September, 194U
T H E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
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When a Preacher Sins By A FORMER MINISTER
S AVED by His grace, called to the ' ministry, trained in three excellent schools, blessed of God in evan gelistic and teaching work—:I have been spared, after years of wandering from God, to shout from the housetops that sin, permitted to dwell in the heart of a believer, will become a devouring mon ster, creating an inner torment that no unregenerate person can know. Active zeal in Christian work is no guarantee of a holy life. A lot of preach ers are up in theory but down in prac tice. They may call themselves “funda mentalists” ; but their trafficking in un experienced truth will put them on the toboggan that will catapult them into an abyss tof ruin. I have learned by bit ter experience that trying to preach to others about sin, when one is not thor ough in dealing with his own, simply won’t work. For thirty years I have known the reality of the conscious presence of the Spirit of God. During my years of wandering from Him, I have felt His presence again and again and have seen the sad eyes of Christ looking straight at me. Responding to Christ’ s Call Christ took me in at an evangelistic meeting in a small eastern city. I had been a sailor in the United States Navy. I made a bet with one of my wild bud dies that I could attend the service and give the preacher plenty of trouble. But this God-enthused preacher wielded the Sword of the Spirit so effectively that he cut me to pieces the first night. I believe I was bom again. I heard the call to preach. With fifteen dollars to my name, I went to a Bible school, then took the
boss over p e o p l e who lived more like animals than hu man beings. I grew mean, hostile, and antisocial, b u t a t heart I was sin- sick, wretched be yond expression. In eighteen years of such wanderings
• Just a tract—given by a student of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles. B u t G od u s e d it mightily.
prescribed course at a second s i m i l a r school, and part of t h e c o u r s e a t a third. I started in Chris tian work in a ru ral church at six hundred dollars a year. Larger tasks were given to me.
in the far country, I have been through fire and flood. Hurricanes thrice swept away my every belonging. I have seen bloody fights and an occasional killing. I have been in train wrecks, have seen men tom and killed by circus lions, timers, and other beasts. I have wit nessed drunicten brawls ending in blood, race riots, and tragedies of all kinds. Re peatedly I was left utterly limp and sick at heart, longing for the peace I once had known. But remorse is not re pentance. Through all the years of groveling in the dark haunts of sin, I never have been without an inner witness that I was a prodigal under the rod of chas tisement, constantly under the watchful eye of a yearning heavenly Father. Again and again He snatched me from the very jaws of death, and each time I knew He was giving me one more chance to say “yes” to Him. Sin, a Hateful Guest Let me tell you, Mr. Christian Worker, that when sin gets into the heart of a believer, it is a hateful guest. There is nothing more expensive in this world than SIN, especially when it is in one yriio has the light of God’s Word, and who tries to keep his hold upon it. Sin may promise everything, but it takes all in the end.
Soon I was in evangelistic fields and on the Chautauqua platform in the sum mers. My young wife and son had the benefits of a town home and a country estate which had been the former sum mer home of the president of a large corporation. To try me, God permitted us to have all the accessories of a com fortable life. Yielding to Sin Then I gave a corner to SIN. Within a few short years, home, friends, money, character, comforts, and even self-re spect were gone. My wife divorced me and had my son’s n a m e c h a n g e d . Broken, ragged, dirty, I hit the road as a common tramp, begging at Mexican section shacks along the railroads. I was beaten up by railroad “bulls.” Many a time I sent up a prayer from my lonely heart that God would help me. Pressure would be released. I would find a small job and would make a feeble start toward decency, when along would come my besetting sin. Back to the “jungles” I would go, living on stuff rescued from city dumps. Finally I got work herding mobs for mob scenes in the movies and placed hundreds of shiftless men fdfc such ap pearances. Then I went to the circus world as a
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