III.
Blane ran into the barn. There, he examined the wagon. It was rickety and would not stand up to hard driving. In his frustration with the poor condition of the wagon, he suddenly remembered something: something that quickly turned his frustration into fear.
During Blane’s last visit to Abilene, Doc Minnick had mentioned a trip back to his boyhood home in Iowa. A quick calculation told Blane the doctor would not return for another week!
Blane stopped cold. His shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground. All hope for the boy to receive help in Abilene had vanished.
Blane stood motionless for several moments. Instinctively, he had known all along that hard travel for the boy was too risky. Silently, he scolded himself. His own panic nearly caused what probably would have been a fatal mistake.
Blane also knew that panic signifies doubt. Being honest, he admitted he had recently neglected to nurture his faith. He had spent too many hours performing administrative duties and not enough time in study and prayer. Now, in a crisis, his faith was weak.
He felt ashamed. He recalled handing a Bible to Zeke, the storekeeper. Yet, he had neglected his own faith for too long. He felt vulnerable and afraid. He wanted to run but knew no way to escape.
He knelt to the ground. Sorrow filled him through and through. He asked God to forgive him. Then he asked for God, through Jesus Christ, to strengthen his faith.
At that moment, he heard the barn door open and he looked up.
The woman was soaked with rain. Rivulets of water fell to the ground from the hem of her dress. She stood, looking at him, but did not speak.
Blane slowly got to his feet. His chest felt heavy as he drew in a deep breath. “The leg has to come off,” he said.
The woman closed her eyes and swallowed hard. In a broken voice, she asked, “What can I do to help?”
Her courage almost made him cry.
After a moment, she asked, “Then, will my son live?”
“Ma’am, we must do all that is in our power to do. God is with us this very instant. In His Word, He promised to never leave us. Let us know He will do what’s right.”
“I’ll boil some water.”
“Yes, boil lots of water. Also, we’ll need a sharp knife and a.…” His voice trailed off.
“A what?” she asked.
He was reluctant to say the word aloud. “A saw.”
The woman cupped her face with her hands and wept. Finally, she raised her arm and pointed. “It’s over against the wall.”
Blane nodded. Then he approached the Black and gave him a few pats on the chest. “Easy, boy.” He grabbed the saddle and swung it up onto the horse’s back.
Surprised, the woman asked, “Where are you going?”
“Listen carefully. Here’s what I want you to do. Take your husband and your little girl. Scrub the boy’s room with soap and water from top to bottom. Make the water as hot as you can stand it. Then place the knife and the saw into boiling water and let them soak. We’ll also need good whiskey if you’ve got it.”
Blane quickly led the Black out of the barn. The rain was pouring! He swung up into the saddle in one easy motion. Pulling his hat down tight on his head, he yelled, “Get busy! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
With spurs to flesh, the Black bolted into his fastest run, mud slinging from his hooves.
IV.
Blane let the horse have his head. Exhilarated by hard exercise, the Black liked to run. After a quarter mile, Blane reigned in. The Black slowed to a fast trot. Just ahead, a thick row of trees bordered a creek.
The rain fell in a steady stream of plump, heavy drops. The air was cool and calm. To the south and west, a ribbon of gold light accented the edge of the clouds. Beyond that, Blane could see blue sky.
Reaching the stand of trees, Blane swung down from the saddle. Through the mud, he walked to a massive tree with thick, striped bark running from top to bottom. With his knife, he stripped off a generous amount of bark.
When he picked up the pile, he remembered his saddlebags. He had left them in the farmer’s house. He quickly stripped down to his bare chest. He placed the bark into his undershirt and tied it up. Then he donned his shirt, vest and slicker, again.
Swinging up onto the Black, he trotted the animal further into the stand of trees. After a time, he dismounted. He walked to a tree with leaves that resembled a person’s hand with the fingers spread. Again, he collected a generous amount of bark. Then he added it to the undershirt and tied the edges.
Through all the activities, Blane was aware of time. He worked thoroughly, but quickly. Continuously, he prayed: for God to strengthen the boy’s family; for God to help the boy; for God to receive glory through the trial before them all.
Mounting the Black, he pivoted the horse and gave two quick jabs with his spurs. “Let’s go, boy!”
For the first few moments, Blane leaned well forward. It was good to hold on tight when the Black was at full speed.
Blane mentally reviewed what he knew about the medical procedure he planned to perform. It was important that he remember what he had learned during his time as a field medic in the Union Army.
Although the war had ended seven years ago, the sights, sounds and smells of the conflict were as vivid now as they had been when they happened.
As a young man who joined the Army at sixteen, Blane had grown up in a hurry. As a medic, he had seen enough death and dying for the lifetimes of a dozen men. Ironically, his caring for and transporting the wounded probably saved his life. Had he been a fighting soldier, he figured he would have been killed alongside the 620,000 who died in the war.
Mostly, he had driven an ambulance wagon. He had grown to hate entering hospital tents whenever they were erected. The smell of death and disease hung in the stagnant air, like thick fog in a musty swamp.
Whenever he was not driving the team of horses that pulled the wagon, he assisted the doctors in various ways. Although he had never performed an amputation, he had seen it done countless times. The piles of amputated limbs sometimes grew so large they had to be removed by the wagon load.
When the war ended, Blane settled in St. Louis. He secured a job at a hospital where he met Sarah. They fell in love and were married. He had always wanted a family.
When Sarah told Blane she was pregnant, he kissed her and held her tightly. But Sarah’s pregnancy grew increasingly difficult. When she gave birth, the baby was stillborn. Sarah, herself, had grown deathly ill. Within hours after the birth, she died in Blane’s arms.
The impact of Sarah’s and the baby’s death was devastating. Blane was only able to relieve the pain of his loss through a bottle. His alcoholism almost killed him on several occasions, yet he did not care.
Within a short time, the hospital had fired him and he had squandered all his savings on booze. He began living in the streets, begging for money to buy liquor. Finally, his time had run out. He lay in the gutter, dying. And there, his life would have ended had it not been for a preacher, Reverend Henry Talbot, who happened by.
Talbot was moved with compassion when he saw the dying drunk. “Hey, fella, can you get to your feet?”
When Blane did not respond, Talbot picked him up and slung him over his shoulder. He carried Blane to his living quarters in back of the church. When the doctor arrived, he recognized the man lying before him. “Reverend,” the doctor said, “this man is worthless. I’ve treated him several times, but he continues to drink himself to death.”
Blane, in and out of consciousness, heard Talbot’s reply. “Doctor, it is just for such a sinner that Christ died on the cross. Now, you do all you can for him!”
That night was the turning point for Blane. That night he began his recovery. And that night he set foot on the path to a life of service to his Redeemer.
V.
When Blane arrived back at the cabin, the preparations had been made. The boy’s room had been scrubbed clean from top to bottom. Two kettles of boiling water hung over the fireplace. One kettle contained the knife and the saw. The other contained water for sterilizing dressings and for washing. Additionally, smaller, empty kettles sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. A full bottle of whiskey sat on the mantle.
Along with his undershirt filled with bark, Blane had brought in a length of strong rope. During the War of the Rebellion, he had watched doctors use chloroform or ether to anesthetize patients. Without such chemicals, the boy would have to be tied down tightly.
The man, woman and little girl were sitting at the table. Blane took the fourth seat, silently acknowledging that it was where the boy normally sat before the accident.
Blane noticed their faces. The little girl remained silent, but looked with confusion from one adult to the next. She could hardly be aware of what was about to happen. The woman’s face was drawn with sorrow.
When his gaze met the man’s, Blane said, “I’m going to ask you to come in and help me. I think it’s best that your wife and daughter go to the barn until we’re done.”
The man looked at his wife who had turned to face him. The man nodded slowly. “You’ll have to see to Amie.”
All right,” the woman said.
Without another word, Blane folded his hands and bowed his head. The others did likewise. “Heavenly Father, we are deeply sorry for our sins. We ask for and we humbly receive your forgiveness. Help us now, dear Lord, in our time of need. From your Word, we know all things work together for good to them that love God. We proclaim our love for you now and always. Thank you for your endless mercies, for your goodness, and for your grace. We trust in You, Father, for the right outcome. In the precious name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
Blane drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Then he stood from the chair. The woman took Amie by the hand and led her out the door.
Blane turned to the man. “I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Claude, and my boy’s name is Andrew.”
“This isn’t going to be easy, Claude. Will I be able to count on you when the going gets tough?”
“Parson, my wife explained to me what you plan to do. She said it is the only way our son will live. Are you sure about all of this?”
“That’s a fair question, Claude. The answer is I only know one thing for sure. If your son stays as he is, he will die, and die quickly.”
“But taking his leg. Are you sure it’s necessary?”
Blane nodded solemnly. Then he said, “I’m sorry, Claude.”
“Parson, if you do this, can you guarantee my boy will live?”
“No, I can’t. The truth is I saw many men in the war that had legs amputated, and they still died. Blood poisoning is what killed them. Once we take the leg, the real battle will be against the infection.”
Claude was silent for a long moment. Then he looked up. “I want what’s best for my son.”
“Claude, I know this is hard. Can I count on you to remain strong?”
“Yes, Parson, you can count on me.”
VI.
Blane poured some boiling water into one of the empty kettles that sat on the floor. Then he placed the bark into the water. Into the next kettle, he poured boiling water and put in a few wash cloths that the woman had left. Into a third kettle, he poured boiling water and put in the rope.
Then the two men painstakingly washed their hands with soap and extremely hot water.
When Blane pulled the rope from the kettle, he asked, “Will you do this, or do you want me to do it?”
With resignation, the man said, “I’ll do it.”
Blane removed the knife and the saw from the kettle. “Okay, Claude, let’s get started.”
TO BE CONTINUED
COMMENT on FAITH (Part 2)
Faith in Christ affords peace of mind, because faith is the antidote to the burden of guilt instinctively felt by sinners. Faith in Christ also affords comfort to the soul, because faith is the vessel that holds God’s promise of eternity in heaven.
Importantly, faith in Christ, according to Ephesians 6:16, is a shield that protects one from life’s “flaming arrows.”
When an individual faces a crisis, upon whom or what does he rely to help meet the challenge? Those who do not possess saving faith must rely on personal resources, such as character, money and influence. Adverse circumstances, however, pose danger when they require something greater than human resources.
When a beloved child is near death, for example, what personal powers can a mother and father employ to save their child? Knowing that, had it been possible, they would have sacrificed themselves for the life of their child, upon whom do they call when the child dies?
In a crisis, we may recognize that life is bigger than any of us; bigger, in fact, than all of us. With that realization, would we trade all of our personal powers for the help of God, whose power is bigger than life itself?
For those who have saving faith already, it must be nurtured.[1] Not because it is fragile, but because we are fragile. The strong in faith are better able to repel the flaming arrows of life.
In the story, a life-or-death crisis forces Blane to admit he has neglected his faith. With remorse, he asks God to forgive him and to strengthen his faith. Then, with renewed faith, Blane is no longer occupied with doubts and fears. Rather he leaps into action to do what must be done.
[1] Faith is nurtured by hearing, reading or remembering the Gospel, which is the good news that Christ died for the forgiveness of sins.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Parson Sam Blane in Faith (Part 1)
I.
Parson Sam Blane was lean and tall. By any standard he was a handsome man, but he paid little attention to his physical features.
His thick, black hair was naturally wavy, and his skin was smooth and deeply tanned. He spent many hours under the sun, riding the trails of the West, traveling from one town to the next on a somewhat regular circuit.
At each town, he would deliver a Sunday sermon. Then he normally spent another day or two, meeting with church elders and counseling members of the congregation. Then, after a day’s rest, he would purchase supplies, saddle up and ride to the next town.
Parson Blane was a man, not yet thirty years old, who was wise beyond his years. The general lawlessness of the West had taught him to be cautious, alert and as rugged as the untamed land he traveled. He was keenly aware that to spread the Gospel, he first had to survive. And the dangers were real. During his three years as an itinerant preacher, he had battled wild animals, hostile Indians and men who had no respect for the law. On the trail and even in some towns, he wore a six gun on his hip. And he knew how to use it.
“You headin’ out today?” the storekeeper asked.
“Yes, Zeke, I am,” Blane said. “By the way, when am I going to see you in church?”
“Oh, you know me, Parson. I’m not a church-going man. Never had much use for the Lord. And I figure he’s got no use for me.”
Blane remained silent for a moment. Then he said, “I think I’ll take another sack of beans. Almost ran out the last time I headed up to Abilene.”
Zeke reached under the counter and brought up a bag of beans. “Here, Preacher, I want you to try these. It’s a special brand, and I think you’re gonna like ‘em.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” Blane said, taking hold of the sack.
“You’re not gonna like ‘em?”
“I’m talking about the Lord having no use for you.” Blane smiled.
“Oh, that!”
“In fact,” Blane continued, “since you’re offering these special beans, let me offer you something special.”
Blane reached into one of his saddlebags on the counter and pulled out a Bible. “Here, I want you to have this.”
Seeing it, Zeke said, “No, I don’t think so, Parson—“
“Zeke, all you need is faith.”
“With all due respect, Parson, I don’t believe in anything I can’t see.”
“So, you don’t believe in gravity?”
Parson Sam Blane was lean and tall. By any standard he was a handsome man, but he paid little attention to his physical features.
His thick, black hair was naturally wavy, and his skin was smooth and deeply tanned. He spent many hours under the sun, riding the trails of the West, traveling from one town to the next on a somewhat regular circuit.
At each town, he would deliver a Sunday sermon. Then he normally spent another day or two, meeting with church elders and counseling members of the congregation. Then, after a day’s rest, he would purchase supplies, saddle up and ride to the next town.
Parson Blane was a man, not yet thirty years old, who was wise beyond his years. The general lawlessness of the West had taught him to be cautious, alert and as rugged as the untamed land he traveled. He was keenly aware that to spread the Gospel, he first had to survive. And the dangers were real. During his three years as an itinerant preacher, he had battled wild animals, hostile Indians and men who had no respect for the law. On the trail and even in some towns, he wore a six gun on his hip. And he knew how to use it.
“You headin’ out today?” the storekeeper asked.
“Yes, Zeke, I am,” Blane said. “By the way, when am I going to see you in church?”
“Oh, you know me, Parson. I’m not a church-going man. Never had much use for the Lord. And I figure he’s got no use for me.”
Blane remained silent for a moment. Then he said, “I think I’ll take another sack of beans. Almost ran out the last time I headed up to Abilene.”
Zeke reached under the counter and brought up a bag of beans. “Here, Preacher, I want you to try these. It’s a special brand, and I think you’re gonna like ‘em.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” Blane said, taking hold of the sack.
“You’re not gonna like ‘em?”
“I’m talking about the Lord having no use for you.” Blane smiled.
“Oh, that!”
“In fact,” Blane continued, “since you’re offering these special beans, let me offer you something special.”
Blane reached into one of his saddlebags on the counter and pulled out a Bible. “Here, I want you to have this.”
Seeing it, Zeke said, “No, I don’t think so, Parson—“
“Zeke, all you need is faith.”
“With all due respect, Parson, I don’t believe in anything I can’t see.”
“So, you don’t believe in gravity?”
“Well, yes, of course, I believe in gravity. I’m standing on the floor, ain’t I?”
“You don’t see gravity, do you?
“Well, no, but that’s different!”
“How is it different?”
“I don’t know; it just is!”
“Well, since you have faith that something you can’t see is going to keep you on the floor, why can’t you have faith that something you can’t see is going to save your soul?”
Zeke chuckled. “Parson, if you don’t beat all. You think word games can get me to believe in your Jesus Christ?”
“No,” Blane said. “But reading this Bible can.” He reached out his hand, holding the Bible for Zeke to take.
“You don’t see gravity, do you?
“Well, no, but that’s different!”
“How is it different?”
“I don’t know; it just is!”
“Well, since you have faith that something you can’t see is going to keep you on the floor, why can’t you have faith that something you can’t see is going to save your soul?”
Zeke chuckled. “Parson, if you don’t beat all. You think word games can get me to believe in your Jesus Christ?”
“No,” Blane said. “But reading this Bible can.” He reached out his hand, holding the Bible for Zeke to take.
Zeke pushed back Blane’s hand still holding the Bible.
“Alright, Zeke, can I ask you a question about these beans.”
Zeke perked up. “Yeah, they’re a special brand. Came in just yesterday.”
“So, you haven’t tried them yourself?”
“Not yet.”
“Then, how do you know these beans are special?”
“The supplier sent a flyer in the carton. The flyer told all about how the beans are grown.”
“So, you know the beans are special because the flyer said so?”
“That’s right. I also know the supplier. He always delivers quality product.”
“Okay, now let me show you something.” Blane opened the Bible to the Book of Romans, Chapter 5 and Verse 8. He tilted the open Bible so Zeke could see the page. Placing his finger on the verse, Blane read aloud: “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
Zeke looked up from the Bible.
“Zeke, you ever had anyone other than Christ love you so much that he died for you?”
“No,” Zeke said solemnly.
“Alright, Zeke, can I ask you a question about these beans.”
Zeke perked up. “Yeah, they’re a special brand. Came in just yesterday.”
“So, you haven’t tried them yourself?”
“Not yet.”
“Then, how do you know these beans are special?”
“The supplier sent a flyer in the carton. The flyer told all about how the beans are grown.”
“So, you know the beans are special because the flyer said so?”
“That’s right. I also know the supplier. He always delivers quality product.”
“Okay, now let me show you something.” Blane opened the Bible to the Book of Romans, Chapter 5 and Verse 8. He tilted the open Bible so Zeke could see the page. Placing his finger on the verse, Blane read aloud: “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”
Zeke looked up from the Bible.
“Zeke, you ever had anyone other than Christ love you so much that he died for you?”
“No,” Zeke said solemnly.
“Me neither,” Blane said. “Here, you take this Bible. It has the power to give you the faith you need to be saved from the penalty of sin.”
Blane held out the Bible, again.
Zeke hesitated.
“I know the supplier,” Blane said. “He always delivers quality product!”
Zeke eyed the Bible, but he did not take it.
Blane asked, “What do you have to lose? If it doesn’t work, then you’re right back where you are now. If it does work, then you gain the faith that saves your soul and that puts God’s love in your heart.”
After a long moment, Zeke said, “Okay, Preacher. I’ll take the Bible, and I’ll read it. But I’m still charging you for the beans!”
II.
The first day on the trail to Abilene came and went. On the morning of the second day, dark clouds rolled in, and Blane knew he was in for a storm.
The Black beneath Blane, in contrast to his normally high-spirited but controlled temperament, had grown restless. The mighty animal knew the coming storm meant thunder and lightning, and he disliked such atmospheric disturbances.
Blane, himself, was displeased by the thought of getting drenched by the inevitable downpour. So, by mid-morning, he began looking for suitable shelter. Being familiar with the trail ahead and knowing of no place to hole up, he veered from the trail and headed west.
After a time, he saw smoke rising in the distance and turned the Black in that direction. With a gentle nudge of spurs, Blane brought the animal to an easy lope.
By now, the temperature had dropped and the wind had picked up. Feeling another nudge of spurs, the horse lowered his head and broke into a smooth gallop.
The sound of the bridle, the leather saddle and the steady breathing of the horse played a familiar, rhythmic tune against the wind.
As Blane had hoped, the smoke was rising from the chimney of a cabin. Beside the wooden structure was a barn. He reached the buildings as the first thunder rumbled across the heavens. Dismounting the Black, Blane heard a man’s voice.
“Who is it?” the man yelled in a hostile tone.
Blane turned toward the window from which the man had yelled and saw a Winchester pointed at him.
“I’m Parson Blane. I’d like to stable my horse and wait out the storm. I mean you no harm.”
“You a preacher?” the man yelled.
“Yes, sir, I am. On my way to Abilene.”
Slightly softening his tone, the man said, “Okay, stable your horse and come on in.”
Blane held out the Bible, again.
Zeke hesitated.
“I know the supplier,” Blane said. “He always delivers quality product!”
Zeke eyed the Bible, but he did not take it.
Blane asked, “What do you have to lose? If it doesn’t work, then you’re right back where you are now. If it does work, then you gain the faith that saves your soul and that puts God’s love in your heart.”
After a long moment, Zeke said, “Okay, Preacher. I’ll take the Bible, and I’ll read it. But I’m still charging you for the beans!”
II.
The first day on the trail to Abilene came and went. On the morning of the second day, dark clouds rolled in, and Blane knew he was in for a storm.
The Black beneath Blane, in contrast to his normally high-spirited but controlled temperament, had grown restless. The mighty animal knew the coming storm meant thunder and lightning, and he disliked such atmospheric disturbances.
Blane, himself, was displeased by the thought of getting drenched by the inevitable downpour. So, by mid-morning, he began looking for suitable shelter. Being familiar with the trail ahead and knowing of no place to hole up, he veered from the trail and headed west.
After a time, he saw smoke rising in the distance and turned the Black in that direction. With a gentle nudge of spurs, Blane brought the animal to an easy lope.
By now, the temperature had dropped and the wind had picked up. Feeling another nudge of spurs, the horse lowered his head and broke into a smooth gallop.
The sound of the bridle, the leather saddle and the steady breathing of the horse played a familiar, rhythmic tune against the wind.
As Blane had hoped, the smoke was rising from the chimney of a cabin. Beside the wooden structure was a barn. He reached the buildings as the first thunder rumbled across the heavens. Dismounting the Black, Blane heard a man’s voice.
“Who is it?” the man yelled in a hostile tone.
Blane turned toward the window from which the man had yelled and saw a Winchester pointed at him.
“I’m Parson Blane. I’d like to stable my horse and wait out the storm. I mean you no harm.”
“You a preacher?” the man yelled.
“Yes, sir, I am. On my way to Abilene.”
Slightly softening his tone, the man said, “Okay, stable your horse and come on in.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Inside the barn, Blane heard the crack of thunder, low and close. The Black’s eyes were wide, but he stood steady. “It’s alright, boy,” Blane said in a soothing voice.
He stripped the animal of the saddle and rubbed him down. Then he picked up his saddlebags and walked to the barn door. The first drops of rain had begun to sprinkle the ground.
Blane jogged across the open area from the barn to the cabin and then he knocked on the door. When he heard the man’s voice, he opened the door and stepped inside.
The man was sitting at a table in front of the fireplace. He held the Winchester, trained directly on Blane. “First thing you do, Mister, is take off that gun belt and hang it there by the door.”
“Yes, sir,” Blane said. “Like I said, I mean you no harm.”
The man nodded, but said nothing. He continued to hold the Winchester steady.
“I’m assuming,” Blane said, “you mean me no harm either. Am I right about that?”
The man leaned back in his chair. “You’re still alive, ain’t ya?”
Inside the barn, Blane heard the crack of thunder, low and close. The Black’s eyes were wide, but he stood steady. “It’s alright, boy,” Blane said in a soothing voice.
He stripped the animal of the saddle and rubbed him down. Then he picked up his saddlebags and walked to the barn door. The first drops of rain had begun to sprinkle the ground.
Blane jogged across the open area from the barn to the cabin and then he knocked on the door. When he heard the man’s voice, he opened the door and stepped inside.
The man was sitting at a table in front of the fireplace. He held the Winchester, trained directly on Blane. “First thing you do, Mister, is take off that gun belt and hang it there by the door.”
“Yes, sir,” Blane said. “Like I said, I mean you no harm.”
The man nodded, but said nothing. He continued to hold the Winchester steady.
“I’m assuming,” Blane said, “you mean me no harm either. Am I right about that?”
The man leaned back in his chair. “You’re still alive, ain’t ya?”
As Blane hung his gun belt on a hook, he said, “Yes, sir, I’m still alive. But you have me wondering for just how long.”
“Mister,” the man said, “as long as you are who you say you are, I reckon you’ll live a lot longer than if you ain’t. Now, empty out those saddlebags on the floor and let’s take a look-see.”
Blane had noticed it the moment he had opened the door. With the threat of the rifle pointed at him, however, the significance of what he had noticed had not registered in his mind until now. It was the smell.
“Who is hurt?” Blane asked bluntly.
The man sat up. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Someone in this house is hurt. I was a medic in the war. I live with the smell of blood and bandages and worse in my dreams. Who is back in one of those rooms?”
The man lowered the Winchester. He turned his head and yelled, “It’s okay. You can come out now.”
The door to one of the back rooms opened, and a woman and a little girl appeared.
“Hello, ma’am. I’m Parson Blane,” he said, removing his hat.
“It’s my son, Parson,” the man said. “He’s laying back there with a broken leg. Fever came upon him last night. You say you know something about medicine?”
“Let me see him.”
Blane had noticed it the moment he had opened the door. With the threat of the rifle pointed at him, however, the significance of what he had noticed had not registered in his mind until now. It was the smell.
“Who is hurt?” Blane asked bluntly.
The man sat up. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“Someone in this house is hurt. I was a medic in the war. I live with the smell of blood and bandages and worse in my dreams. Who is back in one of those rooms?”
The man lowered the Winchester. He turned his head and yelled, “It’s okay. You can come out now.”
The door to one of the back rooms opened, and a woman and a little girl appeared.
“Hello, ma’am. I’m Parson Blane,” he said, removing his hat.
“It’s my son, Parson,” the man said. “He’s laying back there with a broken leg. Fever came upon him last night. You say you know something about medicine?”
“Let me see him.”
The woman led Blane to the boy, and the man followed them into the room.
One look and Blane knew the boy was in serious trouble. “How long has he been like this?”
“Pert’ near a week,” the man said.
“You know of any doctor closer than Abilene?”
“I don’t know of any doctor, at all,” the man said.
“This boy needs a doctor right now. The closest doctor I know of is in Abilene. That’s a two-day ride. If we use that wagon in the barn, it will take us three or four days. If the boy stays like this any longer, he’ll die.”
“Can’t you do anything for my son?” the woman asked.
“I have no medicine to take down the infection. This boy needs a doctor! I’m no doctor!”
Blane quickly brushed past the man and his wife. For a brief moment, he stood in the outer room looking into the tearful eyes of the little girl. Even at that tender age, she knew her brother was dying.
Blane turned and rushed out of the cabin. The clouds had broken wide open, and he felt the fury of the wind and the rain.
He knew the boy would die quickly without help. Yet, with time running out, here, in the middle of nowhere, no help was to be had.
He stood and looked up. Then he yelled, “Why, God? Why?”
TO BE CONTINUED
“Pert’ near a week,” the man said.
“You know of any doctor closer than Abilene?”
“I don’t know of any doctor, at all,” the man said.
“This boy needs a doctor right now. The closest doctor I know of is in Abilene. That’s a two-day ride. If we use that wagon in the barn, it will take us three or four days. If the boy stays like this any longer, he’ll die.”
“Can’t you do anything for my son?” the woman asked.
“I have no medicine to take down the infection. This boy needs a doctor! I’m no doctor!”
Blane quickly brushed past the man and his wife. For a brief moment, he stood in the outer room looking into the tearful eyes of the little girl. Even at that tender age, she knew her brother was dying.
Blane turned and rushed out of the cabin. The clouds had broken wide open, and he felt the fury of the wind and the rain.
He knew the boy would die quickly without help. Yet, with time running out, here, in the middle of nowhere, no help was to be had.
He stood and looked up. Then he yelled, “Why, God? Why?”
TO BE CONTINUED
* * *
COMMENT on FAITH (Part 1)
“In the Gospel God offers and gives to us the best things. There He promises grace, forgiveness, life, and salvation for Christ’s sake to lost sinners…Although all the promises of God…are the object of faith; the object of saving faith is the promise of God’s grace and forgiveness in Christ Jesus.
“A faith based on anything other than on the promise of God’s grace in Christ does not save, no matter how sincere this faith may be. Jesus Himself says: ‘He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him’ (John 3:36).”[1]
For the non-believer: “So faith comes by hearing [what is told], and what is heard comes by the preaching [of the message that came from the lips] of Christ (the Messiah Himself).” (Romans 10:17, Amplified Bible)
For the believer: “(Although)…fluctuations of faith do not affect its saving power, (f)aith in the grace of God is not of equal strength in all believers. (And) (i)t does not constantly maintain a uniform strength in the same individual.”[2]
The way for the non-believer to gain faith and the way for the believer to gain greater faith are the same; that is, through the Gospel, whether it is “read, heard, or remembered.”[3]
In Part 1 of the story, Blane is faced with the impending death of the farmer’s son. The situation is a grim challenge to the strength of Blane’s faith.
“In the Gospel God offers and gives to us the best things. There He promises grace, forgiveness, life, and salvation for Christ’s sake to lost sinners…Although all the promises of God…are the object of faith; the object of saving faith is the promise of God’s grace and forgiveness in Christ Jesus.
“A faith based on anything other than on the promise of God’s grace in Christ does not save, no matter how sincere this faith may be. Jesus Himself says: ‘He who believes in the Son has everlasting life; and he who does not believe the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him’ (John 3:36).”[1]
For the non-believer: “So faith comes by hearing [what is told], and what is heard comes by the preaching [of the message that came from the lips] of Christ (the Messiah Himself).” (Romans 10:17, Amplified Bible)
For the believer: “(Although)…fluctuations of faith do not affect its saving power, (f)aith in the grace of God is not of equal strength in all believers. (And) (i)t does not constantly maintain a uniform strength in the same individual.”[2]
The way for the non-believer to gain faith and the way for the believer to gain greater faith are the same; that is, through the Gospel, whether it is “read, heard, or remembered.”[3]
In Part 1 of the story, Blane is faced with the impending death of the farmer’s son. The situation is a grim challenge to the strength of Blane’s faith.
Our story continues in the next issue.
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