VII.
Just before the two men entered the boy’s room, Blane stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Claude asked.
Blane held up the knife and the saw. “I don’t want the boy to see these before we’ve had a chance to talk to him.”
Claude nodded.
Blane stepped to the kettle and placed the items back into the boiling water. Then he reached down to the kettle holding the bark. He withdrew a piece about six inches long and about an inch thick.
When they entered the room, the boy was in a shallow, fitful sleep. Hearing the creak of a floorboard, he opened his eyes.
“Pa,” he said.
“Son, this man is here to help you.”
The boy’s gaze shifted to Blane.
“Hello, Andrew. Is that what they call you?”
The boy winced in pain. “Andy. They call me Andy.”
“Okay, Andy, I need to look at your leg.” He handed the piece of bark to the boy. “I want you to bite on this when it hurts. It’s important that you lie still, but you may not be able to. So, your father is going to tie a rope around you to help.”
A shock of fear came to the boy’s eyes. “What are you going to do?”
Blane sat down on the bed next to the boy. “I’m going to remove the bandages and examine your leg. I can’t promise it won’t hurt. So, bite down on the bark when it does.”
With that, Claude began wrapping the rope around the boy. Andy bit down on the bark and squirmed in panic.
Blane looked the boy in the eyes. “Son, do you trust your father?”
“Yes, I trust Pa.”
“Your Pa and I are here to help you. We want you to get well. Do you know a little prayer you can say?”
“Yes, I know a prayer.”
“Okay, son. Say that prayer over and over again. Relax as much as you can. When it hurts, you can cry. Even grown men cry. But you just keep saying that prayer over and over again while I look at your leg.”
The boy closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the pillow.
The two men glanced at each other. Then Blane began peeling back the bandages.
VIII.
When the bandages on the boy’s leg were completely peeled away, Blane closely examined the wound.
The break was clean and about six inches below the knee. The skin had been punctured by the bones and was putrefied. As ugly as the wound was, Blane had seen worse.
He sat up, puzzled.
“What is it?” Claude asked.
“Did you try to reset the bones?”
“Yes I did. At the time, they felt like they were back in place. But Andy was in a lot of pain, so I only tried once.”
Blane reached up and felt the boy’s forehead. He removed his hand momentarily and then felt again. He touched the boy’s neck with his fingers and felt the pulse.
After a moment, he said, “Claude, come with me into the other room. Andy, you lie still. We’ll be back in to see you shortly.”
When the two men walked into the outer room, Blane turned to Claude. “The wound is not as bad as I thought it was. What I mean is that gangrene has not set in yet. But that is the next thing that will happen. The boy is running a fever, no question, but his pulse is strong.”
“Yeah, so what does that mean?”
“I’m not sure.”
With an edge to his voice, Claude demanded, “What do you mean you’re not sure? You told me you were sure!”
“Hold on a minute, Claude. Give me a chance to think.”
Blane sat down at the table and closed his eyes, trying to calm his mind. Momentarily, he opened his eyes and glanced at Claude who was glaring at him. “I’m going to step outside,” Blane said. “Take the boy some water. I’m sure he’s thirsty. Also, open the window and let some air into that room.”
When Blane stepped outside, the rain had stopped. He could see the back edge of the storm clouds that had moved to the east. Overhead, the sky was blue. The air smelled fresh and clean.
He sat down in a chair on the porch. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. Then he rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. “Lord, help me,” he said.
Had he made a mistake? He thought back to when he had first entered the cabin earlier in the day. Once a person whiffs the unbearable smell of gangrene, he never forgets it. And Blane had been certain he smelled it. Now, he was not so sure. Was the smell only in his memory of the war?
Then again, perhaps none of that mattered. The boy’s infection was the problem. The infection had to be stopped, otherwise the boy would die.
Blane drew in a deep breath and exhaled. He continued to breathe deeply until his jittery nerves began to relax. In the moments that followed, he sought the Lord. God was with him, and God knew what to do. Blane listened for the still small voice.
After only a few moments, a picture began to occupy his mind. Christ was sitting on his throne in his heavenly glory. He was judging all the nations, which had been gathered before him. As a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, Christ directed some people to the right, some to the left. When he had finished, Christ turned to those on his right and said, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world.” To those on his left, he said, “Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.”
When the people asked by what measure they had been judged, Christ told them that those on his right had cared for him when he was in need. Those on his left had not. The people asked, “When did we see you in need?” And he answered, “Whatever you did or did not do for the least [in the estimation of men] of my brethren, you did or did not do for me.”
The scene in Blane’s mind played twice more from beginning to end.
Without warning, his wife, Sarah, stood behind him and tenderly placed her hand on his shoulder. He felt her touch a split second before its meaning registered in his mind. When he realized what had happened, he sprang from the chair and turned. Anguish, love and fear filled his heart as he stared, wide-eyed, at the woman.
The woman was embarrassed. She began to apologize but was shocked by Blane’s expression. “What are you looking at?” she asked.
Her words snapped Blane back to reality. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, ma’am. For a moment, I thought you were someone else.”
“Who?” she asked.
Blane was silent. The woman had touched something within him that he thought he had buried.
“I startled you,” the woman said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, ma’am.”
“I got Amie to lie down and take a nap. I wanted to see if you and Claude needed anything. What’s going on?”
“I’ve examined the boy’s leg. It’s not as bad as I had imagined, but Andy’s got blood poisoning. I was praying for the Lord to show me what to do.”
The cabin door opened and Claude walked out onto the porch. “I heard voices,” he said.
“We were talking about the boy,” Blane said. “I’m sure of what to do now. We should get started right away.”
“What do you want me to do?” the woman asked.
“Go back to the barn and stay close to your daughter. Claude, you come with me.”
IX.
In the barn, Blane lay on his blanket atop a bed of straw he had gathered. His eyes were closed but he could not sleep. He felt uneasy. The Black, tied close by, lowered his head to within a few inches of his face. Hearing the animal’s breath, he opened his eyes and rubbed the horse’s nose. “It’s okay, boy.”
Blane got up and walked to a wooden bench where he sat down. The sound of Andy’s haunting screams earlier in the day filtered through his mind. Thankfully, that part of the ordeal was over.
Just then, he heard the barn door open.
“I brought you some food,” the woman said. “You haven’t eaten all day.”
“Thanks, ma’am, but I don’t feel like eating. How’s Andy doing?”
The woman placed the plate of food beside him and sat down. “Andy’s lying quietly. He’s still feverish. I had him drink some of the mixture you made with the bark. He said it tasted terrible.”
“It doesn’t taste good, but you must get him to drink as much of it as he can. Hopefully, it will help knock down the infection. Mostly, though, it’s up to Andy. Thankfully, he is young and strong.”
The two sat silently for several moments.
“Do you have everything you need to bed down for the night?” the woman asked finally.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘ma’am’ all the time. My name is Faye.”
Blane turned and looked at her. She was younger than Claude. She wore her hair up. It was long, coal black and shiny. Her face was smooth and symmetrical. Wide, bright blue eyes looked through the gold rims of her glasses. Her high cheek bones, straight jaw line and full lips made her pleasing to look at.
Blane’s gaze unconsciously fell to her hands. He remembered her tender touch on his shoulder. It had reminded him of something he had felt what seemed like so long ago.
When Blane’s silence made her feel the awkwardness of the moment, Faye said, “I’ll leave the plate. Try to eat something.”
As she cracked open the barn door, she turned and looked at him. Then she stepped out.
Blane sat quietly for a moment. The smell of fried chicken rose to his nostrils and he looked down at the plate. He picked it up and ate every bite.
Then he lay down on his bedroll and fell sound asleep.
X.
A narrow ray of sunlight shining through a crack in the wall awakened Blane to the sound of chirping birds. He sat up, alert.
When he walked outside, the fresh morning air brightened his spirit. Silently, he said a prayer of praise to the Lord.
At the water trough, he removed his hat and shirt. He pumped a generous stream of clear water and placed his entire head under the flow. Then he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. After straightening up and stretching, he put his shirt and hat back on.
He walked to the cabin door and knocked. After a moment, Faye opened the door. “Good morning,” she said. “Come in. Andy and Amie are still asleep. Claude left early to check on the crops. He usually stays away all day, but he said he would come in about noon today.”
Blane nodded. “I want to check on Andy as soon as he wakes up.”
The woman did not respond. Her silence caused him to turn and look at her.
She drew in a breath. Then she said, “I need to talk to you.”
TO BE CONTINUED
*****
COMMENT on FAITH (Part 3)
Blane’s vision was of the Last Day when Christ will sit on his heavenly throne. Everyone will be gathered before him for the Final Judgment and Christ will separate us into two groups.
It is a mistake to think God’s judgment is determined whereby “good” people are sent to heaven and “bad” people are sent to hell. By such measure none of us would go to heaven, because all of us sin.
Yet, according to Matthew 25:31-46, those sent to heaven cared for Christ’s needs (good works approved by God) and those sent to hell did not (absence of good works approved by God).
“Two things are necessary for any work to qualify as a good work before God. First, it must conform to God’s Law (we cannot sin to the glory of God [Romans 2:23-24; 6:1]). Second, [a good work] must proceed from the proper motive.”[1]
“Unbelievers can comply with the letter of the Law to some degree and bring about a civil righteousness. They may be praised by people for their generosity, moral purity, and honesty, ‘for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.’ (1 Samuel 16:7). It is the attitude of the heart that determines the ethical value of a work. The only motive recognized by God is selfless love, that is, the love of God. Such love is the fruit of faith. This is found only in believers. Jesus says, ‘He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing’ (John 15:5).”[2] [Emphasis added.] Therefore, the unconverted cannot do good works. Even so-called righteous acts by Christians are like “filthy rags” (Isaiah 64:6). “But for Christ’s sake, even these imperfect spiritual sacrifices [by Christians] are acceptable to God (1 Peter 2:5).”[3]
[1] Edward W. A. Koehler, A Summary of Christian Doctrine, Third Revised Edition, New King James Version, ed. Brent W. Kuhlman (St. Louis: Concordia Publishing House, 2006), p. 217
[2] Ibid., p. 219
[3] Ibid.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Parson Sam Blane in Faith (Part 2)
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.
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, 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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