Friday, May 31, 2019

Rutherford Revised (153)

53. To Bethaia Aird       From Aberdeen 14 March 1637

(Maybe an Anwoth parishioner)

Worthy sister, - Grace, mercy and peace be unto you. I know you want news from my prison and I will give you some. When I first came here, Christ and I were not well agreed on it. The devil made an argument and I laid the blame on Christ for my heart was troubled with challenges, and I feared I was an outcast, and I was only a withered tree in the vineyard, and kept the sun off the good plants with my idle shadow, and that my Master had given the evil servant the fields to tend. Old guiltiness witnessed saying, 'It is all true.' My worries were pregnant with faultless fans, and unbelief sealed and said 'man' to it all. I thought  i was a hard case. Some said I should rejoice that Christ had honoured me to be a witness for Him; and I said in my heart, 'This is the talk of people who see me on the outside, but cannot tell whether or not I am a false witness.'
   If, in this matter, Christ had been as wilful and abrupt as I was, my faith would have gone over the hill and broken its neck. But we were well suited, - a hasty fool and a wise, patient, and meek Saviour. He did not take advantage of my foolishness, but waited until I cooled down, and my muddy and troubled well began to clear. He was never the slightest bit angry at the fevered ravings of a poor tempted sinner; but he mercifully forgave, and came (as is fitting for Him), with grace and new comfort to a sinner who deserved the opposite. And now he is content to kiss my black mouth, to put His hand into mine, and to feed me with as many comforts as would feed ten souls. Yet I dare not say that he wastes comforts, for nothing less would have lifted me up; one grain weight less would have tipped the scales. 
   Now who is like that royal King, crowned in Zion! Where will I get a place for real Majesty to set Him? If I could put Him as far above the heaven as millions of heights made by men and angels, I would only think Him too low. I pray you, for God's sake, dear sister, help me to praise. His love has neither top nor bottom; His love, like Himself passes all human understanding. I go to measure it with my arms; but it is like a child trying to encompass the globe, sea and land, in his two short arms. Blessed and holy is His name! That for which I now suffer must be His truth; for he would not laugh at a lie, nor confirm a dream in the night with His comforts.
   I beg for your prayers; and may the prayers and blessing of a prisoner of Christ be upon you. Grace be with you.
   Yours in his sweet Lord Jesus,  S.R. 

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