WHEN I was a boy I remember a story about a man who was traveling on horseback, across the desert north of the Rio Grande. He had lost his way and as he wandered about in the burning heat of the sun, in search of water, it seemed that both he and his horse must perish from thirst.
Most “V us do not know what thirst really is — when the throat becomes dry and hot and the lips cracked and burning, when one would give all he possessed for a drop of water to moisten the lips and cool the tongue. Throughout the day, as the sun burned down relentlessly on the dert sands, the man urged his weary horse on, still hoping to reach a stream or oasis, that their lives might be spared. Then when hope seemed almost gone, he saw what looked like trees and vegetation in the distance. Fresh hope surged within him at the sight, and he urged his faithful animal onward.
It was some time before the horse and rider reached the spot, but to his inexpressible joy and relief, he reached a ridge and there, down in a little valley below, where the grass grew long and green, he spied a little trickle of water issuing forth. It seemed to come from nowhere. It was almost too good to be true! Down on his knees, the near-perishing man lapped at the cooling stream. A long while he stayed there, his feet in a bog, until his thirst was satisfied.
Refreshed, revived, he rose to go, but alas! he had stayed too long. His feet were down in the bog and he could not pull them out. He tried pulling out one at a time, but the more he struggled, the deeper it seemed he sank in the bog. He was going down and he knew it. Terror now took possession of him. He had been spared from death from thirst, but now must he perish in the bog! Weak, worn out with struggling, he gave himself up as lost.
Then suddenly he thought of something! He remembered his horse. She was grazing nearby. “Lady!” he called. “Lady, come!” Sensing something was wrong, faithful Lady came near to the spot where her master was caught in the bog. “Come closer, Lady,” he commanded, and she moved close enough so that he could get ahold of the saddle straps. It was his last hope and grasping the straps he hung on.
“Now Lady,” he exclaimed, “pull; let’s go!” The horse seemed to understand, and during the next moments the man’s arms and legs were nearly pulled out of their sockets. Still he hung on, and seconds later the bog gave up its prey. The man collapsed on the firm ground, exhausted — but saved!
This story, it seems to me, dear young friends, pictures a sinner in two ways. Sooner or later he finds the world all around is but a weary desert, with nothing to satisfy the thirst of his soul, and if he goes on like this he will perish one day. But the Lord Jesus stands and cries, “If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink.” He is the fountain of life, and gives the living water, by which if one drinks he will live forever.
Then that man, helpless in the bog, also pictures the sinner, sunk in the mire of sin — sinking down to death and hell. If this is a picture of you, dear reader, let me tell you the truth that you cannot save yourself. But there is a Saviour and a Friend who, if you will cry to Him, will come just where you are, and lift you out of the mire. He will cleanse you from all your sins and start you on your way to heaven. Furthermore He will keep you happy and satisfied all along the way there. Prove Him! Trust Him today!
ML-04/19/1970