was shining, and in deep distress the poor child said:
“O! my father, my mother, my brother, they do not know this joy!”
So they knelt again to plead for those still “far off,” and rose up comforted.
The joy of resurrection life filled the heart of that young girl with unspeakable joy, but it was only when by faith she could say, “It was for me, it was for me.”
Till the disciples saw for themselves that the grave of Jesus was empty, the words of the women who returned from the sepulcher were like “idle tales.” Have you, who, it may be, are reading these words, ever known the joy of the realization that “He was wounded for your transgressions, that He was bruised for your iniquities, that the chastisement of your peace was upon Him?”
If not you are far from God—outside in the darkness of unbelief and death—and till you accept the love of a living, loving Saviour, and see Him as your Sin-Bearer, there is no peace, no life, no joy for you.
O! believe this love that is yearning over you—that was stronger than death, and is infinite as God Himself.
ML 09/01/1918