I'm Too Bad for Jesus.

 •  3 min. read  •  grade level: 8
 
SUCH were the words which fell from the lips of a young woman at the close of a solemn gospel address delivered at H—Room, in the North of London, one Sunday evening in the month of March, 1878. The word preached that night had been in much power and in the demonstration of God's Spirit, as was evidenced by not a few anxious souls who were remaining, to a prayer meeting.
Rose L—(for such was her name), was hurriedly leaving the room, her eyes bathed in tears, when the preacher, as she was passing out, quietly asked her whether she could not stay to the prayer meeting.
“No," was the weeping girl's reply, "I cannot stay to-night, as I might lose my situation if I do.”
“Better that, dear friend," said the preacher, "than to lose your soul.”
“Oh, but I'm too bad for Jesus; He would not have a sinner like me," was the quick response, as the anxious girl burst into a fresh flood of tears.
“Nay," replied the preacher, "you are just the one He wants, for it was sinners like you that Jesus died to save”
“Stay just a moment," he continued; and, opening his Bible as he spoke, he pointed the poor troubled girl to the closing words of verse 24, of Isaiah 43.—"Thou hast wearied me with thine iniquities.”
“Do not those words describe your state and condition?" said he.
“Indeed, they do," replied the broken-hearted girl, "and well I know I'm too bad for Jesus.”
“Read the next verse," said the preacher; and, drying her eyes, poor Rose read those golden words of love and mercy, "I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.”
“That," said the preacher, "is God's gracious and wondrous answer to all those who, like you, have wearied Him with their sins and iniquities. Divine love fills His heart, love that spared not His own dear Son to die for you; and if you really and truly know in your heart how evil you are, you can put your own name into that verse, and you will most surely get the blessing God loves to give, by simply believing what God says.”
Acting on the preacher's suggestion, Rose at once read the precious promise thus: "I, even I, am he that blotteth out [Rose L—'s] transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember [Rose L—'s] sins.”
Light from the glory fell into that troubled heart, for God's Spirit was working mightily, and the good seed took deep root in soul and conscience. The burden fell from Rose's heart; and shortly after, she left the room filled with joy and peace in believing.
Eighteen months rolled away, and grave tidings came by post one morning from what, alas, proved to be Rose's death-bed. Though suffering greatly in body, dear Rose had not forgotten that happy Sunday night when God spoke peace to her wounded soul, for she had taken Him at His word, and all was settled for time and for eternity.
Up to the very end) the dying girl bore the sweetest testimony to the saving grace of Him who had not only blotted out all her transgressions, but had pledged His word that He would never remember her sins. Her joy was boundless; and her ransomed spirit passed away on September 29th 1879, while singing the precious words of that well known hymn,
“High in the Father's house above,
My mansion is prepared;
There is the home, the rest I love,
And there my bright reward.”
S. T.