A SHIP once foundered on a rocky coast, was broken up by the force of the waves, and one of the passengers was thrown into the sea. He succeeded in laying hold of a plank of the ship, and clung to it desperately, but he was thrown hither and thither at the mercy of the waves; now above, then below the water. As he was on the point of drowning, he suddenly cried out, “Mother, I did take the currants. Yes, I did it.”
At that very moment he was picked up by a lifeboat that had gone out to the wreck, and was brought to land. When he had recovered himself a little he was asked what was the meaning of his drowning cry. Discovered, he remained silent a little, but finally replied: “You were surprised at my cry and I also am surprised no less.
In my youth I once stole my mother’s currants, and denied it afterward. I never once thought of the matter all my life since. But just at the moment when my strength was leaving me, and I could think of nothing else but that I was going to die, there stood my mother before me with serious looks, asking me about those currants.”
That is a little example of the memory of man, as well as the language of conscience. That man was afraid when, in the face of death, his conscience reminded him of the theft in his youth.
But what would it be to see his whole life with all its black spots in the light of eternity, and stand before the throne of judgment when each unsaved one receives according to what he has done?
“Son, remember,” said Abraham to the rich man who was in torment. Remember, remember! Oh what a fearful remembrance there, in the place of suffering where there is no more hope, where no ray of light penetrates the thick darkness.
God knows all about your sins even the ones you have forgotten, and He offers to forgive them all. The precious blood of Jesus can wash them away forever, and then you can rejoice in that verse,
Messages of God’s Love 11/13/1955