Mr. Spurgeon, in the course of a sermon, once suggested that every one of his hearers when they got home should write a truthful description of himself, in the fest possible words, thus:
“Thomas Jones, lost,” or “Henry Williams, saved.”
“If you see it in writing, it may startle and impress you,” he said.
A Christian lady who was present determined to act upon his advice.
When she and her family were seated around the table in their home, she had pen and ink and note paper, and said: “I want to tell you what Mr. Spurgeon said in his sermon today.”
The father, who was reading his Sunday newspaper, looked up for a little to watch the preparations, but when he heard Mr. Spurgeon’s name mentioned, he went on reading.
“Mr. Spurgeon asked us all,” continued his wife bravely, although with a beating heart, “to write our names on a sheet of paper, and to put ‘saved’ or ‘lost’ after them, and to be quite truthful about it.”
Mr. Mitchell got hold of the poker and, with a good deal of unnecessary noise, banged the coals about in the grate.
Meanwhile his wife was writing. She wrote at the top of the page: “Sarah Mitchell, saved.”
It was now Harry’s turn.
Mother was anxious about Harry. She longed that he might be a Christian, but she did not know whether he had taken the step. How her heart beat when he took up the pen.
When with a steady hand and without a moment’s hesitation, he wrote: “Harry Mitchell, saved.” her joy threatened to overcome her. The good woman wiped her eyes, and looked as only a mother can look at her eldest son who had thus boldly taken his stand on the side of the Lord.
Baby, as they called the youngest, had learned to love Jesus at the Sunday school. She could make capital letters, and wanted to add her name. Some of the letters were large and some small, and she made a blot on the paper, but when it was handed to the mother she read: “Alice Mitchell, saved.”
That was the whole family except Father, who was reading his paper.
George Mitchell was at least an honest man, and a kind father. The children were not in the least afraid of him, even when he somewhat gruffly said: “Pass me over the paper.”
“Hand me the pen, Harry,” he added a moment later. “It’s all trash; but I may as well join in the game.” So he wrote under the names: “George Mitchell, L——”
Before he could add another leer to that “L” his wife seized his arm and cried out: “George, you shall never write that.”
Then the children all joined in, shouting out: “No, no, dear Father, you must not write that; you shall not write that!”
Father tried in a good-humored way to shake himself free. He tried to laugh in a nervous, forced way at the whole thing; but as they all stood and cried and pleaded, he broke down and fell on his knees beside his wife and children, confessing his sins, and accepted the Lord Jesus as his Saviour, and was able to write: “George Mitchell, saved.”
Now what a happy family — all loving the Saviour, and on the way to heaven!
Reader, what would you have to write, “lost” or “saved”?
ML 09/10/1961