(Continued.)
She turned in her ire towards the innocent cause of it all—the three-legged stool. And her fury increased as she looked at it; sitting there so provokingly quiet, as if regarding her maliciously, and silently acquiescing in the words just uttered. “Aha, mistress! there is a greater likeness between us than you imagined; you condemned me to the fire, did you? But you didn’t think you included yourself in that sentence.”
She trembled with passion, and spurned it with her foot. SHE wouldn’t stay there to be laughed at by a STOOL.
Mark how the Spirit of God was striving with this poor old soul; how the unclean spirit was tearing her; and how the real depravity of her heart was manifesting itself, in this final hour of thralldom in the bonds of Satan. He did not care to let so diligent a devotee escape easily.
Does the reader know anything of experience such as this? Passing—”FROM DEATH—UNTO LIFE.”
She could stand its silent preaching no longer; she must have some vent for her indignation. There was a Mrs.——living next door, a truly humble, converted Christian woman; and one who was ever ready to sympathize with, and help the troubled. In to her ran Betty crying like a spoilt child that has been robbed of its plaything. She told of her visitor. “HE calls himself a GENTLEMAN, and a friend of the parson’s! Like enough the parson didn’t know what sort he was a comin’ down there, and callin’ of her all kinds of bad things. And Mrs.——-knew what a good woman she’d been, all’us attendin’ church reg’lar and a doin’ of the best SHE could to get to heaven, like a proper Christian. For HIM to go for to say as how she was ‘NO BETTER NOR AN’ OLD THREE-LEGGED STOOL.’ Oh dear! oh dear! she’d had such a turn; she didn’t know how she’d get over it.”
Her neighbor just let her run on; listening kindly and patiently to the oft-repeated and, by this time, well-known history of poor Betty’s wonderful well-doing, praying unceasingly that indeed the Spirit of God would use this unto ward event to show her the end of herself and her own righteousness.
She sat by her neighbor’s fire until late; afraid to confront the three-legged stool: though not allowing to herself that this was her reason for stopping.
When she went in, she hurriedly lit her candle, and went upstairs, without per mitting herself to glance in the direction of the stool. Poor thing! she was quite worn with the worry of her mind. But she would “say her prayers still, and she wasn’t agoin’ to be afraid of no stool.” Repeating this aloud, as if to let the stool hear it, and be confounded.
If she hoped that going to bed would put the stool out of her mind, she was greatly mistaken; for, present to her in the light, it was still there in the dark. She shut her eyes tightly, and drew the clothes over her head; yet, standing by her bedside, she seemed to see the stool, looking solemnly down upon her, and saying, “Ah! mistress, our end will be the same, for, after all, we are only fit for the fire.”
She was subdued at last. And cowed and fearful, she lay there, her conscience gaining courage to accuse, as she trembled the more. It was to her as though the stool were speaking. She thought it said, “What about all those prayers and works, and reading good books, and church-going, and looking down on other folks, as you’ve been so fond of doing’ Don’t you see, you’ve been all wrong the whole time? You have just been acting the part of a hypocrite; and you have no TRUE hope of heaven.”
Then, as she lay quaking, it became quite indignant, and said, “Don’t you see, you have been too proud to own yourself a lost sinner? It will just serve you right to come to my end, for has not God’s way of salvation—simple faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,-been spurned and neglected, while you have hugged yourself comfortably to sleep in your own goodness—oh, fie upon you!”
She began to weep, and bitter, bitter tears, true tears of sorrow and remorse, now filled her eyes. Her loud sobs and cries for mercy aroused her neighbor from next door, who ran in to see what was the matter. “Matter! oh; matter enough, neighbor. What a wicked sin ner I be! And I never to have seen it—never. A thinkin’ I was so good and religious, me that has been so full of pride. And all the time turnin’ my back on Christ, and thinkin’ I didn’t need to be converted, that was so good. Who would have thought it was to be all along of that old stool, a stout-hearted, self-righteous sinner like me, was to be broke down! Oh, neighbor, tell me, is there mercy for me?”
“There is mercy for you, in the same way as there is for every poor sinner—bless His holy name! For ‘Christ Jesus came in to the world to save sinners. Directly you take the place of the sinner, THEN is the Saviour yours.”
Sitting up in her bed, she drank in the words her neighbor spoke; and then and there, sinner as she was, she believed on the Lord Jesus Christ, and was saved.
We need no word of application, the simple story is one in itself. The reader religious, without Christ, sees himself or herself in the old woman: and listens to their conscience and the strivings of the Spirit of God, in the three-legged stool. May the sequel be theirs also, else must they certainly discover, when alas! too late, that they are “ONLY FIT FOR THE FIRE.”
Early the next morning Betty wended her way to the vicarage, and told her rejoicing hearers how the Lord had had mercy on the old hypocrite.
Messages of God’s Love 9/1/1907