WHEN Mr. Darby was a young man serving the Lord he was asked to go and see a poor Irish boy who was dying up in the wild hill country.
As he first entered the miserable cabin he saw no sign of life, but then an old woman, crouching bore the peat fire, rose up and courteously offered him the stool she was sitting on. He thanked her, but passing on to the corner of the room he discovered the poor suffering boy lying on a heap of straw, covered with his own ragged clothing and apparently in the last stages of tuberculosis.
On Mr. Darby’s approach he opened his eyes and stared at his visitor with a look of wonder and fright. J. N. D. told him in a quiet way why he had come and asked him a few simple questions about his hope of salvation. The boy made no reply, in fact he seemed utterly unable to grasp the meaning of his words. However, as Mr. Darby spoke to him in his kind and loving way, he uttered a few words saying he had heard something of God and future judgment, but he had never been taught to read. He knew absolutely nothing of the Scriptures nor the way of salvation as revealed in the gospel.
Mr. Darby was struck with dismay, for here was a boy with a soul, on the verge of eternity, which must be saved or lost forever. J. N. D. could see that the hand of death was close upon the lad, and not a moment was to be lost; but what could he do? How was he to begin to teach him the way of life?
Never before had Mr. Darby felt such a sinking feeling. He could do nothing, but on the other hand God could do all. So silently he prayed, beseeching God for Christ’s sake to open up a way by His Spirit to set forth the glad tidings so that the light might shine into this poor boy’s darkened soul.
The boy seemed to sense the feeling of compassion in J. N. D.'s gaze and softened toward him.
“My poor boy,” J. N. D. began, “you are very sick; I feel for you a great deal.”
“Yes, I have had a bad cold,” he said. “The cough takes away my breath and hurts me greatly.”
“How did you catch it?”
“Ah! It was about this time last year when one of the sheep went astray. When my father counted the sheep that night there was one missing and he sent me to look for it.”
“No doubt you felt the change from the warmth of the fire to the cold mountain blast.”
“Oh, that I did. There was snow on the ground and the wind pierced me through; but I didn’t mind as I was so anxious to find Father’s sheep.”
“And did you find it?” asked J. N. D. with increasing interest.
“Oh yes. I had a long weary way to go but I didn’t stop until I found it.”
“And how did you get it home? Was it willing to follow you back?”
“Well, I did not like to trust it and besides it was dead beat and tired, so I laid it on my shoulders and carried it home that way.”
“And were they not all glad to see you when you returned with the sheep?”
“Sure enough they were. Father and Mother, and the people all around came in the next morning, for the neighbors are mighty kind to each other. They were sorry to hear that I was kept out the whole dark night. It was morning before I got home, and the end of it was I caught this cold. Mother says I will never get better now, but God knows best; anyways, I did my best to save the sheep.”
“Wonderful!” thought Mr. Darby. “Here is the whole gospel story. The sheep is lost; the father sends the son to seek it and bring it back. The son goes willingly, suffers all without complaining, and in the end sacrifices his life to find the sheep. He carries it home on his shoulders and rejoices with his friends and neighbors over the sheep once lost but found again.”
J. N. D.'s prayer was answered and by the grace of God he was able to explain to the dying boy the plan of salvation, making use of his own simple story. He read to him the story of the lost sheep in Luke’s Gospel chapter 15 and the boy perceived the likeness. He followed with deep interest as J. N. D. explained to him that he himself was the lost sheep, and the Lord Jesus the Good Shepherd was sent by God the Father to seek him. The Son left all the joys of the Father’s heavenly glory to come down and search for him and other lost ones like himself. Just as the poor boy had borne the freezing snowstorm and piercing wind, so the blessed Saviour has endured the fierce contradiction of sinners against Himself, and the bitter judgment of a holy and righteous God, without uttering one word of complaint. At last He laid down His precious life that we might be rescued from perishing and brought to our everlasting home. Nor will He trust His beloved ones, when rescued, to tread the perilous path of life alone, but He bears them on His shoulders, rejoicing, to the heavenly fold.
The poor sick lad seemed to drink it in. He understood and received it all. He only lasted a few days after that, and there was no time to read or expound to him any other portion of Scripture. He coughed much and slumbered heavily at times, but whenever he was able to think and listen, the story of the lost sheep in Luke 15 satisfied and cheered him.
He accepted Christ as his Saviour, and then earnestly prayed to be carried home, like the lost sheep, in the heavenly Saviour’s arms. He passed away humbly, peacefully, rejoicing and triumphant, with the name of “Jesus, my Saviour and my Shepherd” the last words upon his lips.
“All 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.” Isa. 53.6.
ML-08/04/1974