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Substitution
My Son Died, Don’t You Care
The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before.
It’s not influenza, but three or four fellows are dead, and it’s kind of interesting. They’re sending some doctors over there to investigate it. You don’t think much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot. Only they say it’s not three villagers, it’s 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it’s on TV that night.
CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.
By Monday morning when you get up, it’s the lead story. For it’s not just India; it’s Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you’re hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it now as “the mystery flu.”
The President has made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there.
But everyone is wondering, “How are we going to contain it?” That’s when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where this thing has been seen.
That night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest, when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English: “There’s a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe.”
Panic strikes.
As best they can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week and you don’t know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die.
Britain closes it’s borders, but it’s too late. Southampton, Liverpool, Northhampton, and it’s Tuesday morning when the President of the United States makes the following announcement: “Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I’m sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing. Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear.
People are selling little masks for your face. Some are talking about what if it comes to this country, and preachers on Tuesday are saying, “It’s the scourge of God.” It’s Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs in from the parking lot and says, “Turn on a radio, turn on a radio.” While the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to it, the announcement is made, “Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu.” Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the country.
People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote. Nothing is working. California, Oregon, Arizona, Florida, Massachusetts. It’s as though it’s just sweeping in from the borders.
Then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It’s going to take the blood of somebody who hasn’t been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: “Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That’s all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the hospitals.”
Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line, and they’ve got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it.
Your spouse and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they say, “Wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home.”
You stand around scared with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is going on, and that this is the end of the world. Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming. He’s yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says with a grin, “Daddy, that’s me.”
Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. “Wait a minute, hold it!” And they say, “It’s okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn’t have the disease. We think he has got the right type.”
Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another - some are even laughing. It’s the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor walks up to you and says, “Thank you, sir. Your son’s blood type is perfect. It’s clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine.”
As the word begins to spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and laughing and crying. But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says, “May we see you for a moment?
We didn’t realize that the donor would be a minor and we need . . . we need you to sign a consent form.”
You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. “H-h-h-how many pints?,” you ask. And that is when the old doctor’s smile fades and he says, “We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren’t prepared. We need it all!”
“But -but...” “You don’t understand. We are talking about the world here. Please sign. We - we need it all -we need it all!”
“But can’t you give him a transfusion?”
“If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you sign?”
In numb silence you do. Then they say, “Would you like to have a moment with your son?” You go into that room where he sits on a table saying, “Daddy? Mommy? What’s going on?”
Can you take his hands and say, “Son, we love you, and we would never ever let anything happen to you that didn’t just have to be. Do you understand that?”
When that old doctor comes back in and says, “I’m sorry, we’ve -we’ve got to get started. People all over the world are dying.” Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, “Dad? Mom? Why - why have you forsaken me?”
And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, some folks sleep through it, and some folks don’t even come because they go to the lake, and some folks come with a pretentious attitude.
“MY SON DIED! DON’T YOU CARE?”
Is that what God may be saying? “MY SON DIED. DON’T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I CARE?”
“Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we can begin to comprehend the great love you have for us. Amen “
Source unknown
Christ’s Atoning Work
The hymn writer Philip P. Bliss described Jesus’ atoning work on the cross as follows:
Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood—
Sealed my pardon with His blood:
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
Yes, only Christ could be our sinbearer!
- Philip P. Bliss
Source unknown
Thank God For a Royal Substitute
After World War 1, 900 German soldiers who had violated international law were summoned to appear before the World Court. Their condemnation was certain. In a dramatic move, however, the former crown prince of Germany volunteered to be their substitute. His offer included taking upon himself both the accusation against them and their penalty. This act, though most noble, was impractical. Although he was royalty, he did not have in his own person the value of the 900.
There is another Prince who took upon Himself the judgment due the entire human race. Unlike that German leader, He is not implicated in any evil. Because of His sinless humanity, He could be “delivered for our offenses.” Because of His deity, He could be “raised again for our justification” (Rom. 4:25). He was able to pay in full the ransom demanded by God’s holy law, because in Him was the intrinsic worth needed to provide salvation. Yes, the Father laid upon His sinless Son the iniquity of us all.
Our redemption has been purchased by Heaven’s Crown Prince. So don’t depreciate the cross. Don’t underrate Christ’s great sacrifice. It will cost you your soul. It will shut you out from God. It will darken your eternity.
Our Daily Bread, April 17
Christ Our Substitute
Martin Luther wrote: “All the prophets did foresee in Spirit that Christ should become the greatest transgressor, murderer, adulterer, thief, rebel, blasphemer, etc., that ever was or could be in all the world. For he, being made a sacrifice for the sins of the whole world is not now an innocent person and without sins...but a sinner.” He was, of course, talking about the imputing of our wrongdoing to Christ as our substitute.
Luther continues: “Our most merciful Father...sent his only Son into the world and laid upon him...the sins of all men saying: Be thou Peter that denier; Paul that persecutor, blasphemer and cruel oppressor; David that adulterer; that sinner which did eat the apple in Paradise; that thief which hanged upon the cross; and briefly be thou the person which hath committed the sins of all men; see therefore that thou pay and satisfy for them. Here now comes the law and saith: I find him a sinner...therefore let him die upon the cross. And so he setteth upon him and killeth him. By this means the whole world is purged and cleansed from all sins.”
The presentation of the death of Christ as the substitute exhibits the love of the cross more richly, fully, gloriously, and glowingly than any other account of it. Luther saw this and gloried in it. He once wrote to a friend: “Learn to know Christ and him crucified. Learn to sing to him, and say, ‘Lord Jesus, you are my righteousness, I am your sin. You have taken upon yourself what is mine and given me what is yours. You became what you were not, so that I might become what I was not.’”
What a great and wonderful exchange! Was there ever such love?
Your Father Loves You by James Packer, Harold Shaw Publishers, 1986, page for October 20
Dear to the Father
“He hath made us accepted in the beloved” (Eph. 1:6).
Years ago I was preaching in the small town of Roosevelt, Washington, on the north bank of the Columbia River. I was the guest of friends who were sheep-raisers. It was lambing time and every morning we went out to see the lambs—hundreds of them—playing about on the green. One morning I was startled to see an old ewe go loping across the road, followed by the strangest looking lamb I had ever beheld. It apparently had six legs, and the skin seemed to be partially torn from its body in a way that made me feel the poor little creature must be suffering terribly. But when one of the herders caught the lamb and brought it over to me, the mystery was explained. That lamb did not really belong originally to that ewe. She had a lamb which was bitten by a rattlesnake and died. This lamb that I saw was an orphan and needed a mother’s care. But at first the bereft ewe refused to have anything to do with it. She sniffed at it when it was brought to her, then pushed it away, saying as plainly as a sheep could say it, “That is not our family odor!” So the herders skinned the lamb that had died and very carefully drew the fleece over the living lamb. This left the hind-leg coverings dragging loose. Thus covered, the lamb was brought again to the ewe. She smelled it once more and this time seemed thoroughly satisfied and adopted it as her own.
It seemed to me to be a beautiful picture of the grace of God to sinners. We are all outcasts and have no claim upon His love. But God’s own Son, the “Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the World,” has died for us and now we who believe are dressed up in the fleece of the Lamb who died. Thus, God has accepted us in Him, and “there is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.” We are as dear to the heart of the Father as His own holy, spotless Son.
“So dear, so very dear to God,
More dear I cannot be;
The love wherewith He loves His Son,
Such is His love to me.
So near, so very near to God,
Nearer I could not be,
For in the person of His Son,
I am as near as He.”
Illustrations of Bible Truth by H. A. Ironside, Moody Press, 1945, pp. 33-34
The Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight
During the 17th century, Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of England, sentenced a soldier to be shot for his crimes. The execution was to take place at the ringing of the evening curfew bell. However, the bell did not sound. The soldier’s fiancée had climbed into the belfry and clung to the great clapper of the bell to prevent it from striking. When she was summoned by Cromwell to account for her actions, she wept as she showed him her bruised and bleeding hands. Cromwell’s heart was touched and he said, “Your lover shall live because of your sacrifice. Curfew shall not ring tonight!”
Our Daily Bread
Threw Their Bodies on Grenades
The name Donald Ruhl belongs to an elite group of only 28 men. Donald Ruhl and 27 other in WWII threw their bodies on grenades to protect their fellow soldiers. Donald Ruhl gave his life on Iwo Jima.
Source unknown
Lottery System
During the war between Britain and France, men were conscripted into the French army by a kind of lottery system. When someone’s name was drawn, he had to go off to battle. There was one exception to this, however. A person could be exempt if another was willing to take his place.
On one occasion the authorities came to a certain man and told him he was among those who had been chosen. He refused to go, saying, “I was shot 2 years ago.” At first they questioned his sanity, but he insisted that this indeed was the case. He claimed that the military records would show that he had been conscripted 2 years previously and that he had been killed in action. “How can that be?” they questioned. “You are alive now!”
He explained that when his name came up, a close friend said to him, “You have a large family, but I am not married and nobody is dependent upon me. I’ll take your name and address and go in your place.” And that is indeed what the record showed.
This rather unusual case was referred to Napoleon Bonaparte, who decided that the country had no legal claim on that man. He was free. He had died in the person of another!
This principle of substitution is also at the heart of the gospel. The Savior willingly took our place, not because He had any less to lose than we, but because of His infinite love. He died in our stead and paid the penalty for our sin. The law, which demands the ultimate punishment, has no claim on us, for we died 1900 years ago in the person of Christ. His finished work is the basis of our salvation. We depend on Him—our Substitute!
Our Daily Bread
Substitution
To illustrate the principle of substitution, George Sweeting, Chancellor of Moody Bible Institute, told of a series of tornadoes that caused extensive damage in eastern Ohio and western Pennsylvania. Nearly 100 lives were lost. Prior to the storm, a man named David Kostka was umpiring a Little League baseball game in Wheatland, Pennsylvania. When he saw the black funnel heading toward the field, he rushed into the stands and grabbed his niece. He pushed her into a nearby ditch and covered her with his body. Then the tornado struck. When the youngster looked up, her uncle was gone. He had given his life in the deadly storm to save her.
Our Daily Bread
La Gurardia Paid His Fine
As mayor of New York, Fiorello La Guardia liked to keep in touch with all the various departments under him. Often he would fill in for the department heads or officeholders as a way of accomplishing this. One time he chose to preside over Night Court. It was a cold winter night and a trembling man was brought before him charged with stealing a loaf of bread. His family, he said, was starving.
“I have to punish you,” declared La Guardia. “There can be no exceptions to the law. I fine you ten dollars.” As he said this, however, The Little Flower was reaching into his own pocket for the money. He tossed the bill into his famous sombrero. “Here’s the ten dollars to pay your fine—which I now remit,” he said.
“Furthermore,” he declared, “I’m going to fine everybody in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a city where a man has to steal bread in order to eat. Mr. Bailiff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant!” The hat was passed and the incredulous man, with a smile on his face, left the courtroom with a stake of $47.50.
Bits & Pieces, August 20, 1992, pp. 19-20
Chaplains Gave Their Life Jackets
Boarding the SS Dorchester on a dreary winter day in 1943 were 903 troops and four chaplains, including Moody alumnus Lt. George Fox. World War II was in full swing, and the ship was headed across the icy North Atlantic where German U-boats lurked. At 12:00 on the morning of February 3, a German torpedo ripped into the ship. “She’s going down!” the men cried, scrambling for lifeboats. A young GI crept up to one of the chaplains. “I’ve lost my life jacket,” he said.
“Take this,” the chaplain said, handing the soldier his jacket. Before the ship sank, each chaplain gave his life jacket to another man. The heroic chaplains then linked arms and lifted their voices in prayer as the Dorchester went down. Lt. Fox and his fellow pastors were awarded posthumously the Distinguished Service Cross.
Today in the Word, April 1, 1992
Boy Always Late For Dinner
The small boy had been consistently late for dinner. One particular day his parents had warned him to be on time, but he arrived later than ever. He found his parents already seated at the table, about to start eating. Quickly he sat at his place, then noticed what was set before him—a slice of bread and a glass of water. There was silence as he sat staring at his plate, crushed. Suddenly he saw his father’s hand reach over, pick up his plate and set it before himself. Then his dad put his own full plate in front of his son, smiling warmly as he made the exchange. When the boy became a man, he said, “All my life I’ve known what God was like by what my father did that night.”
Homemade, May, 1989
Blood Transfusion
In his book Written In Blood, Robert Coleman tells the story of a little boy whose sister needed a blood transfusion. The doctor explained that she had the same disease the boy had recovered from two years earlier. Her only chance for recovery was a transfusion from someone who had previously conquered the disease. Since the two children had the same rare blood type, the boy was the ideal donor.
“Would you give your blood to Mary?” the doctor asked. Johnny hesitated. His lower lip started to tremble. Then he smiled and said, “Sure, for my sister.”
Soon the two children were wheeled into the hospital room—Mary, pale and thin; Johnny, robust and healthy. Neither spoke, but when their eyes met, Johnny grinned.
As the nurse inserted the needle into his arm, Johnny’s smile faded. He watched the blood flow through the tube. With the ordeal almost over, his voice, slightly shaky, broke the silence. “Doctor, when do I die?’ Only then did the doctor realize why Johnny had hesitated, why his lip had trembled when he’d agreed to donate his blood. He’s thought giving his blood to his sister meant giving up his life. In that brief moment, he’d made his great decision.
Johnny, fortunately, didn’t have to die to save his sister. Each of us, however, has a condition more serious than Mary’s, and it required Jesus to give not just His blood but His life.
Thomas Lindberg
Miracle on the River Kwai
In “The Christian Leader,” Don Ratzlaff retells a story Vernon Grounds came across in Ernest Gordon’s Miracle On The River Kwai. The Scottish soldiers, forced by their Japanese captors to labor on a jungle railroad, had degenerated to barbarous behavior, but one afternoon something happened.” A shovel was missing. The officer in charge became enraged. He demanded that the missing shovel be produced, or else. When nobody in the squadron budged, the officer got his gun and threatened to kill them all on the spot . . . It was obvious the officer meant what he had said. Then, finally, one man stepped forward. The officer put away his gun, picked up a shovel, and beat the man to death. When it was over, the survivors picked up the bloody corpse and carried it with them to the second tool check. This time, no shovel was missing. Indeed, there had been a miscount at the first check point.” The word spread like wildfire through the whole camp. An innocent man had been willing to die to save the others! . . . The incident had a profound effect. . . The men began to treat each other like brothers.
“When the victorious Allies swept in, the survivors, human skeletons, lined up in front of their captors . . (and instead of attacking their captors) insisted: ‘No more hatred. No more killing. Now what we need is forgiveness.’”
Sacrificial love has transforming power.
Source unknown
Atomic Radiation
In Planet In Rebellion, George Vandeman wrote:
It was May 21, 1946. The place—Los Alamos. A young and daring scientist was carrying out a necessary experiment in preparation for the atomic test to be conducted in the waters of the South Pacific atoll at Bikini. “He had successfully performed such an experiment many times before. In his effort to determine the amount of U-235 necessary for a chain reaction—scientists call it the critical mass—he would push two hemispheres of uranium together. Then, just as the mass became critical, he would push them apart with his screwdriver, thus instantly stopping the chain reaction.
But that day, just as the material became critical, the screwdriver slipped! The hemispheres of uranium came too close together. Instantly the room was filled with a dazzling bluish haze. Young Louis Slotin, instead of ducking and thereby possibly saving himself, tore the two hemispheres apart with his hands and thus interrupted the chain reaction.
By this instant, self-forgetful daring, he saved the lives of the seven other persons in the room. . . As he waited. . for the car that was to take him to the hospital, he said quietly to his companion, ‘You’ll come through all right. But I haven’t the faintest chance myself.’ It was only too true. Nine days later he died in agony.
“Nineteen centuries ago the Son of the living God walked directly into sin’s most concentrated radiation, allowed Himself to be touched by its curse, and let it take His life . . . But by that act He broke the chain reaction. He broke the power of sin.
Planet In Rebellion, George Vandeman
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