GOD'S BREATH PUBLICATONS

River of Sin

By Michael K. Farrar, O.D.

© June 3, 2003

 

Peter lay in bed gazing at the dimly lit ceiling. He contemplated his discussion on the phone with his friend Sam. They had talked once again about Jesus Christ without any resolution. Sam was politely persistent about his faith. Peter appreciated his concern, but he just didn't see the need for him to, as they say, accept Christ as his Savior. Peter considered himself a very moral individual. He didn't smoke, drink, or partake of drugs of any sort. He held a solid job and gave generously to numerous charities. He volunteered regularly in the city's local soup kitchen. He wasn't married, but dated regularly and never took advantage of his dates. He hoped someday to find the right woman, but enjoyed being single. He had mentioned to Sam that he even attended a local church at Christmas and Easter and felt that religious endeavors were very worthwhile, but couldn’t see pursuing such interests on a regular basis. He knew Sam was concerned about his spiritual life, but Sam just didn't understand that he didn't feel he was all that "sinful."

 

Peter's eyelids began to droop lower and lower. Sleep gradually crept over Peter bringing a dramatic dream with it.

 

Peter found himself standing in a dense forest made up of dead branches and brittle wooden limbs. Sunlight stabbed down through the thick intermingled fingers of dead branches in thin shafts of white light. Peter noticed a pungent smell drifting through the gentle breeze. It was the smell of decay and death. He heard running water in the distance and could see a small opening in the trees ahead. Walking slowly along a trail strewn with dismembered tree limbs, Peter pushed the arms of the dead trees out of his way as he proceeded towards the sound of flowing water. He emerged from the dead forest to behold a most strange sight. There before him along the banks of a slow moving river were hundreds of people on their knees. Each person was intent on some kind of activity near the water's edge. Peter cautiously walked closer to determine what they were doing. The horrible smell grew stronger as he approached the river. He noticed that the river appeared to be the source of the distasteful stench. The water was a murky brownish‑green sludge that seemed to ooze with worms and what appeared to be dead creatures of various sorts.

 

Peter hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to get any closer to such a putrid body of water but his curiosity, over the activity along the river, overcame his concerns. Peter approached the closest individual and peered over the elderly man's shoulder to see what he was doing. The man was intensely fixated on his task at hand. He held a spoon in his right hand and was scooping up sand from the riverbank and pouring it into the water. He performed this task over and over taking care to empty the contents of the spoon in the same place each time. Peter was puzzled over this activity. Was the man trying to build a pile of sand in the water of the river? The curious thing was, no matter how many times the man poured his spoonful of sand into the green ooze of the river, it disappeared. Either the river was deeper than it appeared or the slow current carried away the granules of sand.

 

Peter shifted his attention to other individuals along the riverbank. He noticed a woman with a large cup doing the same thing as the first man he had observed. Interestingly her attempts were no more successful. Each cup full of river sand disappeared as quickly as the old man’s spoonful had. Peter glanced over at a very muscular young man. Peter knew this man had ambition. No spoon or cup would do for him; he had a large bucket that he would drag deep into the soft river sand till it was almost completely full. The man's muscles rippled in the hot sun as he lifted his heavy container of sand and poured it into the thick slime of the river. The surface of the water absorbed the full contents of the bucket without difficulty. The young man returned to the riverbank, scooped up another bucket of sand, dumped in into the river only to have the same results.

 

Peter glanced further up and down the river and examined each individual. Some people had spoons, cups, shovels, buckets or plastic containers but each was performing the same task, attempting to place river sand into the river, but for what purpose? Then Peter saw someone walking along the bank that appeared to be talking to some of the individuals absorbed in their meaningless task. Possibly he could shed light on this strange gathering of tireless workers.

 

"Hey! Can I speak with you?” Peter yelled.

 

"Sure.” replied the stranger.

 

"Can you tell me what's going on here?”

 

"Absolutely. Do you want to join in?”

"Well what are they doing?”

 

"They're trying to get across the river. Excuse me just a second.”

 

Peter noticed the man reach over and pat one of the men by the riverbank on the shoulder and say, "You're doing great! You'll be on the other side soon.”

 

"Sorry about that. I've got my job to do you know.”

 

"What job is that?”

 

"I'm an encourager for my master. There's hundreds of us who roam this river bank giving positive words to all these hard workers.”

 

"But it's hopeless. No matter how much sand they put in that horrible river it doesn't make a dent.”

 

"So what. It's a noble task and worthy of effort. It keeps them busy and gives them hope that possibly they will actually achieve what they seek.”

 

"But they never will.”

 

"That's not the point. The point is that they maintain the perception that they can, by their own efforts, cross the river and reach the other side.”

 

Peter had been so intent on observing the people along the bank he had not noticed the other side of the river. He now gazed across the wide river and noticed a beautiful gleaming city. He could perceive what appeared to be people dancing in groups along the other side of the riverbank. His ears could hear the sounds of celebration and singing. Peter turned to look back at the man but noticed a structure over the river in the distance.

 

"What's that over the river down there?”

 

"Oh you don't want to go down there. It's dangerous and many people have been misled by hopes of crossing the river using it. Your best efforts should be placed in grabbing something to hold sand and picking a place along the riverbank.”

 

"If you don’t mind I think I'll check that structure out, it looks like a bridge to me.”

 

"I would really advise staying away from that that place, it will lead to your destruction. My master doesn't like anyone going near it and he has your best interest in mind.”

 

"Just the same I think I'll check it out.”

 

Peter noticed the somewhat angry look on the man's face, but ignored it and walked quickly away in the direction of what appeared to be a huge wooden bridge. It took Peter about ten minutes to arrive at the bridge. He glanced down into the water and noticed a most peculiar phenomenon. The thick green liquid of the river flowed under the bridge, but the beautiful wooden timbers, which supported the bridge, were perfectly dry. For some reason the water of the river flowed around some invisible barrier that surrounded the wood. It was almost as if the wood repelled the putrid water from itself.

 

Peter walked up to the entrance to the bridge and saw a tall slender young man and woman dressed in white.

 

"So can I cross the river here?” Peter asked.

 

"You sure can.” replied the friendly couple.

 

"Well if it's so easy, why don't all these people along the river cross here?”

 

"They are more than welcome to, but they choose their own manner of crossing.”

 

"But they'll never cross the way they're trying.”

 

"True, but it is their choice.”

 

Peter looks down into the water again. From the height of the bridge he can see numerous skeletons protruding from the surface of the water.

"Are those skeletons?”

 

"Yes.” Replies the couple.

 

"You see some choose to attempt to build their own bridges across the river by hopelessly attempting to build bridges of sand and others place trust in themselves and attempt to cross it on their own. Either choice ends in death. The river cannot be crossed by anyone without assistance. This bridge is the only hope of getting to the other side.@

 

"What's with this river? I mean it’s like a sewer!”

 

"Yes, it is the River of Sin. It is the accumulation of all the sins of those who have ever, or will ever, live. It separates people from the King of Kings.”

 

"Wait a minute. This sounds like Christianity."