Steps to Life

WEEKLY

# 13

The Measuring

In our last lesson we studied about God's court and judgment. Today we will find out how God decides in this judgment who is saved and who is not. If "we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ," (2 Corinthians 5:10) how is it that He decides what is good or bad? What is the standard? What happens if we don't "measure up"? Can any of us measure up? We will answer these questions in our lesson today, but first, let me tell you some stories about being judged.

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A young Quaker girl dreamed that she was on her way to school. As she walked along, she suddenly noticed a large crowd. She asked what it was all about and a girl said, "Why, don't you know? It's Measuring Day. The Lord's angel has come to see how much our souls have grown since last Measuring Day."

Let's let this Quaker girl pick up the story from here in her own words:

"Measuring Day!" I said. "Measuring souls! I never heard of such a thing." After a little while I let myself be pressed along into the crowd.

In the center, on a kind of throne, under an elm, was the most glorious and beautiful being I had ever seen. He had white wings. His clothes were of shining white. He had the kindest yet most serious face I had ever beheld. By his side was a tall, golden rod, fastened upright in the ground with curious marks at regular intervals from top to bottom. Over it, in a golden scroll, were the words, "The measure of a perfect man."

The angel held in his hand a large book in which to record the measurements. One by one names were called and the people came up to be measured.

The instant a person touched the golden measure a most unusual thing happened. Each one shrank or increased to his true dimensions his spiritual dimensions. It was an index of the soul growth which was shown in this mysterious way. No one could escape the terrible accuracy of that strange rod.

The first few people that I saw being measured were strangers. Soon, however, the name of Elizabeth Darrow, the president of the Society for the Aid of the Destitute, was called. She managed other charitable societies as well, and I was sure that her measure would be very high indeed.

The instant she touched the rod, however, she seemed to grow shorter and shorter. The angel's face grew very serious as he said, "This would be a soul of high stature if zeal for outside works was the only thing being checked. But this checks also the lowly, secret graces of humility, trust, and patience under little everyday trials. These, too, are needed for perfect soul growth."

I pitied Elizabeth Darrow as she stepped away with such a sad, surprised face to make room for the next.

I never was more astonished in my life than when the next person taking her stand by the rod immediately increased in height till her mark was higher than any I had seen before. Her face shone. It seemed to reflect light from the angel who smiled so gloriously on poor little Betsy. As the angel wrote in the book, he said, "Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 5:3).

The next was Lillian Edgar. She always dressed so beautifully that I had often wished I had such clothes and as much money. The angel looked sadly at her measure, for it was very low. Lillian turned as pale as death. Her beautiful clothes were quite overshadowed by the glittering robes of the angel beside her. "O child," the angel said in a solemn tone. " 'Why take thought of raiment?, (Matthew 6:28). Let your adorning be not that outward adorning or putting on of apparel, but let it be the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.' (See 1 Peter 3:3,4.) Thus only can you grow like the Master."

Old Jerry, the cobbler, came next poor old clumsy Jerry. As he hobbled up the steps, the angel's face fairly blazed with light. He smiled on Jerry and led him to the rod. And behold, Jerry's measure was higher than any of the others. The angel's voice rang out loud and clear saying, "He that humbleth himself shall be exalted."

And then, oh, my name came next. I trembled. I could hardly reach the angel. He put his arm around me and helped me to stand by the rod. As soon as I touched it I felt myself growing shorter and shorter. I reached and strained every nerve and muscle to be as tall as possible, but I could only reach Lillian's mark Lillian's, the lowest of all, and I had been a church member for two years!

I grew crimson with shame, and whispered to the angel, "Oh, give me another chance before you mark me in the book as low as this. Tell me how to grow. I will do it all so gladly, only do not put this mark down."

The angel shook his head sadly. "The record must go down as it is, my child. May it be higher when I come next time. This rule will help you, 'Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men' "(Col. 3:23).

With that I burst into tears. I awoke to find myself crying. I shall never forget that dream. I was so ashamed of my mark.

How thankful she must have been to find it was only a dream and that it was not the final "Measuring Day." In her dream, character was measured against a special rod. The rod was a standard. Certainly in the judgment God is not going to use a yardstick. What does that rod represent? Is it possible for us to know today how we compare with that standard? What can be done if, like the little Quaker girl, we find ourselves coming up "short."

This Quaker girl awoke from her dream to live a better life. Our next story, however, was not a dream, but actually happened to a United States soldier during the American Civil War.

"I thought, Pastor Allan, when I gave my Bennie to his country, that not a father in all this broad land made so precious a gift. I'm sure the dear boy slept only a minute, just one little minute, at his post. I know that was all. Bennie never dozed over a duty. How prompt and reliable he was! I'm sure he fell asleep only one little second. He was so young, and so strong, that boy of mine. Why, he was as tall as I, and only eighteen, and now they shoot him because he was found asleep when doing sentinel duty! Twenty-four hours to live. Where is Bennie now?"

"We will hope that his heavenly Father has spared him," said Pastor Allan soothingly.

"Before leaving to join the army, Bennie said to me, 'I should be ashamed, Father, when I am a man, to think I never used this great right arm for my country when it needed it!' Holding his arm out before me he continued, 'Palsy this arm rather than keep it at the plow!'

"I told him, 'Go then, my boy, go, and God keep you!' God has kept him, I think, Pastor Allan!" And the father repeated these words slowly, as if, in spite of his faith, his heart doubted them.

"He has kept him like the apple of His eye, Mr. Owen; doubt it not," Pastor Allan replied.

Little Blossom was sitting near them, listening with blanched cheeks. She had not shed a tear. Her anxiety had been so concealed that no one noticed it. She had occupied herself mechanically in the household cares. Now she answered a gentle tap at the kitchen door, opening it to receive from a neighbor's hand a letter. "It is from him!" was all she said.

It was like a message from the dead. Mr. Owen took the letter, but couldn't open the envelope with his trembling fingers. He held it to Pastor Allan with the helplessness of a child.

The minister opened it, and read as follows:

"Dear Father,

When this reaches you, I may be dead. At first, it seemed awful to me; but I have thought about it so much now, that it has no terror. They say they will not bind me, nor blind me, but that I may meet my death like a man. I thought, Father, it might have been on the battlefield for my country; but to be shot down like a dog for nearly betraying it to die for neglect of duty. Oh, Father, I wonder the very thought does not kill me. But I shall not disgrace you. I am going to write you all about it; and when I am gone, you may tell my comrades. I cannot now.

"You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother I would look after her son; and when he fell sick, I did all I could for him. He was not strong when he was ordered back into the ranks, and the day before that night, I carried all his luggage besides my own on our march. Toward night we went on a double-quick. The luggage began to feel very heavy, but everybody else was tired too. As for Jemmie, if I had not lent him an arm now and then, he would have dropped by the way. I was all tired out when we came into camp, and then it was Jemmie's turn to be sentry, and I would take his place; but I was too tired, Father. I could not have kept awake if a gun had been pointed at my head; but I did not know it until well, until it was too late."

"God be thanked!" interrupted Mr. Owen reverently. "I knew Bennie was not the boy to sleep carelessly at his post."

"They tell me today that I have a short reprieve given to me by circumstances time to write to you, our good Colonel says. Forgive him, Father. He does only his duty; he would gladly save me if he could. And do not lay my death up against poor Jemmie. The poor boy is brokenhearted and does nothing but beg and entreat them to let him die in my stead.

"I cannot bear to think of Mother and Blossom. Comfort them, Father. Tell them I die as a brave man should, and that, when the war is over, they will not be ashamed of me. God help me; it is very hard to bear. Good-by, Father. God seems near and dear to me, not at all as if He wished me to perish forever, but as if He felt sorry for His poor, sinful, brokenhearted child, and would take me with Him and my Saviour in a better, better life."

A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. "Amen," he said solemnly. "Amen."

"Tonight in the early twilight I shall see the cows all coming home from the pasture, and precious little Blossom standing on the back stoop, waiting for me; but I shall never, never come. God bless you all. Forgive your poor Bennie."

Late that night the door of the "back stoop" opened softly. Out glided a little figure. She seemed to be flying down the footpath that led to the road by the mill. She turned her head neither to the right nor to the left, but now and then looked toward heaven with folded hands, as if in prayer.

Two hours later, the same young girl stood at the Mill depot, watching the coming of the night train. The conductor, as he reached down to lift her into the car, wondered at the tear-stained face that was upturned toward the dim lantern he held in his hand. A few questions and ready answers told him all. No father ever cared more tenderly for his own child, than that conductor cared for little Blossom.

She was on her way to Washington to ask President Lincoln for her brother's life. She had stolen away, leaving a note to tell her father where and why she had gone. She had brought Bennie's letter with her. No good, kind heart like the President's could refuse to be melted by it. The next morning they reached New York, and the conductor hurried her on to Washington. Every minute, now, might be the means of saving her brother's life. In an incredibly short time, Blossom reached the capital and hastened to the White House.

The President had just seated himself to his morning's tasks, when, without a word of announcement, the door softly opened. Blossom, with downcast eyes and folded hands, stood before him.

"Well, my child," he said in a pleasant cheerful tone, "what do you want so bright and early in the morning?"

"Bennie's life, please, sir," faltered Blossom.

"Bennie? Who is Bennie?"

"My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for sleeping at his post."

"Oh, yes." Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the papers before him. "I remember. It was a fatal sleep. You see, child, it was at a time of much special danger. Thousands of lives might have been lost for his negligence."

"So my father said," replied Blossom gravely, "but poor Bennie was so tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He did the work of two, sir, and it was Jemmie's night, and not his; but Jemmie was so tired, and Bennie never thought about himself, that he was tired, too."

"What is this you say, child? Come here; I do not understand." And the kind man caught eagerly at what seemed to be justification of an offense.

Blossom went to him. He put his hand tenderly upon her shoulder, and turned up the pale anxious face toward his. How tall he seemed, and he was the President of the United States, too. A dim thought of this kind passed for a moment through Blossom's mind; but she told her simple straightforward story, and handed Mr. Lincoln Bennie's letter to read.

He read it carefully. Then, taking up his pen, wrote a few hasty lines and rang his bell.

Blossom heard the order given, "Send this dispatch at once."

The President then turned to the girl and said, "Go home, my child, and tell that father of yours that Abraham Lincoln thinks the life of his son far too precious to be lost. Go back, or wait Bennie will need a change after he has so bravely faced death; he shall go with you."

"God bless you, sir," said Blossom; and who shall doubt that God heard and registered the request?

Two days after this interview, the young soldier came to the White House with his little sister. He was called into the President's private room, and a stripe was fastened "upon the shoulder." Mr. Lincoln then said, "The soldier that could carry a sick comrade's baggage, and die for the good act so uncomplainingly, deserves well of his country." Then Bennie and Blossom took their way to their Green Mountain home. A crowd gathered at the Mill Depot to welcome them back. As Farmer Owen's hand grasped that of his boy, tears flowed down his cheeks, and he was heard to say fervently, "The Lord be praised!"

In spite of the fact that Bennie had been guilty of a serious error, his guilt was forgiven. His mistake was made because of weakness. His repentance was deep and sincere. It was obvious that saving this young man's life was a safe risk and that the country would be better off with him than it would without him. How God longs to be able to say the same in judgment about each of us! He is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance. He will not, however, take the risk of endangering the security of the universe by saving a person who would bring in sin and sorrow a second time.

Another story, very similar to the one about Bennie and yet very, very different illustrates again the kind of decisions God makes in the judgment when He reviews the record of our lives.

John Hansen faced the judge as he awaited his verdict. He had been charged with breaking the laws of the land. He had been charged with murder. The verdict came. "John Hansen has been found GUILTY of murder!" The death sentence was not long in following.

There was a moment of deathly silence in the courtroom as John sought to maintain his composure. The set jaw and the changing lines on the face of this hardened criminal revealed the bitterness, the hopelessness, and the anger he was experiencing.

Some of the spectators had pity on him as they watched him being led away, but most felt a satisfaction that justice was being done and that a dangerous man would no longer be a menace to society.

There was one, however, who loved John in a special way. He had known him since he was just a child and had watched through his life as his feet had turned gradually and then completely to a life of sin and crime. It was his brother, Howard.

Howard's heart ached. He longed to do something for his brother to help him once more. "If only he had one more chance perhaps he would change and become a productive citizen, " Howard thought.

Hoping against hope, Howard decided to try the impossible. Going to the governor of the state, Howard pleaded for the life of his guilty brother.

The governor listened, but seemed unimpressed. "Howard," he asked him, "what makes you think John would change? He's been in and out so many times, what makes you think this time would be different? How do you know he would really value his pardon? How do you know he would abide by the laws of the land so he can keep out of prison and avoid another death sentence? What guarantee is there that he won't go out and endanger someone else's life?"

Howard's heart sank as he listened to the governor's objections. He knew they were valid. What could he say? In a last attempt to save his brother's life he said, "Governor, if you will write a pardon for my brother, I will take it to him and talk with him personally. I believe I can find out by talking with him whether or not there is any chance that he will change. If not, I give you my word that I will not give him the pardon."

Howard Hansen was a very influential man in that state. Because the state was indebted to him for former services, and because the governor knew and trusted him, the pardon was granted.

With the pardon in his coat pocket, and a note of hope in his heart, Howard went to the state penitentiary. When the two of them were together, he searched John's face intently. John turned away angrily from the penetrating gaze.

"John," Howard asked quietly, "what would you do if you received a pardon?"

John turned back quickly and faced his brother. "I know exactly what I would do," he replied with a determined look in his eye. "The first thing I would do is to track down that judge who sentenced me and murder him. The next thing I would do is to find the chief witness and kill him."

Howard stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. He had his answer. It wasn't the one he wanted. He knew what he had to do. It was the hardest thing he ever did. Slowly, he arose, turned, and walked out of the prison with the pardon still in his pocket.

The pardon was available and within his reach. John could have walked out of that prison, under grace, a free man. But the law that judged him remained unchanged. Further violation would only bring further judgment. The pardon from the governor that could have set him free from the sentence of the law did not give him permission to break the law even once.

Friend, what John Hansen really needed was a new heart, a new life, a conversion experience that would have made him a new man. He needed new motives and new desires before he would ever be a safe citizen.

That is what each of us needs before we can be safe citizens of God's eternal kingdom. Our words and actions reveal whether or not that change has been made in us. As God carefully searches your record and mine. He cannot pass by any evidence that would reveal that we were in heart still in rebellion against Him and His government, but He is also searching longingly for every evidence that our hearts have been changed. He will save everyone that He possibly can.

May God bless you as you seek to better understand the work that God is doing in judgment to save us.

With Love,

From your friends at Steps to Life