AFRAID OF A SHADOW by Margaret J. Preston

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, Cal. · Dec 8, 1887

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 13, No. 47.

AFRAID OF A SHADOW.

By Margaret J. Preston

MARGARET J. PRESTON, in the Christian Intelligencer, gives the following incident, as told by a Scotch clergyman whom she heard recently at Torquay, in England:—

“I was sitting in my study one Saturday evening, when a message came to me that one of the godliest among the shepherds who tended their flocks upon the slopes of our highland hills was dying, and wanted to see the minister. Without loss of time I crossed the wide heath to his comfortable little cottage. When I entered the low room I found the old shepherd propped up with pillows, and breathing with such difficulty that it was apparent he was near his end.

‘Jean,’ he said to his wife, ‘gie the minister a stool and leave us for a bit, for I wad see the minister alone.’”

“As soon as the door had closed he turned the most pathetic pair of gray eyes upon me I had ever looked into, and said, in a voice shaken with emotion, ‘Minister, I am dying, and—and—I’m afraid!’

“I began at once to repeat the strongest promises with which God’s word furnishes us; but in the midst of them he stopped me—

“‘I ken them a,’ he said mournfully, ‘I ken them a’; but somehow they dinna gie me comfort.’

“‘Do you not believe them?’

“‘Wi’ a’ my heart!’ he replied earnestly.

“‘Where, then, is there any room for fear, with such a saving faith?’

“‘For a’ that, minister, I’m afraid—I’m afraid!’

“I took up the well-worn Bible which lay on his bed and turned to the psalm which I have read to you to-day. ‘You remember the twenty-third psalm?’ I began.

“‘Remember it?’ he said vehemently, ‘I kenned it lang afore ye were born; ye need na’ read it; I’ve conned it a thousand times on the hill-side.’

“‘But there is one verse which you have not taken in.’

“He turned upon me with a half reproachful and even stern look. ‘Did I na’ tell ye I kenned it every word lang afore ye were born?’

“I slowly repeated the verse, ‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.’

‘You have been a shepherd all your life, and you have watched the heavy shadows pass over the valleys and over the hills, hiding for a little while all the light of the sun. Did these shadows ever frighten you?’

“‘Frighten me?’ he said quickly, ‘Na, na! Davie Donaldson has Covenanter’s bluid in his veins; neither shadow nor substance could weel frighten him.’

“‘But did these shadows never make you believe that you would not see the sun again—that it was gone forever?’

‘Na, na, I couldna be sic a simpleton as that.’

‘Nevertheless, that is just what you are doing now.’ He looked at me with incredulous eyes.

‘Yes,’ I continued, ‘the shadow of death is over you, and it hides for a little the Sun of Righteousness, who shines all the same behind it; but it’s only a shadow; remember, that’s what the psalmist calls it; a shadow that will pass, and when it has passed, before you will be the everlasting hills in their unclouded glory.’

‘The old shepherd covered his face with his trembling hands, and for a few minutes maintained an unbroken silence; then, letting them fall straight before him on the coverlet, he said, as if musing to himself, ‘Aweel, aweel! I hae conned that verse a thousand times amang the heather, and I never understood it so afore—afraid of a shadow! afraid of a shadow!’ Then, turning upon me a face now bright with an almost supernatural radiance, he exclaimed, lifting his hands reverently to Heaven, ‘Aye, aye, I see it a’ now! Death is only a shadow—a shadow with Christ behind it—a shadow that will pass—na, na, I’m afraid nae mair!’”