Andrew Fuller story

Because we live in an age of advanced medical technology and resources, we do not experience many of the trials and tribulations that previous generations experienced. This is a good thing in many ways. But it is also a bad thing...at least in one way: today, we tend to forget that life is fleeting; we tend to think that we will live forever; and, as a result, we tend to have our priorities out of whack--we're not as sensitive toward matters of eternal life and death.

I came across a story about the sufferings of Andrew Fuller, and I wanted to share them with you. Fuller's sufferings served to remind him that this life was not the cat's meow, that this life paled into insignificance in terms of eternity, and that he needed to do business with God for the state of his soul. Here is his story as written by F.W. Boreham in A Bunch of Everlastings:

"During the years that followed [his conversion to Christianity], Andrew Fuller had his full share of trouble. Whilst he lay ill in one room, his daughter, a little girl of six, died in the room adjoining.

'I heard a whispering,' he says, 'and then all were silent. All were silent! But all is well. I feel reconciled to God. I called my family around my bed. I sat up and prayed with them as well as I could. I bowed my head and worshipped a taking as well as a giving God!'

Some time afterwards, Mrs. Fuller lost her reason. In her frenzy she fancied that he was not her husband, but an imposter, who had entered the house and taken all that belonged to her. She regarded him as her bitterest enemy and made every effort to escape. She had to be watched night and day. Just before her death, however, a sudden calm stole over her. 'I was weeping,' Mr. Fuller says, 'and the sight of my tears seemed to awaken her recollection. Fixing her eyes upon me, she exclaimed, "Why, are you indeed my husband?" "Indeed, my dear, I am!" She then drew near and kissed me several times. My heart dissolved with a mixture of grief and joy. Her senses were restored, and she talked as rationally as ever.' A fortnight later she laid a little child in the father's arms and then passed quietly away.

Then again, his eldest boy proved wayward and gave him serious trouble. He ran away to sea. It was reported that, as a result of a misadventure, he had received three hundred lashes, and had died under the punishment. 'Oh,' cried the father, when he heard of it, 'this is heart trouble! My boy, my boy! He cried and I heard him not! O Absalom! my son! my son! Would God I had died for thee, my son, my son!'

It turned out, however, that the rumour was false. Robert was still alive, and the letters that his father wrote him are among the tenderest and most persuasive in our literature. There is every reason to believe that their pleadings had the effect that the father most desired. 'I was exceedingly intimate with Robert,' wrote a shipmate long afterwards. 'We freely opened our minds to each other. He was a very pleasing youth and became a true Christian man.' The news of his death, however, was a terrible blow to Mr. Fuller. On the Sunday following its reception, he broke down completely in the pulpit, and the whole congregation wept with him.

But, through all the clash of feeling and the tumult of emotion, the bells were ringing under the sea....'Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest!'

That rest was never broken. When he lay dying at the last, he called Dr. Ryland to receive his final testimony. 'I have no other hope of salvation,' he said, 'than through the atonement of my Lord and Saviour. With this hope I can go into eternity with composure.'

'I will give you rest!'

'I will go into eternity with composure!'

Rest! Composure! So steadfastly was the promise kept to the very, very last!"

Enjoy! And let us follow his example, fixing our faith upon Christ to the end.