Running into God’s Arms
The following anecdote is yet another from the pen of C. H. Spurgeon:
“Some years ago I was walking in the garden one evening, and I saw a stray dog about whom I had received information that he was in the habit of visiting my grounds, and that he did not in the least assist the gardener, and therefore his attentions were not desired. As I walked along one Saturday evening meditating upon my sermon, I saw this dog busily doing mischief. I threw my stick at him, and told him to go home. But what do you think he did? Instead of grinding his teeth at me, or hurrying off with a howl, he looked at me very pleasantly, took up my stick in his mouth, and brought it to me and then, wagging his tail, he laid the stick at my feet. The tears were in my eyes; the dog had beaten me. I said, ‘Good dog! Good dog; you may come here when you like after that.’ Why had the dog conquered me? Because he had confidence in me, and would not believe that I could mean him any hurt. To turn to grander things; the Lord himself cannot resist humble confidence. Do you not see how a sinner brings, as it were, the rod of justice to the Lord, and cries, ‘If thou smite me, I deserve it, but I submit to thee.’ The great God cannot spurn a trustful heart. It is impossible. He were no God if he could cast the soul away that implicitly relies on him. This is the power of faith, then, and I marvel not that the Lord should have chosen it, for believing is a thing most pleasing to God. O that you would all trust him! God lifts his sword against you—run into his arms. He threatens you—grasp his promise. He pursues you—fly to his dear Son. Trust at the foot of the cross in his full atonement, and you must be saved.”
“Some years ago I was walking in the garden one evening, and I saw a stray dog about whom I had received information that he was in the habit of visiting my grounds, and that he did not in the least assist the gardener, and therefore his attentions were not desired. As I walked along one Saturday evening meditating upon my sermon, I saw this dog busily doing mischief. I threw my stick at him, and told him to go home. But what do you think he did? Instead of grinding his teeth at me, or hurrying off with a howl, he looked at me very pleasantly, took up my stick in his mouth, and brought it to me and then, wagging his tail, he laid the stick at my feet. The tears were in my eyes; the dog had beaten me. I said, ‘Good dog! Good dog; you may come here when you like after that.’ Why had the dog conquered me? Because he had confidence in me, and would not believe that I could mean him any hurt. To turn to grander things; the Lord himself cannot resist humble confidence. Do you not see how a sinner brings, as it were, the rod of justice to the Lord, and cries, ‘If thou smite me, I deserve it, but I submit to thee.’ The great God cannot spurn a trustful heart. It is impossible. He were no God if he could cast the soul away that implicitly relies on him. This is the power of faith, then, and I marvel not that the Lord should have chosen it, for believing is a thing most pleasing to God. O that you would all trust him! God lifts his sword against you—run into his arms. He threatens you—grasp his promise. He pursues you—fly to his dear Son. Trust at the foot of the cross in his full atonement, and you must be saved.”