My Substitute

I recently finished a book, Love Came Down at Christmas, by Sinclair B. Ferguson for the Advent Season. Included was an essay, The Substitute by Sir James Young Simpson (1811-1870), a contemporary of Charles Dickens. And while A Christmas Carol may be more familiar to people, this essay was thought-provoking, to say the least. And, for me to have read it on Christmas Eve was significant.

Anyone who is intent on laying down their life to follow Jesus… who consistently discovers more and more and more of themselves that need to be released… will struggle with finding words to communicate the changes that are taking place.

I think this essay speaks to the heart more than any of my words could.

Enjoy! 💖

When I was a boy at school, I saw a sight I never can forget – a man tied to a cart, dragged before the people’s eyes through the streets of my native town, his back torn and bleeding from the lash.

It was a shameful punishment. For many offenses? No, for one offence. Did any of the townsmen offer to divide the lashes with him? No, he who committed the offence bore the penalty all alone. It was the penalty of a changing human law, for it was the last instance of its infliction.

When I was a student at the university, I saw another sight I never can forget – a man brought out to die. His arms were pinioned, his face was already as pale as death, thousands of eager eyes were on him as he came up from the jail in sight. Did any man ask to die in his room? Did any friend come and loose the ropes and say, “Put it around my neck, I will die instead”? No, he underwent the sentence of the law. For many offences? No, for one offence. He had stolen a money parcel from a stagecoach. He broke the law at one point, and died for it. It was the penalty of a changing human law in this case also. It was the last instance of capital punishment being inflicted for that offence.

I saw another sight, it matters not when – myself a sinner standing on the brink of ruin, deserving naught but hell. For one sin? No, for many, many sins committed against the unchanging laws of God. But again, I looked and saw Jesus, my Substitute, scourged in my stead, and dying on the cross for me. I looked, and wept, and was forgiven. And it seemed to me to be my duty to tell you of that Savior, to see if you will not also, “look and live”.

And how simple it all becomes when God opens the eye. A friend who lately came from Paris told me of an English groom there, a very careless old man, who had during a sever illness been made to feel that he was a sinner. He dared not die as he was. The clergyman whom he sent for got tired of visiting him, having told him all he then knew of the way of salvation. But one Sunday afternoon the groom’s daughter waited in the vestry after church, saying “You must come once more, sir; I cannot see my father again without you.” “I can tell him nothing new,” said the preacher; “but I may take the sermon I have been preaching and read it to him.” The dying man lay as before in anguish, thinking of his sins, and whither they must carry him. “My friend, I have come to read to you the sermon I have just preached. First, I shall tell you of the text: ‘He was wounded for our transgressions’ (Isaiah 53:5). Now I shall read.” “Hold!” said the dying man. “I have it! Read no more.  He was wounded for my transgressions.” Soon after he died rejoicing in Christ.