57
T h e
K i n g ’ s
B u s i n e s s
February 1932
“ I thought of another r i v e r — the River o f Lost Souls, on whose broad bosom men ride complacently and to their doom.”
ried its silt and debris down all the ages. It has cut its crooked and iniquitous way across the face of centuries. It has seen the rise and fall of all the great empires. It has been swelled with the slaughter of the Caesars and choked with the sins of a Nero. It swept across the dark ages and accumulated the debris of superstition and misery that resulted from Satanic .ecclesiasticism. It circled across the east ern dominions of Genghis Khan and his successors. It flowed by the side of the Anglo-Saxon Renaissance. It followed the westward march of civilization with the
Courtesy Yosemite National Park
Spaniard to South America and the Briton to North Amer ica. And now, sixty centuries from the day the first drop of iniquity flowed down its slimy bed, this River of Lost Souls sweeps by the consciences of all who live. It takes its toll of lost souls from those who live in life’s highest cul ture, as well as from the Hottentot who knows no greater god than that which he forms with his own hands. T he S ource The source of most rivers is very small and in significant. I f you were to be placed suddenly at the source of the Nile, near Lake Tanganyika in Africa, you would scarcely believe it to be the fountainhead of the world’s longest river. And if you penetrated to the source of the Amazon, the greatest river in the world, you would find it in a tiny rivulet in the Andes Mountains of Peru. These are small and insignificant beginnings, but they become mighty cataracts of fury and power before they empty into the sea. Like these, the River of Lost Souls had a very insig nificant source. It was in the rebellion of a lone woman. She partook of a forbidden fruit, which, so far as the fruit was concerned, was insignificant and unimportant. What was of significance and importance was the attitude behind the act, for it represented the rebellion of a free moral agent against the sovereign God. And behind that rebellion was a satanically inspired desire to totally abandon God. What constituted sin? Was it the act of eating of the fruit of the forbidden tree? No. Eve sinned before she ate of the fruit. She sinned when she doubted God’s word. She sinned when she rebelled in her heart against God’s restrictions. Sin is something more than a deed — it is a condition. There are multitudes of modern souls that are hiding behind a false conception of sin. They think it consists of a deed, such as murder or lying or stealing. But sin is a condition into which the race has been born. One may have succeeded, by reason of parental discipline and moral training, in keeping himself free from heinous outbreaks of «in, and may therefore consider himself a candidate for God’s favor. But sin is not merely a deed. It is a racial, national, family, and individual condition, for “ all have sinned.”
T ributaries Like every great river, this River of Lost Souls has many tributaries. No man has deliberately and consciously launched upon the River of Lost Souls. He has started out on some ap parently innocent and legitimate and harmless-looking stream that, unknown to him, was a tributary of this awful hell-bound river. First, there is the stream o f indifference. This tributary is filled with the lazy waters of such sen timents as these: “ I do not care” ; “ it does not affect me that a Jew died nineteen centuries ago. What I am most interested in is what happens today.” The people who ride upon the bosom of this stream have bodies with minds and senses. They can react very enjoyably to a theater play, or to a favorable stock market report. And they can respond with great delight to the prospect of a seven course dinner. But they are apparently dumb, deaf, and blind in soul when the incomparable Christ says: “ Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden; and I will give you rest.” Every one in Belize, British Honduras, knew that off in the Caribbean Sea a hurricane was lashing its furious way toward land. But what of that? Hurricanes often blew around the Carribbean every year, but they never reached Belize. The city was not in their path; it was immune. For generations it had been a tradition that no hurricane would ever strike Belize, the sleepy capital of British Honduras. But one did strike, with a triple horror of wind, tidal wave, and fire, apd when it was over, after three hours of hell- born fury, the city was in ruins and 850 people were dead. Hurricanes never struck Belize—yet finally one'did. And how often the travelers an the stream of indifference say the same thing! Death takes some man’s wife, and they say, “ Well, it will never take mjne.” Death snatches some woman’s husband, and they breathe complacently, “ It will not take my husband.” Death robs some home of a child, and they feel so safe and say, “ It will never take mine.” But, in hurricane fury, it will sweep down upon their happy homes some day and snatch away a mother or a father or á babe—-just like that. And they are left in the desolation [Continued on page 65]
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