A PARABLE OF THE LILY by Ruth Gardner

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 4, 1900

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 26, No. 27.

A PARABLE OF THE LILY.

By Ruth Gardner

ONCE in the beautiful long ago there grew in a quiet garden a group of tall white lilies—seven fair sisters springing from one parent root. In all that garden of flowers they were the loveliest.

The sunshine of love warmed and cherished them, gladdening each passing day. The gentle rain and dew from heaven refreshed them. The rich garden soil nourished and supplied their life. And so they grew and flourished and bloomed in those golden days—tossed by every breeze of enjoyment—innocent and care free, joyous, happy, and beloved.

No shadow of coming danger or sorrow marred the perfect joy of those happy days.

But one dewy morn, before the busy hum of every-day life had begun in the garden, there appeared a magnificent stranger. Of elegant bearing and artful address, he made the rounds of the garden, paying his respects to all the more attractive flowers; then, selecting the queen lily of the family group, he plied his seductive art.

Day by day, by delicate, insinuating flatteries, he wooed the lovely flower, who, unsuspicious of guile, bent her graceful head to listen to all that the charming stranger was pleased to say.

A whisper ran round the garden that the handsome stranger was paying court to the lily, and envious criticism, and nods and gestures of piqued pride, were exchanged among the less-favored flowers. Yet, oblivious to all else save the one object, he advanced deeper and deeper toward the heart of the flower. One by one the outposts of the citadel of her heart were won—the invisible barriers with which God has hedged about the sacred dignity of maidenhood. One by one these defenses were surrendered to the magnetic charm of the wooer, till she yielded up to him the keys of her very being, not without trembling and distress, for her guardian angel had often uttered the “still small voice” of warning, causing her to hesitate and tremble on the verge of a great temptation. But the voice of the tempter was so tender and reassuring—his vows were so eloquent with expressions of love and loyalty, that the fears were soothed; the tempter triumphed, and the guardian angel turned away and wept. For one brief month the seducer lingered, and then he was gone, never to return.

But a blight had fallen on the lovely flower—blasting and mildew and desolation. If a thunderbolt had fallen from a clear sky and riven her to the earth, the ruin could not have been more awful and complete.

Prostrate she lay among her sister flowers, all her snowy petals bruised and stained and defiled in the dust of her humiliation. The gossiping nettle stung and wounded her; the serpent hissed at her. Cruel eyes of scorn mocked her sin and sorrow and pointed the finger of shame at her. Careless feet trampled her in the dust.

But comfort was near the perishing flower. A kind hand lifted the poor ruined one from the dust and whispered of the Life-giver and Healer—the Friend of sinners. The gentle dews of heaven fell upon her prostrate form. The sunshine of God’s love and comfort warmed her into new life, and hope sprang up again in the poor perishing heart.

Out of the ruins of that blasted life sprang up a new and tender hope—a bud of promise that should grow and ripen into a new life in Christ Jesus.

Daily, as she gained courage and faith and trust in the hand that was helping her, she grew, and the beautiful new life unfolded. She saw the world with new eyes. All the precious opportunities—the blessings of life, which before she had so lightly prized or taken as a matter of course, without thanks to the Giver—all the kind and loving counsel of friends she had despised—all the true and deeper meanings of life came into her soul like a new revelation of God’s love, now that her heart was tender and open to the teachings of the Comforter.

How her glad, new spirit goes up in rich fragrance to God, the Author of her being, and now her Saviour, Restorer, and Friend. She has become humble and teachable as a child (Matt. 18:2, 3) who looks to its Father for instruction and help in everything.

At last she stands renewed in the beauty of holiness—a pure white soul in the sight of God, her reproach all washed away in the precious blood of Christ.

Dear reader, whoever you are, have you not already guessed the meaning of this parable?

Jesus, who forgave the woman, “the sinner,” can reach your case, however low you may have fallen. And what He can do for the destroyed He can also do for the destroyer if you seek him as David did, with “a broken and contrite heart,” for forgiveness and cleansing. Will you not this day resolve and pray for a life of purity and holiness through Christ Jesus our Lord?