MORE than a year ago I went to nurse a young woman suffering from an incurable disease. Her friends knew she would not recover, but she herself clung to life, and hoped against hope to be well again. She rebelled against the continual pain, wondering bitterly why she, who, as she expressed it, had always lived a good and upright life, should be so afflicted. I soon found she had not seen herself as she was in God’s sight, and therefore had not felt the need of a Saviour.
I sought to put before her our condition as revealed in God’s word, pointing her to the Lord Jesus, God’s beloved Son, who gave Himself a ransom for all. She told me she could not think we could really know ourselves saved, until the end. But I fancy she did not herself know what she meant by the end. The clergyman of the parish called frequently, but in spite of her mother’s entreaties that she would allow him to see her, she always refused.
As the disease increased, fear took hold of her. She wanted the Bible read, and on my assuring her the vicar was a godly man she consented to see him. About this time she received a letter from a Christian friend expressing sympathy with her in her illness, but who assured her no one but Jesus could meet her need, and begging that she would seek a refuge in Him alone.
After that she strove to be more patient; frequently spoke of God’s goodness in surrounding her with comforts; begged me to pray for her, but could not as yet simply believe what God had said, that “whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
One doctor had said that, owing to the nature of the disease, the end might be violent; so her sister and I mutually agreed to lay the matter before God, asking Him to fulfill the promise of Matt. 18:19, and grant to our poor invalid a peaceful passing away. On the morning of the day she died, she awoke from what appeared a refreshing sleep, and said that she had had a beautiful dream, and was sure now she would get better.
I spoke of the being with Christ which is far better; and then for the first time she seemed to realize that there could be no recovery for her in this world. Placing her hands together she made her first real prayer to God, confessing to Him her sinfulness, asking pardon for Jesu’s sake, and concluded by saying, “If it is Thy will, dear Lord, to take me home today, Thy will be done!” When a little later her mother began to repeat the twenty-third psalm, my patient joined with her in a clear, strong voice. She then prayed aloud for all she knew.
In her weakness she appeared to be troubled by strange faces and figures, when she suddenly exclaimed triumphantly, “It doesn’t matter—Jesus Christ!” That Name had power now to banish all fear and dread.
Early in the afternoon I arranged her pillows and begged her to rest. She said, “I think I shall be able to sleep now.” These were her last words, for she did sleep—and, still sleeping, entered into rest.
Dear reader, this may not find you on a bed of suffering; you may be in good health. But whether in health or in sickness, our condition before God is that we are “guilty” sinners, unless we have indeed fled to the refuge provided by Him. God has sent a Saviour that we might have a new life, know now the forgiveness of our sins, through faith in that wonderful work of redemption—the atoning death of our Lord Jesus Christ, who suffered for our sins, to bring us to God.
Does this not meet your need? Believe it then, and yours shall be the joy, the peace, and the rest for your soul now and forever.
A. S.