Two Chinese Brothers
The story you are about to read is true...
Two brothers lived in San Francisco’s China Town at the turn of the century; they were identical twins. In fact, they were so identical that to look at them, you couldn’t tell one from the other. Although there was virtually no difference in their appearance, there was great difference in their life styles. The only way anyone could tell them apart was by their behavior. While the one brother was hard working and lived virtuously, the other was a drunkard and rabble-rouser. The former worked hard every day, was always reliable and a man of good reputation; the latter would carouse all night and sleep all day.
One night, the good brother awoke from his sleep hearing a commotion in the dark of his room. By the time he could light a lamp, he was alone. Looking about the room, he found a pile of bloody clothing lying on the floor...clothes he recognized as his brother’s.
He felt safe in assuming that his brother was reasonably unharmed since he was able to make such a quick exit. Still, knowing his brother as he did, he quickly deduced that he had probably gotten into a drunken brawl and hurt someone seriously, perhaps even killing someone. That would explain why he had changed the bloody clothes and ran away so quickly. Surely the police were hot on his trail.
The good brother thought fast. What was he to do? Sure, his brother was mean and useless, but he loved him dearly and feared for what would happen when justice caught up with him.
Suddenly, a desperate idea came to his mind. He quickly removed his nightshirt, put on the bloody clothes his brother had left on the floor and sat down on the chair waiting for the arrival of the authorities. When they arrived, they saw the good brother sitting calmly wearing the blood soaked clothes of his murderous brother. Assuming he was the guilty party, and without a dissenting word from him, the police arrested him taking him to jail.
At the end of the trial, the judge pronounced sentence upon him...death. Yet, through the entire ordeal, the good brother never opened his mouth to proclaim his innocence, but continued to quietly allow everyone to believe he was one who was guilty. Soon, the sentence was carried out; he was hanged on the gallows and no one was the wiser.
Some months later, the other brother, who had been in hiding out of state believing himself still wanted by the law, heard the tragic news of mistaken identity and of the subsequent death of his brother. He was horrified and hurriedly returned to San Francisco to search out the presiding judge at his brother’s trial...the trial that should have been his trial. He found the judge and with tear-soaked eyes and a broken heart, admitted his own guilt and told of the bloody clothes and how his brother must have taken his place and that he had known nothing of the trial and most of all, how he was the one who deserved to die...not his brother!
This was a tough one for the judge. The good brother had given no hint of the truth...the truth that he had taken the place of his wicked brother. It was, of course, too late to right the wrong. What should he do with the man now standing before him confessing to a crime that another man had already died for? The judge would have to think long and hard on this one.
After some lengthy deliberation and great mental anguish, the judge returned with his decision. A man had been murdered; the murderer had escaped; he had escaped because another man had taken his place; there was no way to bring the innocent back to life. As the judge saw it, there was only once decision to make... his ruling..."I’m sorry,” he told the grieving brother, “but I cannot make two men pay for the same crime.” Then immediately set him free.
Did Christ do any less for you and I?
Isaiah 53:5 “But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”
Two brothers lived in San Francisco’s China Town at the turn of the century; they were identical twins. In fact, they were so identical that to look at them, you couldn’t tell one from the other. Although there was virtually no difference in their appearance, there was great difference in their life styles. The only way anyone could tell them apart was by their behavior. While the one brother was hard working and lived virtuously, the other was a drunkard and rabble-rouser. The former worked hard every day, was always reliable and a man of good reputation; the latter would carouse all night and sleep all day.
One night, the good brother awoke from his sleep hearing a commotion in the dark of his room. By the time he could light a lamp, he was alone. Looking about the room, he found a pile of bloody clothing lying on the floor...clothes he recognized as his brother’s.
He felt safe in assuming that his brother was reasonably unharmed since he was able to make such a quick exit. Still, knowing his brother as he did, he quickly deduced that he had probably gotten into a drunken brawl and hurt someone seriously, perhaps even killing someone. That would explain why he had changed the bloody clothes and ran away so quickly. Surely the police were hot on his trail.
The good brother thought fast. What was he to do? Sure, his brother was mean and useless, but he loved him dearly and feared for what would happen when justice caught up with him.
Suddenly, a desperate idea came to his mind. He quickly removed his nightshirt, put on the bloody clothes his brother had left on the floor and sat down on the chair waiting for the arrival of the authorities. When they arrived, they saw the good brother sitting calmly wearing the blood soaked clothes of his murderous brother. Assuming he was the guilty party, and without a dissenting word from him, the police arrested him taking him to jail.
At the end of the trial, the judge pronounced sentence upon him...death. Yet, through the entire ordeal, the good brother never opened his mouth to proclaim his innocence, but continued to quietly allow everyone to believe he was one who was guilty. Soon, the sentence was carried out; he was hanged on the gallows and no one was the wiser.
Some months later, the other brother, who had been in hiding out of state believing himself still wanted by the law, heard the tragic news of mistaken identity and of the subsequent death of his brother. He was horrified and hurriedly returned to San Francisco to search out the presiding judge at his brother’s trial...the trial that should have been his trial. He found the judge and with tear-soaked eyes and a broken heart, admitted his own guilt and told of the bloody clothes and how his brother must have taken his place and that he had known nothing of the trial and most of all, how he was the one who deserved to die...not his brother!
This was a tough one for the judge. The good brother had given no hint of the truth...the truth that he had taken the place of his wicked brother. It was, of course, too late to right the wrong. What should he do with the man now standing before him confessing to a crime that another man had already died for? The judge would have to think long and hard on this one.
After some lengthy deliberation and great mental anguish, the judge returned with his decision. A man had been murdered; the murderer had escaped; he had escaped because another man had taken his place; there was no way to bring the innocent back to life. As the judge saw it, there was only once decision to make... his ruling..."I’m sorry,” he told the grieving brother, “but I cannot make two men pay for the same crime.” Then immediately set him free.
Did Christ do any less for you and I?
Isaiah 53:5 “But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.”
posted by The Preacher's Kid | 1:21 PM
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