In a certain farm there was a favorite sheep dog who had guarded the sheep on the hills for years. And Phil—for this was the sheep dog’s name—was the children’s guide and conductor to and from the country schoolhouse to which they went, along three miles of rough and rugged roads, not too clean, and in winter time often unpassable for young footsteps to tread. And there had been some ugly stories told during that winter, of scholars on that bleak and lone road, being frightened and attacked by thieves bent on mischief, if not robbery. But none of Phil’s proteges ever shared these dangers, for the faittful sheep dog would have dared any to touch those under his care.
But there came a day when the laws of that part claimed that all who kept a dog—even a sheep dog—should pay a license to the Government each year for him, or, if they failed to do so, the dog was liable to be shot at sight. This was hard lines on many a small farmer and shepherd, whose livelihood was largely dependent on the services of his faithful sheep dog.
On one winter’s day, the small farmers of that hill region were thrown into a state of excitement by the unwelcome news that a man, said to be a Collector of Taxes, was raiding the cottages and small farm houses in that part, to collect the revenue of the dog’s tax, or, as it was reported, to capture the dogs themselves to destroy them.
When the children of this farm house heard of this, they hastened to hide Phil from his would-be captors. And one of the boys had him locked up in an old barn near the house. But this became known by some means, and the Tax Collector was seen in the neighborhood of the farm house in search of the favorite sheep dog. The younger girl of the family, thinking she would shield Phil from danger, quietly led him outside the farm yard, away to the shelter of some trees, where she considered he would be immune from seizure. But it was not long ere a stranger appeared on the farm, with a rope in his hand to lead away the dog. In the dark corner of the yard, with the arms of Marjory locked around his neck, the Tax Collector found the pair. Holding up his lantern, he asked, “What are you doing with the dog, lassie, there?” Promptly came the answer,
“Hiding him from the dog man.” At this the Collector laughed, and said, “You need not bother, I am the dog man.”
The fact was that her older brother, who had come home from a far-off land, with lots of money in his purse, had met the tax man on the way to the farm, found out what his demands for Phil were, paid them on the spot, and had the taxman’s receipt in his pocket. The taxman told the trembling child this, and Phil was honorably released, the charge against him having been firstly met by Another. Then the sheep dog was released and led back in triumph to the farm house, where no one need hide him, and none molest him now, for he had been righteously set free, by the grace of another, who met all legal claims against him.
This simple story of olden times serves to illustrate how a sinner is set free from law and its claims, through what Another has paid for him, and how the believing sinner is set free from fear of legal claims, or just judent, by the One who, by His Death on the Cross, paid the debt and bore the curse to set the believing sinner free.
ML 12/19/1943