“That is Your Fault.” – Dwight Lyman Moody

I remember a mother coming to me and saying, “It is easy enough for you to speak in that way; if you had the burden that I’ve got, you couldn’t cast it on the Lord.” “Why, is your burden so great that Christ can’t carry it?” I asked. “No: it isn’t too great for Him to carry; but I can’t put it on Him.” “That is your fault,” I replied; and I find a great many people with burdens who, rather than just come to Him with them, strap them tighter on their backs and go away struggling under their load. I asked her the nature of her trouble, and she told me. I have an only boy who is a wanderer on the face of the earth. I don’t know where he is. If I only knew where he was I would go around the world to find him. You don’t know how I love that boy. This sorrow is killing me.” “Why can’t you take him to Christ? You can reach Him at the throne, even though he be at the uttermost part of the world. Go tell’ God all about your trouble, and he will take away his sin, and not only that, but if you never see him on earth, God can give you faith that you will see your boy in heaven.” And then I told her of a mother who lived down in the southern part of Indiana. Some years ago her boy came up to this city. He was a moralist. My friends, a man has to have more than morality to lean upon in this great city. He hadn’t been here long before he was led astray. A neighbor happened to come up here and found him one night in the streets drunk.

When that neighbor went home, at first he thought he wouldn’t say anything about it to the boy’s father, but afterward he thought it was his duty to tell him. So in a crowd in the street of their little town he just took the father aside, and told him what he had seen in Chicago. It was a terrible blow. When the children had been put to bed that night he said to his wife, “Wife, I have bad news. I have heard from Chicago today.” The mother dropped her work in an instant and said: “Tell me what it is.” “Well, our son has been seen on the streets of Chicago, drunk.” Neither of them slept that night, but they took their burden to Christ, and about daylight the mother said: “I don’t know how, I don’t know when or where, but God has given me faith to believe that our son will be saved and will never come to a drunkard’s grave.

One week after, that boy left Chicago. He couldn’t tell why —an unseen power seemed to lead him to his mother’s home, and the first thing he said on coming over the threshold was, “Mother, I have come home to ask you to pray for me;” and soon after he came back to Chicago a bright and shining light. If you have a burden like this, fathers, mothers, bring it to Him and cast it on Him, and He, the Great Physician, will heal your broken hearts.