1943 ■ ■ ■ ■
Official Organ of THE BIBLE INSTITUTE OF LOS ANGELES, Incorporated
"For unto you is bor . • . a Saviour, which i Christ the Lord."
Œ f j e J î e t o ; C r u ô a b ê > o n g ô ; r s > a b e | S 3 £ t and Missionary i C onven tions. 107 n um b ers including many popular cho- I ruses. A new book, ideal and inexpensive. Covers in two colors; reinforced manila bind- j ing. 15c each; $12.50 ahundred.
W hy not give a book of Christm as C arols instead of G reeting C ards? This fascinating book con tains valuable data on the origin and use of 63 Christ mas customs and symbolsl Complete words and music of 57 carols and songs. Hand somely bound in BLUE. AND SILVER cover. 25c each, $2.50 doz. postpaid. ORDER NOW! The Rodeheaver Hall-Mack Co. 119 9 St., Winona Lake, Ind.
‘ ‘W e 1 c o m e , Tracts- For- Serv ice-Men!” You’ll help b r in g lost m en to C h rist. You’ll strengthen and. e n co u ra g e m a n y a m a n whose faith has begun to lag. You are one .o f the most outstanding pieces of litera ture that a a*e being made avail able to service men. Y o u are fast becoming a universal winner of souls.” CHAP LAINS! You are urged to write for gospel tracts canvas tract
Returnable sample copies will be furnished. FREE! (1) Catalog of sound religious books, or (2) of Sunday School papers and quarterlies. CHRISTIAN PUBLICATIONS, Inc. 1507 N. Third St. Harrisburg', Pa.
Chaplain N. E. Hodges free shipments .of the timely listed below, also 15 pocket holders.
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KEEP ’EM FLYING An eight-page t r a c t calling for national repentance, colorfully illustrated. Has been broadcast to America as a public service by Mutual Network. “ We find by observation the men seem to like these tracts better than any others of our selection. God is using this method to bring many an un saved boy to the Lord Jesus/’ Chaplain J. E. Berkstresser. REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR Three colorful, convicting chapters—“ Re member Pearl Harbor,” “ Remember Cal vary,” “ Have You Forgotten?” “ Y.our little booklets are read with enthusiasm by the boys here at the field.” Chaplain T. M. Carter. THEY LIVE FOREVER A dynamic message on the New Birth illustrated by testimony of Colin Kelly. “ Only eternity will reveal how vital have been these noble tracts.” Chaplain A. Von Schlichten. OUR FIRST FRONT Colorfully illustrated with the flags of the United Nations. A call to the Allies to turn to God. “ I have just finished reading ‘Our First Front,’ ‘Plasma,’ and ‘Invasion/ They make very plain God's way of salva tion; that is the crying need, of today.” Chaplain Z. B. Chambless. FOR THE DURATION A soul-winning message on Eternity. “ Of the tons of literature available to Chaplains for distribution among men under their min istry, there is nothing in my opinion, /save the blessed Word, that quite compares with your tract ministry.” Chaplain W. Goldea*. OTHER TIMELY TRACTS “ The Story of Redemption.” “ America Bless God.” “ Conquest.” “ T. N. T.” “ Who’s Who?” “ Morale,” “ Your Chaplain Speaks,” etc., etc. “ You may be sure that your in terest in the spiritual welfare of men in uniform is deeply appreciated.” Office of Chief o f Chaplains, Gen. Wm. Arnold, War Department. ATTENTION CHRISTIANS Join this ministry of evangelizing the armed forces of America and her Allies. No tracts are sold. You are invited to help financially in shipping these tracts by the millions to military centers at home and overseas. Write for free samples and en close your gift towards “ Chaplains’ Fund.” Worldwide Monthly Tract Club P. O. Box I Spokane I, Washington U. S. A.
Retired now . . .
but stalwart in the faith He has lived seventy-five years in a changing world, building his life on the Word of God. And even now he’s still growing spiritually. He says . . . "I enjoyed your course very much. It makes the foundation on which my all is built much stronger in my mind” No matter how old or young you are, you always profit by knowing your Bible. Write for information about the course, Fundamentals of Christian Faith. Address Dept. K-814
A President * of the United States once called the Holy Bible “ The Rock of Our Republic” And so it is, especially today when men’s and women’s souls are tried by the fire of war. In every war that America has fought, since 1848, the American Bible Society has sup plied Bibles, New Testaments and portions of the Scriptures to men in the Armed Forces wherever they may be. This is a noble work and it MUST GO ON! To further this work money is needed. Re member—only $1.®° will give New Testaments to six of our boys. Better still, why not buy an American Bible Society Annuity Agreement? These Agree ments afford as high as 7% on money under a plan which has never failed to make prompt payments in over 100 years of the Society’s activities. Why not investigate this plan for Christian giving at once! Send for the booklet A Gift That Lives!’ ^President Andrew Jackson S_E_N_D_Jjt_E_CO_U_PO_N _N_0W □ Please send me, without obligation, your booklet KB-40 entitled “ A Gift That Lives!’ □ I enclose $-----------... to provide Testaments for our boys Name ............................................................. Address .......................................................... City .................................... State. American Bible Society, Bible House, New York, N . Y .
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JacA ecL 3Lfiioxf
FO R SOPRANOS AND ALTO S While the men are at war, more women will do the singing. This new book con tains musical arrangements that are well within the range ofthe average group ofwomen's voices. 48pages, octavo size, printed on good clear paper from large plates, bound in fine cardboard binding. Price only 60c each. Order today.
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"I Changed My Mind on Good 1
We sent some Christmas money to a number of Jewish Christian refugee boys. One of the “thank you” letters was so revealing of the tragic psychology into which some of these suffering Jews are being driven that we .think you will want to read at least a few sentences: To make clear my apprecia tion concerning the gift, I want to describe in short, a few words,—my Christmas. When Christmas vacation began, the students of my school apart themselves, many went home, others went to friends, also the 'poor Russian boys have.friends whei'a to gt>, and to spend their vacation time in happiness; and the Jewish . . . This made me think . . how is about the Jew ish? Having no .family, no friends. So that I have not to expect of somebody any friendly word, because nobody cares about Jews, or maybe Christmas doesn’t belong to me. However I have to spend my time during Christmas vacation in loneli ness. And when I opened your letter . . . And of course 1 changed my mind on good. “Nobody cares about Jews!” But the dear brother found that he was wrong, and so he says, "1 changed my mind on good!” Some body did care. You who read these lines, you care, and thou sands of others of the Lord’s choicest children, they care, and they send us their heart prayers, and their money, and with their money we come to grips with this terrible condition of Jewish star vation, heartache and agony of soul, the world over. So, When you become a partner with us, you are a sharer in that ministry that touches God’s people Israel at the point of their desperate need. And all of this for the purpose of glorifying the Lord Jesus Christ, and making His name known. If the Lord so leads you, we will wel come your fellowship in such a worldwide and vitally important ministry for these last days. AMERICAN BOARD OF MISSIONS TO THE JEWS 81 Throop Avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y. 1 do want to help the Jews. Here is $................. :. Use it as God directs, to make known the saving power of the Lord Jesus Christ to Israel. Name ____ _______________ Address _________ _______________ City------------- ¡__ State___________
The Official Organ of THE BIBLE INSTITUTE OF LOS ANGELES, Inc. VUnto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood’* (Rev. 1:5). THE KING'S BUSINESS yU
The True-to-the-Bible Family Magazine TABLE OF CONTENTS Cover Photograph by Harold M. Lambert
.Arolund the King’s Table —Louis T . Talbot...................... ........................... 442 Joyful and Triumphant —Meredith C a rr _________ __________________,„....444 j I Lived Seventy Miles from the Japanese Line — Charles A. Roberts ...'.....446 Krismus G if’— Julia Lake Kellersberger ...............,..................... ..................449 Dr. Talbot’s Question Box ____...___............._____________ ...._____________451 Bjble Institute Family Circle............. ........ ........... .............................................451 Junior King’s Business— Martha S. H ook er _______ ______ .:.......... .............453 International Lesson Commentary......... ...................................1...................... 455 Notes on Christian ^Endeavor— Carlton C. Buck, Bertha H . Pentney, Lorraine Coffman Austin, Ralph M . Hetrick, Anita Fletcher ............ 468 Daily Devotional Readings ........... '... .......... ..................... 1.......... ...................... 473 - Our Literature Table ........ ................. ................... ...____ .............................. 477 SUBSCRIPTION INFORMATION—“ The King’s Business” is published monthly: $1.00, one yr . ; $1.50, two yrs. ; 50 cents, six months: 10 cents, single copy. Clubs of three or more at special rates. Write for details. Canadian and for eign subscriptions 25 cents extra. It requires one month for a change of ad dress to become effective. Please send both old and new addresses. REMITTANCE—Payable in advance, should be made by bank draft, express or post office money order payable to “ The King’s Business.” Date of expiration will show plainly on outside wrapper or cover of magazine. ADVERTISING—For information, address the Advertising Manager, 558 South Hope Street, Los Angeles 13, Calif., or our eastern representative, Religious Press Association, 51 No. 52nd St., Philadelphia, Pa. MANUSCRIPTS—“ The King’s Business” cannot accept responsibility for loss or damage to manuscripts sent in for consideration. Entered as second-class matter November 7, 1938, at the Post' Office at Los Angeles, California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Acceptance for mailing at special rate of postage provided for in the Act of February 28, 1925, embodied in paragraph 4, section 538, P. L. and R., authorized October 1, 1918, and November 13, 1938. ADDRESS: The King’s Business, 558 So. Hope St., Los Angèles 13, Calif. LOUIS T. TALBOT, Editor-m-Chief MILDRED M. COOK, Managing Editor RANSOM D. MARVIN, Staff Artist. •~, ____ _____ /.
TH E K I N G ’ S B U S I NE S S
Around the King's Table
LOU IS T . TA LBO T, Editor-In-Chi
always get into trouble then. Today, more than ever before, there are many ‘flying blind,’ not because they have to, but because they will not accept the most perfect and wonderful Gift that our heavenly Father has given to eyery one who will accept and be lieve.” Torrey Memorial Bible Conference Eight wonderful days—January 23 through 30, 1944—are being planned for the Ninth Annual Torrey Memorial Bible Conference. Centering in the fun damentals of the faith that were be lieved and taught by Reuben Archer Torrey, the first Dean of the Bible In stitute of Los Angeles, and by others of the early leaders of the school, these days will be rich in spiritual blessing, demonstrating the fact of a Christ-centered ministry throughout the years. Among the speakers on the program are Walter Lewis Wilson, M. D., the beloved physician, and Soul-winner whose ministry is countrywide; Her bert Lockyer, well-known in England and America as a Bible expositor and author; Jack Mitchell, whose gift of Bible teaching has helped thousands of hearers; Archer E. Anderson, versatile pastor and youth leader from Duluth, Minn., besides many other speakers local to Los Angeles. If you can attend these meetings, by all means plan to do so. Even if you
of the U. S. Army, who wrote the following meditation: “While flying on instruments one day,” he explained, “it came to me how much this experience was like our life. • .In this kind of flying, you are under a hood,-so that you cannot see the hori zon; as a matter of fact, you cannot see a thing. It sounds easy, but try fly ing straight and keeping your wings level without any visual means! You will be surprised at some of the ef fects: you think you are^still turning when you have stopped, or you are in a sixty degree bank and insisting you are still level. “Happily, in actual flying these con ditions do not exist, as there are your instruments to guide. you. There are two kinds—basic and gyro. You can get along on a basic alone, but your gyro instruments make flying easier and smoother. Without any question ing, you put all your faith in the instruments; and if the corrections are made, and you follow them out, every thing runs smoothly. “In our life, our basic instrument is prayer; we cannot get along without it. We thank God that prayer is one instrument that cannot fail! But we do not stop with prayer. Our Father has generously given us many instru ments such as the Bible, the church, etc., to help guide our way and to keep us on the right course. How sad it is when w# neglect our instruments! We
Peer— at Christmas There are two kinds of poverty. Many of us are born poor, so far as this world’s goods are concerned, and in all our lifetime we never become anything else. But some men, though they may be penniless today, have not always been in that condition. They have known the pleasure and the pow er that are associated with great wealth. That is all gone now. These men are poor; they know the meaning of poverty as other people never can know it. And think of this: Jesus Christ was rich, but He became poor. 'All the wealth of heaven was His. Every cre ated being in the Glory realm was eager to do His. bidding. But “He became poor”—completely and volun tarily—that we “through his poverty might be rich” (2 Cor. 8:9). Each re turning Christmas season, the marvel of this fact is greater. It makes us cry out: “Oh that the world might taste and see The riches of His grace! The arms of love that compass me Would all mankind embrace.” Plying Blind As this Christmas season approach es, there are many sons who have won their “wings,” or are in training to re ceive them. Some of these boys are tal ented and loyal Christians, as is the young lieutenant, William M. Meader,
cannot come, will you not ask God that, in these eventful conference days, there may be a gracious reviving of the hearts of His people and the bring ing to Christ of those who are lost? Tract Ministry “ I am just beginning a life of serv ice for the Lord,” wrote a young con vert in Iowa. “This past week, the Lord seemed to urge me to start a tract ministry. Then, the latter part of the week, I read yOur article, ‘Twen ty-Three Years of Spiritual Blessings’ [October KING’S BUSINESS], I found, near the close of the article, this sen tence of H. C. Hunt’s: ‘I hope to de vote the remaining years of my life to tract ministry, mailing out well-chosen tracts every day.’ This is the first time I have ever heard of any one’s mailing out tracts regularly. “My husband is not saved, so only my luxury money is available for the Lord for this purpose. Happy indeed will be the day When this home is truly a Christian one, thus able to serve the Lord the more. Will you pray for us?” ; The Christmas season is a good time * to remind the Lord’s people of the The "Rebuild As this issue goes to press (Novem ber 15, 1943), a total of $50X100 has been received for the "erection" of the Bible Institute buildings, free of in debtedness. What a joyful occasion it will be, if the remaining $60,000 is received before Christmas! As was explained last month, it is a new kind of “budding” that is in progress at the Bible Institute of Los Angeles—one that requires no permits or priority claims. Attention is being centered upon the two thirteen-story units which adjoin the church audi torium. Just seven weeks ago, when the plan was explained publicly, the two dormi tory sections appealed in solid red color on a large painting hung in the main auditorium. Eleven hundred blocks—each one representing the gift of $ltiO—are being placed, one by one, over tlie red portion, and when all the blocks have been fitted together, the picture will be complete, the red will be eliminated, and the debt will be liquidated. The name of each donor, or the person in whose memory the gift is given, is inscribed on the block which has been, purchased, and the fin ished painting is to occupy a prominent place in the Institute building as a re- Torrey Memorial JANUARY 23-30, 1944
privilege of enclosing some portion of His Word.in every greeting that is sent out. A friendly word, handwritten or in tract or booklet form, may lead a soul to the Saviour. In these busy wartime days, have we any right to burden the mails with any message ■which does n o t,.in some way, exalt the Lord? Prosperity Increases in salaries are not, by any means, being experienced by all. Yet, in these acceptedly affluent days, Mar tha Snell Nicholson speaks truth when' she says: 0 friend of mine, I see you now At ease, well clad and fed; No further need to struggle nor To starve—those days are fled. And yet I look at you and grieve: I know your faith is dead! 1 wish that I could find once more The friend I used to know, With shabby clothes, but crowned with > stars!. About you used to glow The sanctity of suffering. Dear friend, where did you go? ing" of Biola minder o f the unity of the1body of Christ. Love Prompts the Giving Richard Hjorth was one of the most earnest and spiritual boys ever trained at the Bible Institute of Los Angeles. A lieutenant in the Air Force, he was killed a few weeks ago in a bomber over China. Not only is he “with Christ, which is far better,” but also the memory of his name will be a part of Biola always—in the block which those who love him have pur chased in his honor. To the end, he was a soul-winner, as is evident in one of the last messages received from him; a Vfina.il letter read: “The Lord has graciously sent me a couple of much-needed helpers for our chapel services, . . . Mr. H. invited me" to go with him to the Leper Home near by and speak to the lepers. I did so, giv ing a simple gospel message. Mr. H. interpreted., He gave an invitation, and seven lepers stood up and expressed their acceptance of the Lord Jesbs Christ as their personal Saviour. Praise the Lord!” A missionary who has spent, many years in Africa wrote: “The enclosed Bible Conference NINTH ANNUAL
money is from our family for a block in the Institute. My wife and 1 are grateful for the training we received there in 1914 to 1916. Two of our children also have been graduated from the Institute, and our Betty start ed this, fall. We have much for which to praise Him.” The Touch of Sacrifice “ I have only thirty dollars income each month,” wrote a friend in South ern California, “ but I have given twelve dollars each year for five years. Here are five more dollars”—to help to meet the special need. Earned entirely by preparing fryers for iftarket, $100 was sent in by one Woman who naively asked: “How many hundreds of thousands of pin feathers do you think this gift, repre sents?” A little boy sent to Dr. Talbot the complete contents of his bank—75 cents. He had wanted to buy a block, he said, but that was all the money he had. The pastor told these facts to a Sunday morning congregation, ask ing that friends who were able to do so should contribute the remaining $99.25 needed. The response was so unanimous that at the present time it appears that the one who gave all he had will not only have one, but per haps two blocks bearing his' name! Thus the gifts are coming in, to the glory of God. But many more are needed. Whether for $100 or any por tion thereof, every amount will be dedicated “unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood.” Now—before Christmas—will you not pray about this matter? About Your KING’S BUSINESS If your magazine is late in reaching you, please do not be impatient. War orders come first. For example, a recent issue of the KING’S BUSINESS was com-- pleted on time, ready for binding —but a delay of two full weeks occurred before the bindery was free to undertake this regular work! If you do not receive your copy by the tenth of the month, remind us—gently. If your magazine seems small, remember that larger issues are taboo for the present, because of paper shortage. Usually the Christmas number contains eight additional pages which this pres ent D e c e m b e r number cannot have. We are seeking to limit ad- , vertising and increase the space for articles and l e s s o n helps. Please be patient with us; pray' for us; we will do our best. —EDITORS.
TH E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
O come All ye faithful
Joyful and Triumphant
By MEREDITH CARR
Father, and somehow I saw more clearly than ever before What was in volved When our Lord left His glory in heaven to come to earth to be bom as a tiny babe. I tell you, Marge, it is wonderful to have Him as your Com- mander-in-Chief. Immanuel, God with us! And ‘God with us’ makes all the difference in the world. The presence of Christ is something very practical out here. It answers all our questions. . . . Pray fdr me that I may be a faith ful witness to those here who do not know Him . . . ” Marjorie had only dimly realized what Don had tried to tell her. She was glad for him that he had heard that Christmas song, but her prayers were- for his safety. Now the slow, majestic notes of the same song Don had heard last year were filling the room and were tight ening the hard band that seemed to encase her heart. “O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant; O come ye, O come ye to Bethle- > hem.” How coqld she be joyful and tri umphant? There was no justice. Life wasn’t fair—God wasn’t fair. He had taken Don, youhg and splendid, with years of his life in which to serve the Lord, and He had left a half-wit like Ted Murton who lived near them, to be a burden to himself and his fam ily. . , ’ She had fought hard against this bitterness, the hard coldness that numbed her. At first, she had read her Bible eagerly, almost frantically, for some hope or pattern for her life. She had tried to pray and, finally, she had written to a prominent minister to ask
dignity in his death. Don had died in a Japanese prison. And she had lain for long hours of each night since the word had come, torturing herself with the thought of his suffering. Had he been mistreated? Was he starved to death? Had he been ill, with no one to care for him? She had read news paper accounts of the horrors of the enemy prisons: the privations and the indignities endured. And she would see Don, his bright head bowed in suf fering, his clear blue eyes dulled with pain, and would feel she could not go on. Suddenly the music changed and Marjorie stiffened, her clenched fist going to her mbuth to stifle a gasp. That song—it was his song. That was the song that had meant Christmas to Don last year. His letter, telling her of it, had not reached her until many weeks after Christmas but, reading it, she had felt that she was in the plane with the crew, returning from a raid over Bur ma a few days before Christmas, and was experiencing the wonder of the radio as for the first time. They/had reached friendly territory, Don said, where some of the watchfulness could be relaxed; the radio operator was ordered to tune in—and he had picked up a Pacific Coast station. Across the miles of ocean and warring land, the miracle of a Christmas carol had pene trated through the static of the ear phones—an American choir singing, “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” “I c&n’t tell you what it meant to me and the fellows,” Don had written. J3he could quote most of his letters from memory since she had known there would be no more. “ Itt was a precious Christmas gift from our
=*• CAN’T stand it. I won’t stand it,” I Marjorie Evans whispered bitterly to herself against the muted mu sic that formed the prelude of the Christmas service, She had sat, still and tense, enduring the familiar car ols that filled the church auditorium with their beauty and the richness of the organ tones. But the notes had beat through her head with hammer like blows. She half rose to leave, but sank quickly back at a slight movement from her mother. She had come to church this Christmas morning be cause, had she not done so, she would have hurt' her mother immeasurably. Since she was here, she must stay. The smile she gave her mother was forced, but she hoped it looked natural and would allay the unguarded concern she had seen in her eyes. Mother was so dear—she was all that Marjorie had to cling to now—and she mustn’t know, ever, about the hardness that had taken the place of love in her daughter’s heart. The letter had started it. “We regret fully have to inform you that your husband . . .” And she had known that Don was never coming home again. There had been some hope through all those months he had been “missing in action”—even when his name was listed as a prisoner of war, and she knew he must endure the misery of a Japanese prison. Hope was gone now. She had noth ing—not even the memory of swift death for him, to soften the fact that he was not coming back. If he could have gone fighting to the end—4iis plane plunging to earth in one terri ble roar—she could have borne it bet ter, she felt. But there had been no
him for something to go on. She had shrunk from consulting her own Pas tor—she wanted none to know of her lost faith—at least not now when she was too tired to argue. The minister had replied promptly and at length, but his reply had given her no help. Still she had tried to fol low it. “ Get so busy helping others that there will be no time to think of your own loss,” had been part of the advice. Red Cross work, blood banks, training for the ambulance corps—all these had filled the hours of the day. But there were the nights. “Remember that sorrow gradually loses its ability to hurt US,” the advice had run. But that was no help for today. “Keep in mind the happiness you had before death struck.” But it hurt so to remember that. She had done little else, and it only made his loss the more poignant. “Deliberately lose yourself in your religion and you will be able to tri umph over disaster. God is love and you can safely trust yourself to Him,” had been the final answer. But it didn’t meet the need. Perhaps she hadn’t given it a fair chance, but God seemed very far away and unreal, unconcerned with her grief. No person had been able to help her. Most of her friends had made embar rassed attempts at consolation and the minister had called several times, but Marjorie had been glad that she was out each time. Surely there could be no comfort for one who knew that the biggest thing in life had been lost. Not even her mother knew that she was facing even a harder thing than los ing her husband. She had lost her faith. Gradually she became conscious of the minister’s voice. She had not listened to him before. But familiar words found an echo in her mind. “If Christ had not come, think what it would mean. No Saviour to bridge the gap between God and man, no ‘Im manuel, God with us,’ if He had not come.” “Imfrianuel, God with us,'and ‘God with us’ makes all the difference in the world”—these were the words Don had sent her. She Straightened a little and put her whole attention on the message. “Beloved,” the pastor was saying, “there would be no resurrection balm when the shadow of death falls across
the home circle, if He had not come. He willingly left a glory which we cannot even begin to imagine, to come to earth to die—yes, to die—that we might have life. Yet on this Christmas morning, there are many thousands of souls right in our own land who have known no difference because of His coming, as far as their lives are con cerned, because they have not received Him. He came the first time to die. He rose and then ascended to heaven, there to intercede for us^ and He is coming again that we may be with Him. But today, His is the indwelling presence that keeps us.” Marjorie lost the next few words, thinking of what Don had written: “The indwelling presence of Christ is a very practical thing out here.” Sud denly her heart began to beat faster, tears filled her eyes, and she felt the coldness breaking up. This, then, was what Don had meant. The indwelling presence of the L'ord Jesus Christ an swered all the questions—even those that would come in the future. She saw suddenly why she had no comfort until this moment—why there had been no faith, why all her Bible reading had brought no solace or un derstanding. She, who had thought of herself as a Christian all her life be cause she attended church and lived a decent life, needed Christ’s indwell ing presence. She had never known Him. She had had “ the form of godli ness,” but had denied its power. Don had had the real thing, she knew now, and he must have known of her own lack and had tried to reach her in that message, one of the last she was to receive from him. She had had to have something bitter in her life be fore she could see her need. “ Forgive me of my sin in refusing Thee, Lord,” she whispered, tears of repentaiice coursing down her face. “I accept the price You paid, and I want to be entirely Yours.” The minister’s words reached her again. “This is Christmas morning, and we are here to worship the Lord and remember His birth. His was a gift that none of us, can fully ap preciate—the gift of eternal life that He gave us when He came—but we can all receive it. ‘For with the heart man believeth unto righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.’ Are there not some here this morning who would like to confess openly the Lord who came from glory to save them, some who have recently received His gift of life
through the Son? Such a confession would be a grecious love gift to Him.” There was no hesitation on Mar jorie’s part. She heard her mother’s startled exclamation as she arose, but she walked- calmly toward the front and knelt at the altar. There were many in the audience that morning who marvelled at the joyful radiance that shone from her dark eyes and lighted her face as she went toward the front. “ It is all right, now, Lord,” Marjorie whispered as she knelt before Him. The loss was still there, the grief would be no less intense. But the bitterness was gone, and in its place was joy— the joy of the indwelling presence of the Lord Jesus Christ. Another hymn was chosen for the closing song of praise, but Marjorie was singing in her heart, “O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,” and it seemed for a' moment as though Don sang it with her. And it was all right. It didn’t even matter, now, how Don had died. He was with the Lord, and the glory of His presence would have blotted out all suffering and hu miliation. "(t come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant, O come ye, O come ye to Bethle hem; Come and behold Him born the King of angels; O come, let us adore Him,- O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him, Christ, the Lord.” ' The Simplicity of Salvation BELIEVE CHRIST “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou- shalt be saved" (Acts 16:31). RECEIVE CHRIST ' “But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God" (John 1:12). CONFESS CHRIST “With the mouth confession is , made unto salvation" (Rom. 10: 10 ).
TH E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S /
I Lived Seventy Miles . ★ %
★ ? For the past five years, as Superintendent of the Hunan Bible Institute, at Changsha, the China Department of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles, Charles A . Roberts lived and worked under constant threat of i n v a s i o n — just seventy miles from the Japanese lines. (Mr. Roberts arrived in Los Angeles on July 4, 1943. His wife and children bad returned to America earlier.) Changsha, the capital of the province of Hunan, normally has a, population of three-quar ters of a million, and boasts a railroad, airfield, excellent wa terways and highways. Yhe broad ribbon of the Siang river, crowded with sampans, small steamers, and junks, flows past the city, on through the beau tiful countryside of red earth and green crops, and into the Tung T ’ing Lake, the center of China’s Rice Bowl. THREE TIMES IN THE PAST FIVE YEARS, Japanese troops have attempted to take Changsha. Three times they have occupied a part, but neyer the whole of the city, and three times they have been thrust back, leaving destruction in their wake. The Hunan Bible Institute is located just outside the east gate of the city, in beautiful buildings erected through the efforts of the Rev.. Frank A . Keller, M .D„ with the purpose of training men and women for the Lord’s work. At Changsha and in the surrounding dis tricts, t h e Biola Evangelistic Bands, a department of the In stitute, h a v e carried \on the work of evangelism for many years. They have gone with the gospel to p l a c e s where Christ had not been named. They have kept up this work in s p i t e of the nearness of the Japanese, difficulties of trans portation, soaring costs of liv ing, and d a n g e r s on every hand. T h e y are engaged in this all-important work today. ★
I had stood at the gate since the first distant roar of heavy guns, ad mitting the women and children, re gretfully refusing entrance to any men of military age, and watching, with a sore heart, as mother and son, husband and wife, or father and chil dren bade grave farewells. Four large, three-story dormitories had b e e n turned over to the refugees. Once stu dents had been housed there; now some two thousand strangers were taking possession, five and eight to a room, grateful for any shelter. Slowly the streets and gateway emp tied. I looked out to see closed shops and homes—everywhere t h e m u t e evidence of hasty evacuation. The same thing must be true inside the city—a city of cheaply built homes that had replaced the more solidly constructed buildings destroyed by the Chinese themselves in their "scorched earth policy,” in 1938, when the Jap anese had made their first drive to ward Changsha.
HE MASSIVE gates to the Hu nan Bible Institute had been A flung wide open to admit the crowd of refugees seeking shelter from thè approaching horde of Jap anese troops. Elderly wrinkled grand mothers hobbled on tiny bound feet through the gate and clung tightly to the hands of small grandchildren whose faces mirrored anxious fear. Here and there a younger woman car ried hastily bundled possessions in one arm and a baby in the other. Children held tightly to precious bun dles of clothing. Old men with carry ing poles brought in boxes and rolls of bedding; others wished a place for their pigs and chickèns, and one dairy man asked shelter for twenty cows! It was a scene that had been repeated in many other cities during the China Incident, a scene that wrung one’s heart with pity. It was September, 1941, and an American compound could still offer some protection to Chinese women and children.
W rinkled O ld Men Came Asking
Shelter for Themselves and Earthly Possessions
Photo by Ewing Galloway
. . . From the Japanese Line
By CHARLES A . ROBERTS A s told to Anne Hazelton '
nese Pastor, Ch’en Kuang, and had warned t h e m that the conference might be interrupted by invasion. Back had come the answers:..“Realize .conditions, but the conference is im portant. Count me in.” ■ The Biola Evangelists and church delegates had gathered, and for a few days uninterrupted sessions were held. RUmors grew more ominous and throughout the city ran an undercur rent of impending disaster, but each of the services was a quiet, unhur ried blessing to those who met to gether. “The news is bad,” Mr. T’ien, one of our Band leaders, told me toward the close of the first week. “The Jap anese have crossed the lHsing Chiang Ho.” That meant they were then only sixty-five miles from us. The heavy bombing raids followed closely upon this news. From the be ginning we scheduled meetings for early. morning and late afternoon, which allowed the people to go out-
Remembering the crowds of refu gees that would be at the river bank trying to get passage, or thronging the narrow roads leading from the city, I glanced up into tiie sun-filled September sky, fearing momentarily to see the shadow of Japanese planes, coming on their daily mission of death as they had come for the past week. A . Christian Conference under Air Raids Evidences of God’s protection had not been wanting during that week wherf, by the very intensity of the air raids, we knew invasion to be im minent. The annual Autumn Bible and Evangelistic ' Conference was in ses sion, and through all that week of continuous raids only His providence kept us from injury or harm. When the program for the confer ence was in preparation', I had written to the other speakers who were to be with us: Robert Porteous of the China Inland Mission, William Blackstone of. the Presbyterian Board, and a Chi
si det he city duripg the hours the planes were m o s t likely to come. Soon, however, the planes were there by d a w n, a n d continued frequent raids were our portion for the day. While the planes were overhead We would spend the time in prayer, re suming the regular service when they had gone. We knew the Japanese drive was on in earnest and that the Chinese troops were beginning to re treat. Rifles and machine guns could hold no longer against superior mech anized forces. In spite of the dangers, the people remained, and the confer ence continued. Each night three evan gelistic services, held in three sep arate places of worship in the city, drew large crowds. Evacuation of Changsha On Thursday it became evident the conference must dose. Evacuation of the city had begun in earnest. The afternoon meeting, which we knew must be the last of the series, was a time of very precious fellowship. The same night I accompanied the two missionaries outside the city to the river bank. A large crowd already was there, milling up ond down the bank. Boats, packed with refugees, Were hastily swinging out from shore, in danger of being , sunk by the peo ple trying ,to board them. I looked at the crowd, helpless with a cruel enemy approaching, and thought of the mul titudes Christ had looked upon and of His compassion for them. , It was many hours later when the missionaries found places on a mili tary launch which pulled away well after midnight. They were silhouetted for a moment in a shaft of clear moonlight which seemed to pick them out. As we raised* our hands in a token of farewell blessing, my heart lifted and I raised my eyes to see the moon, serene in the dark sky, above all the strife and bloodshed. The
Faces of China's Children M irrored An Anxious Fear A s
The Enemy Approached
Photo by H. Armstrona Roberts
TH E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
later, from Tokio! Over the small bat tery radio I heard the announcer pro claim in true Tokio,style, “Having ac- "complished its achievement at Chang sha, the Imperial Army of Japan has withdrawn.” But they had failed to take the city, and we knew it to be defeat for them. Incredibly:soon after the last of the troops had gone, the people« flocked back to the city and suburbs and be gan the weary task of identifying bits of possessions, cleaning out their homes which had been used for stables or worse at the whim of the conqueror, rebuilding temporary homes where others had been destroyed, and taking up the everyday life as though it had not been interrupted. ■ Letters began to drift in from the various Evangelistic Band leaders and ¿the two missionaries, relating their difficulties in getting away, but prais ing God for the way they had been kept on the journey and for the fact that Changsha was how free again. Enemy Aliens It was but a short respite, however, when the news of the attack on Pearl Harbor shook us as it did the rest of the world. Now the fact that the Japa nese lines were but seventy miles from us was a more ominous thing. Now if there should bé invasion, it must mean evacuation for American and British workers, or else intern ment. Christmas Day, 1941, stands out in memory as an oasis in the desert, or the calm before a storm. Inside the city of Changsha and in the surround- ' ing districts; the people wearily took up the preparation for another evacua tion: Thè Japanese were moving to ward us again. This time the mission aries prepared to leave, as -we were now enemy aliens. But Christmas Day, in spite of the grave news, was a time of special fellowship and blessing. It was as though everything had halted for that day o f worship and spiritual refresh ment. It was a full day of services, and in the evening a fellowship sing, held in our home at the Hunan Bible Institute, climaxed the day. The next day we packed. It was bit terly cold, as we transferred what be longings we could take to our boat at the river bank. About thirty miles from the city we stopped for news. We heard that the Yale in China had been burhed, and I wondered about the fate of the Hunan Bible Institute. Had those beautiful buildings been destroyed by the ruth less hand of the enemy? Then came the report that the Chinese, putting up a strong resist ance and being aided by the American Air Force, had forced the Japanese to retreat, leaving the city free. We hur ried back. With heavy hearts we saw [ Continued on Page 476]
frightened Chinese tied together act ing as forced guides, asked in Ger man, “May I come in? I am a Doctor.” “Corné in,” I replied in the little German I knew. But finally we had to resort to writing characters in the dust, characters that are the same in Japanese and Chinese. As we ex changed information in that medium, I noticed the deathly- quietness of the compound and marvelled that more than two thousand Chinese could be so silent. I found later that they had all taken cover, flat on the floor of each room. There was not even a whimper from one of the many babies! The Japanese Doctor was worried over the possibility of the water’s be ing poisoned. I assured him that to my knowledge the wells had not been poisoned when the Chinese retreated. I walked outside the gate with him as he left. “You came very quickly,” I said by way of making conversation. “Very glorious, very glorious!” he replied proudly. I thought differently! At that moment I noticed a mother with two small children approaching our gate, and saw the mother’s face pale as she saw the'Japanese officer. Instantly she and the children dropped to their knees, With hands upraised in mute supplication for mercy. The Doc tor walked .arrogantly by, and I ushered the ■mother and children in side the compound. The terror on that mother’s face was the shadow of the despair and fear of the many, who had known the booted tread of an invading army. Several old men were brought to the hospital, their heads hanging for ward in .a strangely grotesque way. The muscles of their necks had been severed so that their heads fell for ward, torturing but not killing them. Even after an operation it meant stiff necks the rest of their days. “But why?” I asked them. “What did they have against you?” “We resisted their attacks on the women of our homes,” one said quietly. * That night marked the final battle for the city. Heavy ^fighting went on until early dawn: At 5 a. m., the gatekeeper rushed in with news. “I’ve seen Chinese troops,” he exclaimed happily. “The enemy has retreated.” Confirmation came just a few minutes
guns’ roar had not stilled. I knew the Japanese troops were swinging inex orably toward us, but I knew, too, that God was not far away and we were in His care. There was another parting Friday rnorning as I bade farewell to the young men who made up the Biola Evangelistic Bands. I had given them sufficient money for several months so that each band could carry on in. free territory. Each evangelist car ried his own roll of bedding and clothing, his tract and Bible bag slung over his shoulder. I wondered into what dangers they were going and ho,w they would fare, and then felt sharply rebuked as they, one and all, spoke of God’s promised care for His own. Attack on the City By this time, the ,roadway and the river bank were crowded with-refu gees, a stream of humanity fleeing on carts, r i c k s h a w s , bicycles, and on foot. Suddenly a b o v e the bark of m a c h i n e guns, Which were much nearer now, there was another sound —the roar of a s i n g l e plane div ing relentlessly toward the city gate nearest our compound. The air around us whined to the scream of falling bombs, and a near-by explosion burst against our ears.- Then the plane was gone as quickly as it had come. I hurried with a relief squad to the spot. Bombs had struck and we saw with chilled h e a r t s that both the church and the pastor’s residence lay in ruins. But even as we looked, Pas tor Liu came running up. “The Lord has delivered us,” he exclaimed. And we found that he, with the others on the compound, had been in a dugout between the two buildings and that no one had been harmed. Outside, it was different. A mother bent above the three still forms of her children. Numbed and empty-eyed for the first moments of the shock, she knelt there, and then, uttering a heart rending wail, she threw herself across the children. I turned away, my heart tom with the grief of another. “Ra chel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not.” Temporary Japanese Occupation ' Then the Japanese arrived, taking our suburb and part of the city, It was no peaceful occupation, though, and the sound of gunfire filled the night arid much of the four days fol lowing. Those days were filled with dangers and uncertainty, but out of them a few incidents remain clear in my memory. There was the gatekeeper’s shaking voice early on e . morning: “Mission ary, the Japanese are at the gate. What shall we do?” Then the Japanese officer, waiting at the gate with his orderly and two
willing to give that, no other gift can be acceptable. I know of a little girl who saved her allowance for weeks in order to buy one day of her father’s time all for herself. “Daddy,” she said, “I’d rather have you than any other' present in the world.” Willie Schaeffer was an eighteen- year-old boy with an advanced case of leprosy. He had lived, in Baton Rouge, La., before becoming ill and had made friends with Dr. Hunter, one of the beloved pastors of the city. When he became a patient at the lep rosarium in Carville, Dr. Hunter visit ed him. Later he- asked Willie to make out a list of Christmas gifts which the patients would like. The boy made a careful canvass of the hospital to find out what each one wished, then he wrote. “Dear Dr. Hunter,” he said, “the nicest Christmas gift we could pos The Corinthian Christians first gave themselves to the Lord. Christ tells us that if we bring our gifts to the altar and our hearts are not right be-, /fore God, we first must go and be reconciled to God and to our brother, and then come and offer our gifts. It is hard for our finite minds to grasp the fact that the-. Owner of the gold and the silver of earth, and of the cattle upon a thousand hills, has also need of us; that His Father heart yearns for our fellowship, longs for our friendship, needs our time. The “Krismus Gif’ ” He desires most can not be wrapped in tissues or tied with ribbons. It is a preparation of the heart to receive Him in greater full ness. Giving with Joy Those with leprosy in the beautiful colony of Cheingmai, Thailand, realize the spiritual.significance of this fact. Beginning in October, they count the days off one by one until Christmas. Every dingy wooden building is cov ered with a coat of shining whitewash. Every brick building is retinted with a mixture of lime and yellow earth. The trees are trimmed, the hedges are clipped, the roads are worked, and the paths are swept. By the first of December, the whole camp is immaculately clean. From then on everybody is engaged in put ting on the finishing touches. The sibly think of would be just to have you and Mrs. Hunter come again to see us.”
N EVER shall I forget the Christ mas dawns of my childhood on a Southern plantation. Cuddled I would peep over the pillows into the semi-darkness to see Mammy at the open fireplace lighting the great yule logs. Soon crackling flames lit up bulging stockings, and brown wrapping papers were scattered care lessly over the floor. Outside the low window of the log farm house, soft rich voices were mur muring mysteriously. Suddenly they would unite in a chorus loud enough to awaken the sleepiest member of the household: “Krismus Gif’ Ole Miss There was always a friendly rivalry between the “white folks” and the “black folks” as to who would call Krismus Gif’ ” first, and the winners were always the recipients of the gifts. It was another case of the early birds that got the worms, but the “worms” at Christmas dawn proved to be bright *Promotional Secretary, American Mission to Lepers, New York, N. Y. Krismus Gif’ Mars’ Jimmy Krismus Gif’ Evey Body.”
bandana handkerchiefs, warm woolen mufflers, and shiny brogan shoes for the renters of the farm. Christmas to them meant showers of gifts antici pated through the year. Christmas, to all of us who are Christians, should mean gifts, too— but gifts given, not gifts received. Is it our happy custom to give gifts to thejDne whose coming into the world we celebrate? A little lad had been taught that Christmas was Christ’s birthday. In his mind, a birthday meant a frosted cake with colored tapers. Consequent ly, when he slipped down the stairs on Christmas morning to find a glit tering tree laden with gifts ¡for him, he looked about for something else which he could not find. Disappointed, his eyes filled with tears. “You said this was Jesus’ birthday,” he sobbed, “but you forgot to make Him a birthday cake.” How often do we forget, on the Saviour’s own special day, to give Him a gift! Giving Oneself We know that He would rather have the gift of ourselves than any other possible offering. In fact, until we are
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