Rutherford is no stranger to me. In fact, back in the eighties when my first husband was writing his master's thesis on Samuel Rutherford, our small apartment was filled with books and notecards devoted to him. Most conversations with Jon somehow involved this Scottish Covenanter, who was invading my space, as only someone else's master's thesis subject can. I hoped that I might not hear his name again during my lifetime, but here was Mr. Rutherford again, this time for some one on one with me.
And I have to say that he and I have become friends. He lived during a time of great political and theological turmoil, when the Scottish Reformed (Covenanters) were being thrown into prison and even executed for being faithful to God's Word. Rutherford, a pastor, was banished from his congregation in Anwoth to Aberdeen for writing and speaking against Arminianism. But this brought about his most famous writings, as he left behind over three hundred letters, most of them during this time of banishment, written to provide pastoral counsel to his beloved congregation.
Rutherford wrote many sermons and treatises, and he was in attendance when the Westminster Assembly wrote its famous Confession. But he is best known for his letters. And in a day and age when most communication is electronic--often in 140 characters or fewer--Rutherford's letters show the value of well-executed, carefully written communication that remains instructive for us today. I wonder how many tweets we'll still be reading five hundred years from now.
This is one of my favorite excerpts from Rutherford's letters, written to comfort a woman who had suffered the deaths of several children:
If your Ladyship is not changed (as I hope you are not), I believe you esteem yourself to be of those whom God has tried these many years and refined as silver. But, Madam, I will show your Ladyship a privilege that others want and you have, in this case. Such as are in prosperity and are fatted with earthly joys and increased with children and friends, though the Word of God is indeed written to such for their instruction, yet to you who are in trouble (spare me, Madam, to say this), from whom the Lord hath taken many children and whom He hath exercised otherwise, there are some chapters, some particular promises in the Word of God, made in a most special manner, which should never have been yours, as they now are, if you had your portion in this life as others. And, therefore, all the comforts, promises, and mercies God offers to the afflicted are as so many love letters written to you. Take them to you, Madam, and claim your right, and do not be robbed. It is no small comfort that God has written some scriptures to you that He has not written to others. You seem in this to be envied rather than pitied; and you are indeed in this, like people of another world and those that are above the ordinary rank of mankind, whom our King and Lord, our Bridegroom Jesus, in His love letter to His well-beloved spouse, has named beside all the rest. He has written comforts and His hearty commendations in Isaiah 54:4–5 and Psalm 147:2–3 to you. Read these and the like, and think your God is like a friend that sends a letter to a whole house and family but speaks in His letter to some by name that are dearest to Him in the house. You are, then, Madam, of the dearest friends of the Bridegroom. If it were lawful, I would envy you, that God honored you so above many of His dear children. Therefore, Madam, your part is, in this case (seeing God takes nothing from you but that which He is to supply with His own presence), to desire your Lord to know His own room and take it even upon Him to come in, in the room of dead children. “Jehovah, know Thy own place and take it to Thee,” is all you have to say.
Madam, I persuade myself that this world is to you a strange inn, and you are like a traveler who has his bundle upon his back and his staff in his hand and his feet upon the door-threshold. Go forward, honorable and elect lady, in the strength of your Lord (let the world bide at home and keep the house), with your face toward Him who longs more for a sight of you than you can do for Him. Before long, He will see us. I hope to see you laugh as cheerfully after noon as you have mourned before noon. The hand of the Lord, the hand of the Lord be with you in your journey. What have you to do here? This is not your mountain of rest. Arise, then, and set your foot up the mountain; go up out of the wilderness, leaning upon the shoulder of your Beloved (Song 8:5). If you knew the welcome that waits for you when you come home, you would hasten your pace; for you shall see your Lord put up His own holy hand to your face and wipe all tears from your eyes; and I believe, then you shall have some joy of heart.
