WHICH SON ARE YOU?

Up in the mountains of North Carolina lived a farmer who had a small farm with thin soil where, by hard work, he was barely able to make a living for himself, his wife and son. The son, however, was a remarkably bright boy and easily surpassed all the other boys in the district school. One day the father said to the mother, "Our son is a natural born scholar and even if he is only a poor farmer's son, he shall have as good an education as a millionaire's son." The father and mother economized and raked and scraped and got enough together to send the boy off to College. The boy did well at College, and every little while sent a letter home telling how well he was doing in his classes. When these letters came the father and mother would read and reread them, and their hearts were filled with joy! One day a letter came and after the father had read it, he said, "Mother, these letters are all right. They do cheer my old heart, but letters are not enough. My heart is lonely for the boy and I must see the boy himself. I cannot wait. I must see him!" But the mother was a canny woman and said, "You must wait. You cannot see him. He cannot afford to lose a day from his studies to come down here, and you cannot lose a day from the farm to go and see him. You must wait." The father said, "I must see him. I cannot stand it any longer. I must see my boy. I have a plan. I'll load up the old farm wagon this afternoon and get up before sunrise tomorrow and drive to town and sell my load and make enough to pay expenses to see my boy. I cannot stand it any longer. I must see him." That afternoon the farmer loaded the wagon, went to bed with the chickens, got up early in the morning before sunrise, hitched up the old team and started for the College town. It was a long, tedious journey, but it did not seem long to the farmer, for he was going to see his boy! As he drove along he would chuckle to himself, "I will soon see my boy. Won't he be glad to see me? He thinks I am at home on the farm. Won't he be surprised when I walk into his room? Won't he be glad?" Every hour of his dreary journey as he drew nearer to the College, his heart grew lighter and happier. At last as he drew near the town he said, "I am almost there. In a little while now I will see my boy. Won't he be surprised? Won't he be glad?" As he entered the town he tried to hurry the old team forward, but to no avail as the team was tired and could not go any faster. As he drove up the hill towards the College, who should he see coming down the sidewalk but his boy with two friendly young College companions. "There he comes! There he comes!" said the old man. "Won't he be surprised to see me? Won't he be glad?" He whipped up the team, but it could not go any faster, they were tired out. He jumped off the wagon and ran up to his boy who had not seen him. "My son," he cried. His son was surprised, but was not glad. He was ashamed of his father in his plain old homespun clothes before his College companions. "There must be some mistake, sir," he said. "I am not your son, you are not my father. I do not know you. There must be some mistake, sir." He might as well have driven a dagger into his father's heart. I am told that the father went home with a broken heart to die. Whether that part of the story is true I cannot say, but I can well believe it. If my son should treat me that way (thank God he never will), I think it would break my heart. What do you think of a son like that? I think he should be horsewhipped. The cowardly, ungrateful wretch! But stop before you condemn him. Some of you are even more ungrateful than that son! JESUS CHRIST has done more for you than that father did for his son. JESUS CHRIST has done more for you than any father ever did for his son. Yet you are so cowardly and ungrateful that you won't stand up and confess Him before the world, because you are afraid of what someone will say. You are ashamed of Him! I have never told this story without its making my blood boil, although I suppose I have told it over one hundred times. Let me tell you another true story. Thank God it is entirely different. In the mountains of Georgia lived a poor widow. She had a few acres of ground where she grew berries and made a little money keeping chickens and selling eggs. She also took in washing and did other humble work for a living, but God gave her a bright son. He too surpassed every one in the district school. The mother worked hard to get the money to send him to Emory College. The son worked hard to get himself through College. He graduated with high honours and won a gold medal for special excellence in study. When the time came for him to graduate, he went to the mountain home for his mother, and said, "Mother, you must come down and see me graduate." "No," said his mother, "I have nothing fit to wear, and you would be ashamed of your poor old mother before all those grand people." "Ashamed of you?" he said, with eyes filled with filial love. "Ashamed of you, Mother? Never. I owe everything I am to you and you must come! What is more I will not graduate unless you come." Finally she yielded. When Graduation Day came, she went with him in her plain calico dress with her neat but faded shawl and simple mountain bonnet. He tried to take her down the middle aisle where the richest people of the town, friends of the graduating class, sat. But this she refused and insisted on sitting in the farthest corner under the gallery. The son went up on the platform and delivered his graduation address. He was handed his diploma and received his gold medal. No sooner had he received the gold medal than he walked down from the platform, all the way to where his mother sat, and pinned the gold medal on her faded shawl. He said, "Mother, this belongs to you! You earned it!" That is a son worth having! Which of those two sons are you like - the cowardly, ungrateful wretch, ashamed of his poor old father, or the noble boy who was proud of his poor mother to whom he owed all he had become in the world? I have been told by the President of the College where this had happened that when the boy pinned that gold medal on his mother's shawl, the whole audience burst into such prolonged applause that the ceremony could not proceed for five minutes! You would want to applaud too! Let me tell you a better way to applaud: IMITATE HIM! You owe all you are to JESUS CHRIST. Come, pin all your honours upon Him today. Come out and confess Him before the whole world! - RA Torrey (1856-1928), an American evangelist, pastor, educator, and writer.