My brother Charlie and I were playing in the garden one bright afternoon. Bees and butterflies were flitting among the flowers, and we were so occupied with our game that we did not observe them, until a large bee lighted on Charlie’s neck and stung him. I ran and hid myself under a tree lest the bee which was still buzzing about, might sting me also, but my mother came out and told me that I need not fear that bee anymore, it had left its sting in Charlie, and could not harm anyone now.
I think this is a very simple illustration of what death is to the believer in Christ. “The sting of death is sin,” but that sting was borne by Jesus, when He died upon the Cross, and now death has no sting for me.
ML 02/08/1942