In Ragenbach, Germany, years ago, a large number of villagers were gathered together one afternoon in the large room of the inn. There was only one door to the room, and that stood open. The village blacksmith, a pious, good-natured and brave-hearted man, sat near the door, talking with some of his neighbors.
All at once a large dog appeared in the doorway. He was a great, powerful beast, with a fierce, frightful look. His head hung down, his eyes were bloodshot, his great red tongue hung half out of his mouth, and his tail drooped between his legs. As soon as the innkeeper saw him he turned pale, and cried out, "Mercy on us, the dog is mad!" The women screamed, and there was great confusion in the room. There was no way out but by the door in which the dog stood, and no one could pass him without being bitten.
"Stand back, my friends," cried the brave smith, "till I seize the dog; then hurry out while I hold him. Better for one to perish than for all."
So saying, he seized the foaming beast with an iron grasp and dashed him on the floor. Then a terrible struggle followed. The dog bit furiously on every side, in a most frightful manner. His long teeth tore the arms and thighs of the heroic smith, but he would not let go his hold. Unmindful of the pain, and the horrible death which he knew must follow, with the grasp of a giant he held down the snapping, biting, howling brute, till all his friends had escaped in safety. Then he flung the half-strangled beast from him against the wall, and dripping with blood and venomous foam, he left the room and locked the door.
The dog was shot through the window; but what was to become of the brave but unfortunate smith?
The friends whose lives he had saved at the expense of his own stood round him weeping.
"Be quiet, my friends," he said. "Don't weep for me; when I am dead, think of me with love; and now pray for me that God will not let me suffer long, or too much. I know I shall become mad, but I will take care that no harm comes to you through me."
Then he went to his shop and took a strong chain. One end of it he riveted with his own hands around his body; the other end he fastened round the anvil so strongly that no one could loose it. Then he looked around on his friends, and said,
"Now it's done. You are all safe. I can't hurt you. Bring me food while I am well, and keep out of my reach when I am mad. The rest I leave with God."
Perhaps if the brave smith had lived in our day, the doctors with modern drugs and shots could have saved his life; but nothing could be done for him then. Soon madness seized him, and after nine days of terrible sufferings he died.
What a noble fellow! What a hero he was — one who was willing to suffer terrible agonies and give up his life in order that his friends might be spared!
The blacksmith's love for his friends was wonderful; but far more wonderful was the love of the Lord Jesus, for He died for His enemies as well. That is just what we are by nature. We read in Colossians 1:21,21And you, that were sometime alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now hath he reconciled (Colossians 1:21) "And you, that were sometime alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works." "Yet now hath He reconciled." That is what God can now say of those who have come to Him confessing their sins, and have had them all washed away in the blood of Jesus.
The blacksmith suffered terrible agonies, but no man has ever suffered like the Lord Jesus did when alone upon the cross He was making atonement for sin. His sufferings were infinite.
And then to think of Him, in the midst of His sufferings, praying for His enemies: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." Such is the love of the Saviour that still goes out to you, unsaved friend. God will still forgive your sins if you will take Him as your Saviour and Lord.
Messages of the Love of God 11/30/1958