JUDGMENT AND WARNING

Toward the end of a warm summer evening, some three hundred years ago, an old-fashioned coach made its way up a steep road in Scotland. The horse-drawn carriage contained two travellers. One was a young man and the other was a kindly middle-aged gentleman. Judging by his clothes, it was clear that he was a minister.

A little farther lay the town of Dunblane, where the pastor planned to preach the next day. Inside the coach, the young man was listening closely to a story the minister was telling about the ways of God with His people.

The story was cut short by a loud cry which shattered the stillness of the evening.

“Shhh, Henry!” exclaimed the minister in a loud whisper. “What was that noise? Stop the horses a minute and I’ll go and see what’s going on.” The minister climbed out of the carriage and looked around. They had reached a crossroad, and a little way down the side road the minister saw a very excited man pointing to what looked like a person lying on the ground.

“Stop! Stop!” cried the man, wringing his hands. “For pity’s sake, sir, help me!”

The minister acted quickly. “Wait here till I get back, Henry. I’m going to see what’s wrong.” He ran over to the man without waiting for Henry’s reply.

The man immediately began thanking the minister for his kindness. He was a tall, muscular man. His worn, mud-spattered shoes, and sturdy walking stick indicated that he had already travelled quite some distance. “Thank you, sir, oh thank you for taking pity on a poor fellow in trouble. It’s very kind of you to help out.”

But the minister had no time to listen to his thanks. He turned his attention to the man on the ground. The deathly pale face was smeared with dirt, and the afflicted man writhed in apparent pain.

“What’s the matter?” asked the pastor, concern in his voice.

“Oh sir, I’ve had the fright of my life!” answered the man. “My friend here suddenly dropped to the ground. I think he’s dying!”

Just then the man on the ground gasped and struggled as if he were exhausted.

“Let’s move him to my carriage,” suggested the minister, bending over the unfortunate man. But as he did so, the man who had shouted for help roughly grabbed the unsuspected pastor. The dying man suddenly became very much alive, brandishing a pistol which he had hidden underneath him. The man who had so profusely thanked the gentleman now cruelly laughed at him. “Alright, hand over your wallet, and be quick about it.”

“Yeah, hurry up,” added his friend. “It’s time for my funeral and I need money for a coffin.” He laughed harshly at his offensive remark and pushed the pistol into the minister’s back.

For a moment the pastor’s face reflected painful surprise, but seeing resistance was useless, he allowed them to search his pockets, all the while praying for God’s protection. Calmly he spoke to the thieves. “My friends, stolen money carries a curse with it. Your ill-timed happiness will end in sorrow. I warn you, change your ways before it is too late.”

One of the men seemed somewhat stirred in his conscience by this sincere admonition. But his companion, who had played the dying man, was entirely unmoved. “Cut out the preachin’, wise guy. We want your money, not your sermons. Now get going, and don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone, or we’ll take care that you never preach again.”

The now penniless pastor strode back to the waiting coach.

“I saw everything,” whispered Henry, “but I thought it would make things worse if I tried to rescue you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t try to rescue me, Henry. Those men would probably have shot us both if you did. But what a shameful setup, to imitate death as a means to achieve their goal. It pains me to see them pursuing their wicked aims. Often they are ruined by these very goals. These thieves are more hardened than most, I believe.”

By this time they had almost reached the top of the hill, and in the valley they could see the church steeple of Dunblane shimmering in the crimson glow of the setting sun. Just at that moment, however, the same cry which had interrupted their journey before, was heard again. Soon the same man came running up to the coach.

“Oh, stop sir!” he shouted. “Please believe me!” he continued in a terror-stricken voice. “It’s really true this time. My friend really is dead. Please stop and help me!”

“Ha! You just want to rob me now,” jeered Henry. “Be satisfied with what you already have. We’re almost in Dunblane, and we’re telling the police right away.”

“Oh no, sir! I’m serious! Honest, I am! I wouldn’t risk being caught in this way if I weren’t.” The man was so obviously terrified that the travellers thought he must be a very good actor if this was not real fear. After a moment’s hesitation, the carriage again came to a halt.

“What’s the matter this time?” demanded the minister.

“Oh sir, please come back! The man whom you saw on the ground really is dead this time. He died right after you left. Oh please come back with me!” He looked anxiously from one traveller to the other as he wiped the perspiration from his damp forehead.

“Perhaps you think I’m easily deceived, Henry, but I’m quite sure that he’s telling the truth. I’d like to see this strange adventure to the end. If you’d rather stay here, I’ll go on alone.”

“No, I’m going with you, no matter what,” stated Henry firmly.

So they returned to the site of the robbery, where they soon discovered that the man was not lying. The body of the robber who had been feigning death lay on the road, his face visibly stamped by the king of terrors. As the minister knelt down to see if he could possibly revive the man, he was struck with awe at the reality of this death. The exact cause of death was unknown to him, but there was no doubt that he was beyond assistance. He had been summoned into eternity almost in the very moment of committing his crime.

“This is a fearful warning, my friend,” said the minister, turning to the surviving robber. The thief, forgetful of the fact that he could easily have been arrested by the travellers, seemed confused and overwhelmed by this shocking experience. “These are the bitter fruits of the life you are leading.”

The robber lowered his gaze under the pastor’s intent look.

“Take back your money, sir,” he stammered, holding out the stolen wallet. “And believe me, I’ll never again steal a penny as long as I live.”

“Don’t trust your own resolutions, my friend,” replied the minister. “You must ask the Lord, who has so clearly shown you His power, to enable you to lead an honest life from now on. Here is something to help you get started,” he added, pressing some money into the man’s still trembling hands. “I hope you will soon find yourself a good job.”

“Thank you, sir! You are very kind to me,” he said softly, and this time his thanks was sincere.

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