A young boy was once asked how long he had known his Saviour, and if he was sure that all his sins were forgiven. “Oh, yes,” he replied, “I know that they are all forgiven; I am quite sure of that.”
“When did you first know and understand that?” asked his friend.
“When the bee stung Mother,” said the boy quickly.
“When the bee stung Mother! Tell me what you mean, my boy.”
“Sir,” said the boy, “I have a mother, who had for some years told me what Jesus had done for me. But I never really understood nor realized how He had taken my place, and died in my stead, until one summer afternoon, when playing at the door of our cottage. Mother was ironing in the kitchen, at the door, with her sleeves rolled up. Suddenly, while I was playing around the doorstep, a large and apparently much excited bee, came buzzing round and round my head. It, no doubt, had been hurt, and seemed determined to sting. I was frightened and tried once or twice to drive it away with my handkerchief; but round and round my head it came, closer each time. At last, in despair, I ran inside to get away from my enemy, and hastened to my mother, who had been watching my unwise efforts to free myself from it, and with a cry I hid myself under her long, white apron.
Amused at my fear, but with motherly care, she put her iron down, and with a smile, put her arms outside, as it were to assure me that I had full protection.
This was hardly done, before the bee settled upon one of her arms, and before she realized that it was not wise to let the angry little insect upon her, the bee had stung her so deeply that the poor thing was unable to draw out its sting, and in an exhausted state crawled slowly down her arm.
My mother, who felt the sting sharply, was looking at the bee crawling down her arm. A thought came to her, which was the means of my salvation. She said to me, ‘There, you may come out now; the bee has stung Mother instead of you; come out, and look at it crawling on Mother’s arm. It cannot hurt you now.’
Timidly I lifted the apron, and put my head out to see. There was the bee still crawling down my mother’s arm; and she, pointing to the sting higher up, said, ‘There it is; it has stung Mother instead of you.’
Half afraid and a little sorrowful for my mother, I looked at the sting. My mother then went on to explain to me how I might play with the bee now, and even take it in my hand, as it could not sting twice, and therefore could not sting me now.
She well applied the lesson, explaining to me how it was a picture of what she had for a long time been telling me, about Jesus having taken my place, and was punished in my stead.
I had learned and often repeated that verse, ‘By His stripes we are healed,’ but I never understood till then, with the bee and the sting before us, that it was just a picture of what Jesus had permitted to be done to Himself—to be punished instead of us, who deserved to be punished; and if we believe that He has taken our place and been punished in our stead, we shall not be punished. Yes; and how true are these three short lines—
‘Payment God will not twice demand;
First at my bleeding Surety’s hand,
And then again at mine.’
That amount of realization! I shall never forget it. It was all so clear now. I saw and understood for the first time what Mother had often taught me—that God would not punish me, because He had already punished Jesus in my stead. Yes, sir, it was when the bee stung Mother. I have rejoiced from that moment in believing and being assured that Jesus died for me on Calvary.”
ML 04/01/1900