By Charles C. Cook, Montclair, New Jersey
Taken from Grace and Truth Magazine 1923
Only a short distance had I walked in the earthly pathway, when I became aware of a companion who had quietly joined me. An elderly man, of striking appearance, and grave, dignified manner. His garb was simple and spotless, his countenance stern, with unyielding lines about the mouth that gave no hint of ever being associated with a smile; his eyes possessed a peculiarly piercing glance, that penetrated to one's very heart.
We soon engaged in conversation,
which thereafter and as long as I journeyed with
him was mainly carried on by him. In fact, I was not
long in discovering that my companion felt commissioned to
scrutinize my every action and expression, and to pass
judgment with a relentless and unbending decision. He
seemed able to read my very thoughts and to weigh my
motives, and quickly condemned all that failed to reach the
mark of his approval; though, on the other hand, he seemed
never to consider any good or commendable action that I might perform. The great burden which I carried on my back, that was so heavy and cumbrous that
it galled my shoulders, he never so much as noticed, and certainly never once offered to relieve me
of it for an instant, even though I sometimes stumbled beneath it
and even fell under its weight. No hand was even then extended to help me arise, but I was obliged
to accomplish this as best I could. Sometimes the flesh became so faint that I cried out aloud in
my need and would involuntarily groan for deliverance, the tears even coursing down my cheeks as 1 realized my helplessness. Yet for all these distresses my
fellow had no word of sympathy, no sign
of compassion — only that steady
piercing look, that grave and
dignified demeanor, which in my very misery found occasion
for condemnation.
I instinctively realized that
whoever and whatever this man was, however pure, and
clean, and holy he might be, he had no heart, and
knew not the meaning of love. I dreaded his presence and
longed to escape it, but there seemed no way to evade or
ignore him. He towered over me in conscious and
recognized superiority, and seemed destined to accompany me
to the very end.
Thus the journey continued, I
falling out of the rigidly straight path in which
we were walking time and again, or stumbling and
pitching along its course, with now and then a
grievous fall and a painful rising, and he striding by
my side, anon chiding, condemning, angrily frowning at my
slightest offense, with never a kind word or an
expression of satisfaction,
until at last the climax of his
indignation was reached.
Bidding me look toward an
object, thus far unseen, but to which we had been
steadily drawing near, and of which I had some premonition,
even in the very darkening sky and the deepening gloom,
he suddenly revealed to me, a glowing mountain, about
which the lightnings flashed and above which the
thunder reverberated with a sullen roar.
"This is your doom," said my
companion, as, holding my arm, he pointed toward the
terrible sight. " 'The wages of sin is death,' and
Sinai shows no mercy to such as you."
Conscious of my guilt
and the justice of the sentence, yet yearning for mercy
and escape, I looked eagerly into my companion's
face, if haply I might there find a glance of tender interest
or compassion that would give me a gleam of hope. But all
in vain, for the hard features showed no relenting.
And complete despair seized me when, by the
lightning's flash, I saw written on my companion's forehead, what
I instantly realized must be his name — the one word
LAW. Also then I noticed for the first time,
agitated as I was, that
curiously woven in his garments, in a pattern most unique, were the ten commandments.
But hark! a cry sounds on my ear, a bitter and heart-rending cry, and looking to the place whence it proceeds, I see one
hanging on a Cross in agony and
blood. With such a wondrous scene before me, the smoking
mountain
and my companion are forgotten. Involuntarily I draw nearer to the Cross, which like a magnet
attracts me. I see the flowing blood of
the dying One, I hear His groans,
and more than all — a sight that
never can be effaced — catch His dying glance, when marvel beyond expression, from my weary, drooping shoulders falls the load
beneath which I
staggered. And with a strange elation of
mingled joy, gratitude and love, I press
toward my benefactor, that I may kiss His wounds, when lo!
another glance occurs: The Cross recedes and fades
beyond my bounding steps, and soon I pass an empty
sepulchre, and then, beyond — a Man in white apparel, with
smiling face, whose hands are extended in smiling welcome,
who draws me to His side and bids me walk with Him
in blessed fellowship. I need no one to tell me who He
is, for in the outstretched hands I see the wounds, and in
that face, so beautiful and serene, I recognize the once
marred features of the Man of Calvary. It is the once
crucified, but now resurrected Lord, who is alive for evermore,
the good and great Shepherd of His sheep.
Oh, the happiness and joy of
His companionship! But, alas! one day, and oh,
how soon, I see again my former fellow-traveler. Law.
At the Cross I had forgotten his presence, nor
even thought of him at the open sepulchre,
nor as I walked with Christ
during that happy
after-interval. But now he is in
full view, with the same
spotless garb, the erect
dignified carriage, the piercing eye. At once I
concluded that he had been near me all the time, and that
my absorption in my newfound Friend had prevented my
noticing him. Oh, how condemned I felt that I had ever
taken my eyes from the face of the Beloved One, thus
again to see the other.
And yet by some strange
besetment do I frequently turn to him, but only again to
see the searching glance and the menacing attitude, and again
to feel within me the cringing, shrinking spirit of
guilt and condemnation. His dead-level path runs parallel to
ours, and while I notice that it is lower, yet so tall is
he that he can easily address me. Not always loud; sometimes
in a whisper does he speak — as though he would not
have Christ to hear — recalling my past misdeeds and
failures. His memory seems
unfailing to bring them up again
— the lapses and the stumblings in the path that once
I walked. And my present conduct is also under his
keen surveillance. His eye notes every uneven step, yea,
even every glance that I take away from the face of
Christ. And when I seem disposed to ignore him, he even
writes his accusations on a tablet, and
holding it up before me, accompanies
it with the same stern look of
condemnation as of old, and even makes
bold to point again of? toward Sinai.
Thus he frightens me. For while I
truly hate sin and walk no longer in
its ways, yea, while I would rather
die at once than give up my place by
my Saviour's side, yet I know that
I am still sometimes feeble in my
step, sometimes even looking backward
in imagination to the life of self
and sinful pleasure.
With these conflicting influences pressing on me, I turn to Law and seek a lessening of his stern exactions by
recounting the improvement I have made and the many acts of
rectitude and obedience I have performed;
but all in vain. For all my efforts
to mollify or to mitigate only bring
the relentless answer, "Whosoever
shall keep the whole law, and yet
offend in nne point, he is guilty of all"
— on hearing which, hope again
languishes within my breast.
During all this time the walk
with Christ is precious beyond naming. When I turn to
Him on my right, there is always peace and confidence
within, but on my left (and not for long allowing me to
forget his presence) is Law, with his persistent, distracting
accusations. Oh, when will I find relief! is the
burden of my heart's longings until in my anguish and
extremity I cry aloud, "O wretched man that I am, who
shall deliver me from the body of this death?"
No sooner, however, is the cry
uttered, than the answer is put into my heart and
mouth, the glorious words of deliverance, "L thank God,
through Jesus Christ our Lord." And lo, as I utter them,
I find myself in company with my Lord, taking an
upward step — yes, the ground is rising steadily.
Higher and still higher do we mount, until — and more quickly
than it takes to tell it — we are on so high a plane that
I^aw, still on his dead-level path, is so far beneath
that, though the ways are still
parallel, I can no longer see
him.
I learned afterward of a meeting
between Law and a pilgrim named Galatius. He,
too, came to the Cross, the empty sepulchre, and the
welcoming Christ, with whom he walked as I had done.
But there came a time when, looking at Law and
seemingly bewitched by his personality and intimidated by
his authority, Galatius stumbled down the intervening
embankment, and turning his back on Christ, never
returned to His sweet company.
Others there were, of whom I
also afterward learned, whose experiences differed in
another form from mine. For being quicker of
apprehension, they spent but
little time in Law's company, and, on
meeting Christ walked J with Him so rapidly and became
so engaged with Him, that the upward path, in a much
shorter time than in my case, took them beyond the old
man's frown.
But returning to the narration of
my own experience. I was now so overjoyed to
leave the presence of Law, my vision becoming so
much clearer, my, mind and will stronger, and my
love so all-pervading, that I felt
the path to be indeed the avenue to
heaven's gate. And while even now sometimes stumbling, or sometimes
allowing the mind's eye to wander
back or to be diverted by some mirage,
and I at all times conscious of the
great distance between the perfection
of the Holy One with whom I walked and
' my own weak character, yet the
failures are of rare occurrence, and
in spite of them my life is one of
victory in the Beloved.
He is so tender, kind and
compassionate that He quite wins my
heart's allegiance; His love is now my
holy law, moving me to a grateful
obedience to His will for me, so that
to offend Him would be my greatest grief. In such a happy
relationship, I realize that sin has no
dominion over me.
One day I asked Him to
enlighten me as to the real character
and purposes of my old companion. Law,
for sorely did the memory of my
experience puzzle me, and on this
order was His answer:
He told me that (the) Law was
holy, just, and good; that by (the) Law is the
knowledge of sin; that (the) Law's purpose was to show
pilgrims their helplessness and give them a sense of their
guilt before God. If Law, He further told me, had not been
so severe, if he had not shown me Sinai, I would surely
not have been so eager to find refuge in the Cross, but
in my self-sufficiency would have seen no special
attractiveness in it nor felt
its drawing power. So then. Law was
in reality a messenger of mercy to me in showing me my
need of a Saviour, and while revealing Sinai, he was in
reality driving me to Calvary. A stern schoolmaster, he,
yet the one who led me until I found Christ, my
Redeemer. But when he
accomplishes this,
continued my instructor, his purpose is ended.
Yet so unaccountable is the conduct of pilgrims
that they frequently place themselves
again beneath
his influence, subjecting themselves to his surveillance
and condemnation. Ordained of God for one purpose,
they choose him for another, as I myself had done. But
the Saviour added that if, after meeting Him, I had so
walked as to keep Him, my Lord, between myself and Law,
I could then have seen my oppressor, and would
have realized the meaning of the wondrous assurance,
"Ye are also become dead to the Law by the body of
Christ."
The Saviour did not soften my
conception of Law, but admitted his hard and
uncompassionate spirit. In fact. He even told me of Law's bloody
exactions, when, in the olden days, for the offense
of gathering sticks on the Sabbath day, a man was stoned to
death at Law's behest. But no blame attached to Law for
this; such action being appropriate to the time and
place in the plan of God. However, conditions are now
changed, the Saviour added. and in the present dispensation
of Grace, God in His abounding goodness has provided
another way for men to demonstrate their devotion to
Him; not that He requires less of them, as to purity,
holiness and love, but He has made it easier for men to attain
to these and thus to please Him.
As He spoke I saw Truth standing
forth in shining presence, and knew that the
Cross was what He meant, with its accompaniment of the
empty sepulchre, and beyond that the Saviour's own
sweet, satisfying companionship and heart of sympathy. And
at His feet I fell, while welling from a heart filled to
overflowing with a sense of love and gratitude, came to
my lips the gladsome worshipful acclaim of the disciple
Thomas, "My Lord and my God."
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