Wakefield

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  “In some old magazine or newspaper I recollect a story, told as truth, of a man—let us call him Wakefield—who absented himself for a long time from his wife. The fact, thus abstractedly stated, is not very uncommon, nor, without a proper distinction of circumstances, to be condemned either as naughty or nonsensical. Howbeit, this, though far from the most aggravated, is perhaps the strangest instance on record of marital delinquency, and, moreover, as remarkable a freak as may be found in the whole list of human oddities. The wedded couple lived in London. The man, under pretense of going a journey, took lodgings in the next street to his own house, and there, unheard of by his wife or friends and without the shadow of a reason for such self-banishment, dwelt upward of twenty years. During that period he beheld his home every day, and frequently the forlorn Mrs. Wakefield. And after so great a gap in his matrimonial felicity—when his death was reckoned certain, his estate settled...

thinking about: Isaiah 53:4-6

Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.”

Spurgeon was right . . . we are just too busy. We would really like to spend time thinking about it, perhaps weeping over it, but business calls, duty demands, a promise we made to someone somewhere must be fulfilled—just can’t think about it NOW. We’ll come back to it later, maybe tonight. If not then, then later for certain or perhaps another day.

“Believer in Jesus,” Spurgeon writes, “can you gaze upon Him without tears, as He stands before you the mirror of agonizing love?”

Spurgeon even tells himself, “My soul, stand here and weep over His poor stricken body.”

Yes. Stand here and gaze. Sit there and weep.

I won’t write any more so you don’t read any more. So we can go back and gaze . . .

and weep.

There is time.

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