A young boy was once asked how long he had known the Lord as his Saviour, and if he knew that all his sins were forgiven.
“O, yes,” he replied; “I know that they are all forgiven; I am sure of that.”
“When did you first come to know and understand that?” he was asked again.
“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 for some years told me what Jesus had done for me; but I never really understood and realized how He had taken my place, and died in my stead, until one summer’s 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 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 flap 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 rid of it, and made for my mother, who had been watching me try to free myself from my enemy; 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, when the bee settled upon one of her bare arms, and stung her so deeply that the poor thing was unable to draw out its sting, and, quite exhausted, it crawled down her arm.
“My mother, who felt the sting sharply, was taken aback; but looking at the bee crawling down her arm, a thought struck 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 crawling still slowly down my mother’s arm; and my mother, pointing to the sting higher up, said, ‘There it is; it has stung Mother instead of you. You may play with it now; it cannot sting again; see its sting in Mother’s arm. Poor creature, it has only one sting!’
“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 for long she had told me, about Jesus having taken my place, and been punished in my stead.
“I had learned and often repeated that verse, ‘with His stripes we are healed’ (Isa. 53:5), but I never understood until 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 how, if we claimed that He had taken our place and had been punished in our stead, we could not be punished. God having punished Him in our stead, He is powerless now to punish us.
‘Payment God will not twice demand;
First at my bleeding Surety’s hand,
And then again at mine.’
“That moment of realization! I shall never forget it. It was all so clear then. I saw and understood for the first time, what Mother had for long taught me, how that God would not punish me, because He had punished Jesus in my stead.”
“HE WAS WOUNDED FOR OUR TRANSGRESSIONS, HE WAS BRUISED FOR OUR INIQUITIES: THE CHASTISEMENT OF OUR PEACE WAS UPON HIM; AND WITH HIS STRIPES WE ARE HEALED.” Isa. 53:5.
ML 04/12/1959