Shiloh: the Man of Sorrows by Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Jul 12, 1910

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 37, No. 27.

Shiloh: the Man of Sorrows

By Mrs. L. D. Avery-Stuttle

Chapter XIX.—In the Wilderness

N the meantime, strange and almost tragic are the scenes which are transpiring amid the gloomy and desolate wastes of the wilderness of Judea.

No human eye might witness that struggle upon which even the angels gazed with awe,—that mysterious struggle between the Prince of Light and the prince of darkness; between the Hope of Israel, the Shiloh of Jacob, the Saviour of a doomed and hopeless race, and the accuser of the brethren—Lucifer—once, in the ages gone by, called “Son of the Morning.”

Forty days and as many nights have dragged their cruel hours along, since the mighty Lion of the tribe of Judah left the habitations of those whom He came to save, and, relying only upon the strength of the Eternal, entered this first, fearful battle-ground, to wrestle alone with His mysterious and awful foe.

And what a battle-ground!

Silence profound and unbroken, save for the rush of the dark pinions of the birds of prey, or the shrill scream or angry snarl of the wild beasts. Desolation supreme; a narrow strip of barren country bordering the western shores of the Dead Sea,—that silent cemetery of the buried cities of the plain,—dreary and waste as the arid plains of Luna.

This is the battle-field.

The white limestone hills which rise lonely and bleak here and there, are thickly pierced with dark and unexplored caverns, whose dim entrances are half curtained and draped by the unfriendly and inhospitable fingers of the cactus.

It is night; and the cold face of the moon is partly covered by the changing curtain of dim clouds which scurry through the sky. The dark bodies of rocks and occasional trees cast deep shadows across the entrances of the cave-pierced mountains and hills, from which, ever and anon, cautiously peer the shaggy head and gleaming eyes of the mountain-lion or the sullen bear. Everywhere lie the skeleton bones of the gentle cony; and everywhere upon the craggy rocks, the dark aeries of the eagles are outlined against the dim sky.

Afar toward the northeast, the swollen waters of the turbulent Jordan hurry to rest upon the quiet bosom of the Dead Sea, whose heavy waters lie like a mighty basin of melted brimstone above the heaven-daring and heaven-buried cities of the plain. To the far west toss the blue waters of the Mediterranean.

Close beside yonder rock kneels a Man. The pallid face, haggard and emaciated, is upturned toward heaven. The sympathizing moon looks lovingly upon Him, and caresses the broad brow with her fingers of dim light.

The fearful fast of forty days has told upon the noble form, and the wonderful eyes are deep and sunken.

Suddenly a flash of light sweeps before Him, and the rush of dark pinions hidden by their mask of light is faintly heard.

“Hail, Thou Anointed One! Thy fast is ended!” announces the glib voice of the intruder. “Verily, I would have brought Thee bread from heaven, but so said not the Eternal, from whom I am sent. But surely if Thou be the Son of God, Thou canst cause that this stone be made bread.” Then the dark form, veiled with its false covering of light, stoops, and raises from its bed a grey rock from among its fellows which strew the side of the mountain, and holds it aloft tantalizingly near the pallid face of the Man, who, for the moment, replies not, while the tempter continues:

“Surely Thou art an hungered. These forty days have I watched Thee in this accursed desert, and behold, Thou hast eaten nothing. Now of a truth am I come to tell Thee that this Thy fast is at an end. Heard I not the Voice by the Jordan? and saw I not the Light? Behold, now the Father knoweth that Thou art obedient. He doth but test Thee, like as He tested Abraham,—and now Thy fast is done. Command that this stone be made bread; so shalt Thou eat thereof and be strengthened. For verily I am he who stayed the hand of Abraham in days of old; and I be sent with this commission from Thy Father. So, if Thou be the Son of God, fulfil my words.” And again the stone is held aloft in the mighty hand.

In the Wilderness Where Our Lord Was Tempted. See last page

For an instant the divine One fixes His eyes upon it, while the pale lips move as if in prayer. Then a voice is heard, soft and serene, but firm and unyielding as the rock upon which He kneels:

“Behold, it is written, Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.”

A spasm of astonishment and baffled rage crosses the face of the archfiend. But he has laid his plans well.

“Of a truth then, I perceive that Thou art not the Son of the living God! Him know I well. But Thou—who art Thou? Verily were the Eternal Thy Father, He would not leave Thee thus alone and in sore need; I know Him,—very pitiful and of tender mercy. His name is Love. Behold, Thou art a weakling, and Thy pale countenance betrayeth Thee. What! art Thou He by whose almighty power the worlds were made? Thou the commandant of the hosts of heaven? Ha! verily Thou art as weak as man.”

In an instant the scene changes. Quicker than a flash of light the fiend has borne Him to Jerusalem. The city is already awake, and the busy hum of life is everywhere. Yonder rises the smoke of the morning sacrifice; and companies of white-robed priests with sanctimonious faces and broad phylacteries are entering the sacred temple, while the droning hypocrite chants his morning prayers in the streets.

High up on one of the shining battlements of the temple, stand two forms: the Man of Galilee, upon whose overthrow the powers of hell are bent, and the cunning fiend.

“What! art Thou He who should bruise the serpent’s head?” questions the tempter. “Even from Thy birth the people Thou didst come to save have hated Thee and sought to do Thee harm. But see! by my might have I brought Thee hither. Behold, Thou shalt cast Thyself down from hence, and in so doing prove Thy power; and by this miracle Thou shalt force obedience from Thy people. See, the scribes and Pharisees and rulers are even now gathering about the temple. Quick, while they gaze! Cast Thyself down! For lo, He shall give His angels charge over Thee, to keep Thee in all Thy ways. They shall bear Thee up in their hands, lest at any time Thou dash Thy foot against a stone. Thus saith the Scriptures. And I doubt not that Thou couldst float in air, even as I. What! dost Thou hesitate? Then dost Thou doubt the watchful love and power of the Eternal. Ha! I know Thee now. Long time ago a mighty angel was cast out of heaven,—a rebel angel,—and surely Thou art he! If not, then haste! cast Thyself down; for thereby shalt Thou show Thy Father’s care and Thine own power.”

The archfiend paused. He saw his kingdom hanging in the balance. He saw his power begin to fade, and felt the throne of darkness tremble, as with a majesty and power which was not of earth, the Conqueror made answer:

“It is written, again, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.”

Then, toward a towering mountain peak He is borne by the hoary fiend. In a moment of time, there are spread out before them in vast panorama the kingdoms of earth. Instead of a barren desert, appear fields of living green, cities and palaces and goodly mansions adorned with all the beauties which wealth and earthly power can give.

Then with a wave of his mighty arm, the fiend exclaims:

“Seest Thou my power? All this is mine. But, behold, I will give it Thee, if Thou wilt grant me one small favor: But bend Thy knee to me and worship—small act indeed, and costs Thee naught. And, lo, why shouldst Thou suffer thus for man,—ungrateful worm! Behold, they seek Thy life already. Seest Thou, O Man of Nazareth, Thy puny form compared with mine? I ask Thy worship,—verily it is my due,—Thou canst not grant me less.”

But the voice of the Man sounds forth His divinity, and His eye blazes with celestial fire:

“Get thee behind Me, Satan, for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve.”

Slowly the thin mantle of light faded from the wings of the fiend. A scowl of rage and fury darkened his hateful countenance, and he was gone.

The Conqueror stood alone. The battle was ended.

(To be continued)