A TRUE STORY
APREACHER once stood in the open air in a large city telling the story of God’s love to perishing sinners. At first the large crowd listened attentively, but by degrees the firstcomers went their way, and then others came who showed only too plainly that they had not come to hear, but to oppose. They began to interrupt the preacher with loud, rough remarks, and then as he continued his words of invitation to lost sinners, their rage overcame them, and one hurled a stone at him. Then there was a general onslaught upon the defenseless man.
It was but a short struggle. One powerful man struck him to the ground, where he lay, to all appearances, dead. Then came a solemn pause. The mob, awe-struck by what had happened, looked with fear at the still figure on the ground. Turning to the man who had dealt the blow, one of them remarked, “I say, there’ll be hanging for this!”
The criminal cast a terrified glance around, and then fled for his life. On, on he rushed, down through back alleys and byways of the great town. It was late in the day, and darkness was coming on, so, assuring himself that no one would recognize him as he hurried past, he at last disappeared into a wretched court he called home. Up the back stairs he crept and at last stood guiltily inside the door of his own room. Jimmie, his little boy, was the only occupant.
“What’s the matter, Daddy?” he asked, timidly.
“You don’t need to know,” his father replied roughly; and then, his courage failing, he added nervously, “I must hide, Jimmie! Where can I go?”
Jimmy looked around the room terrified, and finally fixed his eyes on the bed in the corner. Threatening his child if he made known his whereabouts, the father crept under the bed as his only place of hiding.
Night came on. The words, “There’ll be hanging for this!” rang in the ears of the almost distracted man. Hanging meant death, and death was a terrible thing. It meant the end of life, the end of everything. But was it the end of everything? Something told him that it was not. Something whispered back the well-nigh forgotten words, “After death the judgment.” The preacher had just been telling them the way of escape from that judgment. Why had he not listened?
The morning dawned and found him still hiding under the bed. He did not dare to venture out, and as the weary hours passed he sent his little boy to fetch him some snuff, to help the dreadful time pass more quickly. It so happened that the old lady that kept the shop wrapped up little packages in pages torn from an old Bible laying on her counter. Jimmie returned from his errand with the snuff wrapped in one of the sacred pages. Something to read was welcome to break the monotony of the man’s concealment, so he turned gladly to read the page before him. It was the 9th of Hebrews, and as he read slowly down he stopped suddenly at verse 22: “Without shedding of blood is no remission:” What did that mean? he thought. Didn’t God also say that he must die? Was there no forgiveness for him even from God? He had forfeited his life to man, he knew; but had his sins forfeited his life to God? Those were dreadful hours. At last he could bear it no longer, and sent Jimmie once more to the shop for more snuff, hoping to receive another leaf from the Book which might tell him more.
Meanwhile, other customers had come and gone. The old woman was still tearing pages from the Bible. This time the snuff was folded up in 1St John 1, and the words of verse 7 met the guilty man’s eye: “The blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.” What a message from God to his sin-burdened soul! Blood had been shed for his sin — not his blood — the blood of God’s own Son. God must be satisfied, or He would not have sent such a message.
But why did He give His only Son to die? He remembered hearing, “God is love,” and how that God loved the sinner, though He hates sin. But how much of his sin did the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ cleanse away? The words said “all sin.” Not, surely not, the sin of last night? Yes; the words were, “all sin,” — past, present, future, all alike. It was “the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanseth us from all sin.” And in those words the man who was hiding from human justice found a refuge from divine justice, and rejoiced in the blood that was shed for him.
Time passed on. One day the news reached him that the preacher whom they had left for dead had not been killed, as they supposed, but had recovered, and was preaching again. With courage which only grace alone could give, the man went to hear him and confessed all to him. He was welcomed and readily forgiven.
The preacher continued to tell out the glad tidings for the rest of his days. The man, now a Christian, also was much used of God to witness to many of the grace that had saved him, amid bitter persecution from those who were formerly his associates in sin.
“When we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His Son.” Rom. 5: 10.
Most boys and girls like to have a pet. Steve loves his cuddly little black kitten, whom he calls Nero. Carol likes him too. Nero is a spunky little fellow and loves to play.
The Lord Jesus loves all the little creatures He has made and He wants us to be kind to them. When we know and love Him as our Saviour we want to be like Him and to please Him in all our ways.
ML-05/10/1970