by Jim Pappas
At this Matthew grimaced and continued to hesitate. "I . . . "
"Doctor," cried Christiana, "why does he hesitate so?"
"The poison that fills his soul makes him afraid of that which will neutralize it. But take it he must!"
"I don't feel like it!" pouted Matthew.
"You will never feel like it," answered the Doctor. "You just have to do it."
"And if I cannot?"
"Then you will die a most horrible death."
"But the bitterness!" cried the lad. "How can I endure the bitterness?"
"If you will begin to partake by faith, you will find that it will turn to honey in your mouth and bring rest to your stomach. Eat!"
"I . . . "
"Please, Matthew!" entreated his mother.
"You can do it, Matty!" encouraged James.
"Yeah! Go for it!" encouraged Joseph.
"I . . . "
"Just do it!" urged Samuel.
"I . . . "
"It will make us all very proud of you," added Mercy softly.
"But I'm afraid of it," moaned Matthew as body and soul trembled in the balance.
"No need to fear, lad," encouraged Dr. Skill. "'Tis made of the blood and body of our Lord Jesus. You must trust the hand that was nailed to the cross for you."
After an intense struggle, the boy at last gave his consent. "I . . . I shall try," said Matthew. Then there went around the little family a sigh of relief and a smile of hope. Dr. Skill offered up a prayer of consecration and helped the boy partake of the remedy. He took it with fear and trembling. But oh, after he did, what a sight to see! His face, so twisted with agony, began to ease. His body, so taut and doubled up with pain, began to relax. After a time he went into a sweating fever and began to vomit up that which was like to have been his death (the gruesome details of sight, sound and smell I shall, dear reader, leave to your imagination). After this, the lad fell into the sweetest sleep he had known since first partaking of the forbidden fruit.
So, in a few hours he was able to sit up; not long after to stand; and soon, with the aid of his father's staff, was up and walking from room to room. The lad was indeed on the mend and great was the joy of all as they saw his flesh filling out and a new look of peace on his face.
Now when the young man was completely restored, Christiana called for Dr. Skill and said:
"Pray tell, sir, what do I owe you for your wise counsel?"
"You must pay the Master of the College of Physicians, according to the fees laid down for such a severe case as this."
Then a faint wave of nausea swept over Christiana as her imagination began to anticipate the vast bill that had surely accrued. And rightfully so, for the case had been severe and the good doctor had freely lavished time, material and skill upon it. So it was that Christiana justly foresaw a mountain of debt piled high before her - a mountain that might take many years to surmount. Thus it was with some anxiety that she asked,
"And what price is that, good Doctor Skill?"
"You must pay Him richly by offering up the fruit of your lips."
"I am sorry, sir, but could you explain? What is the fruit of my lips?"
"It is the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving to God continuously lifted up. With such a payment, the Dean of the College of Physicians will be well pleased.
Ah," answered Christiana with a sigh of relief. "I shall be more than glad to offer up such a token of gratitude as that. But are you sure He will be content with that?"
"Yea. And more than content, for it will be a foretaste of the joy that was set before Him - that joy which led Him to give His life for you."
"I shall do it with a glad heart! But do tell, good Doctor, are these wonderful pills good for anything besides a poisoned stomach?"
"Oh, indeed! This is the universal antidote to all poisonings, whether of mind or body."
"Then might I ask for twelve boxes of them to carry on my journey? For if I can have these, I may leave behind many of my herbs and ointments and thus lighten my load."
"Certainly. And you will find that these pills are not only good as a cure but also as a tonic. In fact, if this wondrous potion were used faithfully on a daily basis, it would cause one to live forever, as it did for Enoch and Elijah."
"Indeed!"
"But you must take them exactly as prescribed or they will avail you nothing."
"I shall. But do tell, what is the main ingredient?"
"'Tis made ex carne et sanguine Christi."
"So you have said before. But since I can count my Latin phrases on the fingers of one hand, it has no meaning to me."
"Ah. Then I shall explain further," said the doctor graciously. "As I told Matthew, these pills are made from the body and blood of Christ. Applied with the promises, and salt, and the tears of repentance, they will fit a man for eternity!"
"Indeed! Well then, glad I am to have such a goodly supply of them. Surely they will help speed us on our journey. Thank you, Doctor."
"You are welcome. But, seeing that evening is beginning to pull her dark blankets over the moor, I must be off. I have several sick lambs to tuck into the fold before I sleep this night. Therefore, Christiana and faithful band, I bid you all a fond adieu. Matthew, take care that you don't eat any more green plums from forbidden trees."
"Yes, sir," said a much wiser Matthew with a sheepish smile.
"And to all you children, let me advise you to take good heed to the counsel of your mother. God has set her over you to protect you from dangers you cannot perceive. Therefore obey her by faith, even though it may go against your fleshly desires."
"Yes, sir," answered all.
"Remember, she loves you more than you love yourself and that she longs to grant you every lawful want of your heart. But, should she forbid you some darling desire, 'tis only for your own good. Therefore resist her not."
"I understand, sir," answered Matthew. "Thank you again for your help."
"'Twas my pleasure. And now, God speed thee all. Farewell."
Then everyone bade the good Doctor a fond goodbye and sent him into the deepening shadows with God's blessings.
Now later in the evening after all had fallen fast asleep, Christiana was upon her knees thanking God for Matthew's deliverance and seeking God's blessing upon the other children. Then there came a gentle knock at her door to which Christiana answered quietly, "Come in." Then Matthew slipped into the candle-lit bed chamber.
"Matthew! What brings you here at this late hour?"
But the lad stood still and said nothing, for his tongue would not obey his will. Christiana, seeing him to be deeply touched, said gently, "What is it, son?"
"I, uh. . . well, I . . . "
"Yes?"
"Well, Mother fair, God has shown me that my rebellion has bound a heavy burden of sorrow upon your heart. He has further shown me that I am no longer worthy to be called your son. But it is my greatest desire to accompany you on pilgrimage and to see the face of the King and my father. Therefore, make me as a hired servant and I shall obey you in all things."
"What! A servant! You?"
"Yes, Ma'am, if you will have me. I know I am unworthy. But I am truly sorry. Will you forgive me?"
"Oh, of course I forgive you, Matthew," said Christiana, enfolding her first-born into a mother's warm embrace while tears of blessed relief coursed unashamedly down her cheeks. After both their fountains of tears had dried a little, Matthew stood her back a pace, and taking her face tenderly in his hands, said, "I truly am sorry, Mother. And I meant what I said about being your servant. I shall bear the heaviest burdens and go before thee into whatever dangers may arise."
"Indeed, you shall. For there will never arise any danger that will require more courage of thee than this manly deed. You shall indeed go before me, not as a servant but as an honored son. Come, kneel with me and let me ask God's blessing upon you."
And so, by soft glow of candlelight, mother and son gave themselves anew to God: he to be her knight and defen
der, she to be his wall of protection against youthful lusts and deceptions of the spirit.
Next morning, after a gentle morning shower had refreshed the earth, the boys were visiting with Prudence in the parlor. Now, earlier in their visit, Prudence had invited the boys to ask her any questions that might lie upon their hearts. So Matthew, full of gratefulness for his recent deliverance, was of a ready mind to hear what she might say. Therefore he addressed the maid saying, "Prudence, do tell, why is it that the medicines that make us well taste so bitter?"
Matthew and Prudence
"'Tis an allegory."
"How so?"
"In that our natural tastes are like our natural heart. We are born loving the sweet and hating the bitter. So does the carnal heart turn away from the Word of God."
"Ah. Say more."
"Well, just as you were loath to swallow the very medicine that was to save your life, so does the carnal heart resist the Word of God."
"But why does that which is for our good make us feel even more sick and make us vomit?"
"'Tis also part of the allegory. For when the Word of God comes into our mind, it makes us sick of our past evil ways. Yea, so much so that we gladly part with them and turn from them as vile."
"Ah, 'tis a good allegory - and certainly true for me."
"And," added she, "there are godly lessons in virtually everything about us."
"Everything?" queried Samuel with a trace of doubt tinging his voice.
"Oh, yes."
"Even the fire over in the fireplace?"
"Certainly," said she, answering his doubting look with a confident smile.
"Then tell us," said he, "what do we learn by seeing the flames go upwards?"
"We learn that our thoughts are to ever be turned upwards by fervent prayer and burning desire. We learn too that we should obey the counsel of Jesus and storm the kingdom of heaven by the violence of our prayers."
Then, gazing out the window and seeing how the sun turned all the water droplets into glistening diamonds, Matthew asked, "And what lessons can we draw from the sunbeams that lighten and warm the earth?"
"As the sun warms our land, so does the Savior send His love and grace to we who are below."
"My!" exclaimed Joseph. "You really can find lessons everywhere. What about those fluffy white clouds out the window?"
"Where do the clouds get their water, Joseph?"
"From the sea, Ma'am. But what lesson can there be in that?"
"Well, for one thing, that the ministers of God should be as the clouds and draw their doctrines from the sea of God's Word."
"And if they don't?" he pursued.
"Then they will be deceitful clouds that cover the Son and nothing more. They offer the promise of heavenly rain but deliver nothing but empty words."
"And what about honest clouds that water the earth?" he asked. "What are they like?"
"Goodly clouds are like God's true people - whether they be a spiritual father or a mere babe in Christ; they freely share what they draw from the Word."
"Something that not many babes do," commented Matthew.
"Aye," agreed Prudence with a sigh. "And for that reason few new believers ever advance beyond the mere alphabet of Christian experience."
Just then James saw a rainbow and said: "Miss Prudence, Ma'am, why is the rainbow caused by the sun?"
"'Tis caused by the sun only when it shines through the rain, correct?"
"Aye."
"So it is that Christ, the Son of Righteousness, shines through the rain of our repentance to bring forth the rainbow of hope."
"Ah! That was a good one, Miss Prudence," said Matthew. "But answer this one: is it easier to be saved or to be lost?"
At this, Prudence paused for a thoughtful moment and then replied, "They are each, in their own way, both easier and harder."
At this, all the boys and even Christiana and Mercy looked upon each other with questioning looks. "Dear Prudence," said Matthew after a brief pause, "you have spoken of an impossible thing."
"Nay, Matthew. Not at all."
"Then do tell? How is it easier to be lost?"
"'Tis easier to be lost because it requires no effort. We need only float gently downstream on the bark of carnal desire. But all too soon we find ourselves swirling in the rapids of passion with no hope of return. Thus are we damned with no effort on our part at all."
"Hmmm," mused Matthew, thoughtfully. "This seems true enough. So then, how can it be harder to be lost?"
"Because the way of the transgressor is hard. He has neither moral compass nor voice from heaven saying 'this is the way, walk ye in it'. Therefore he is like a ship adrift upon a stormy sea with neither rudder nor sail. He sees Christians harbored in safe havens and desires to turn therein himself. But though he may row with all his might, he cannot stem the tide and feels only despair as he feels himself being blown farther out to sea."
"Yes, this seems true as well. So tell us, Miss Prudence, how about the saved? How is it easier to be saved?"
"'Tis easy to be saved because Christ has paid the price of salvation for us. He has taken our suffering and given us His peace. He has exchanged our weakness for His strength, our sorrow for His joy, our sin for His righteousness. As Isaiah hath said, 'with His stripes are we healed'."
"Rightly spoken!" agreed Samuel enthusiastically. "Truly there is no hardship or suffering demanded from us to be justified with God. Yea, there is nothing we can do to be made right before God except to believe on Jesus Christ and Him crucified in our place."
"Wisely spoken, Samuel," said Prudence approvingly.
"Then how can you say that being saved is harder?" he questioned.
"Because being saved demands that we become disciples."
"Please explain, Miss Prudence," he requested.
"To be a disciple means that we respond to God's love and accept of His discipline. We must, with Paul, bring our natural tastes and desires under the control of an enlightened conscience. We must give time to study and prayer. And then, like the clouds, we must give out the things that we learn by good teachings and unselfish works."
"So," interjected James, "'tis easier to be lost because we need no discipline, but harder because we become helpless slaves. And it is harder to be saved because we must travel against our natural desires, but easier because Christ willingly gives us the victory over the world, the flesh, and the devil, and fills our lives with His peace and love."
"'Out of the mouth of babes . . . '" quoted Prudence.
"Miss Prudence," began Matthew as he looked out the window, "outside this window there bubbles forth a spring."
"Yes."
"The springs come to us through the earth. What is the allegory in that?"
"It tells us that the water of grace comes to us through the humanity of Christ."
"Hmmm. But some springs break forth on the tops of high hills. What does that teach us?"
"It shows us that the spirit of grace may spring forth from the lives of men who are great and mighty, as well as from those who are poor and lowly. Jesus tells us that those who trust in riches shall find it a hard thing to enter the kingdom of heaven. But He also saith that 'with God all things are possible'. Therefore, accept truth where you find it, Matthew - whether in valley low or on mountain high."
"My! You do find heavenly lessons everywhere!" marveled Matthew. "Over on the mantle burns a candle. What does the flame clinging to the wick tell us?"
"That unless the flame of God's grace clings to our heart, our lives will be cold and shed forth no light."
"But in a few hours the wick and tallow will all be gone. Is there a lesson in that?"
"It tells us that all that we are and all that we have are to be freely spent to maintain the light."
"Discipline!" declared James.
"Aye," agreed Prudence. "We are to spend and be spent in God's service."
"And I'll wager," added Joseph, "that when we get to heaven we shall find that the price has b
een cheap enough."
"Oh, aye!" agreed Prudence. "Cheap enough indeed!"
"Hey! Look, you guys!" exclaimed James. At this, everyone joined him at the window to see, upon a nest near the lake, a pelican piercing her breast with her bill. "What lesson in that?" asked Matthew.
"She is giving her own flesh and blood to nourish her young. Just so has . . ."
". . . Christ given His flesh and blood to save and nourish us," said Matthew.