One day I saw a little girl of twelve years lying in one of the beds of a hospital, and I asked her, “Do you love the Lord Jesus?”
“No,” she said, “but I want to very much.”
“Why?” I inquired, and her reply was— Because I am a sinner. I have tried to be good, but I do want to come to Him, and to love Him.”
“Well; dear,” I said, “think for a few moments of these two verses: ‘God hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all’ (Isa. 53:66All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6)), and, ‘His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree’ (1 Peter 2:2424Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed. (1 Peter 2:24)). Now, if God laid your sins on the Lord Jesus, and He bore them, where are they?”
“Well,” she said slowly, “if God put them on Jesus, and He bore them, I can’t bear them too.”
“No, dear,” I answered, “but let us look at it like this: God hated sin. He could not look upon it, and must punish it, but the Lord Jesus loved little Emily, and bore her sins and her punishment instead of her, upon the cross.”
She looked up so brightly, and said, “Is that what trust, or believe means? Then I do trust, and will give Him my heart now, and try to be good.”
“But you must leave off trying to be good, and only believe or trust the Lord, and He will give you power to be good, after you have truly trusted Him,” She waited a moment before speaking, and then said, is that really all? I do trust Him now.”
I think little Emily, then and there, really put her trust in the Lord Jesus, her Saviour. To you, dear children, who feel your need of a Saviour, I would say, come to Him, as Emily did, in all your sins, for He will save you. Take your place before God as a sinner, and ask him to show you the Lord Jesus on the cross bearing our sins.
The Lord Jesus shed His precious blood for sinners, and all who put their trust in Him, have their sills washed away, and are made whiter than snow.
ML 07/17/1938