Unfinished Rainbows, and Other Essays

by George Wood Anderson

Because men were satisfied with things as they were, the city slums became deeper, fouler depths of misery entombing thousands of human beings in inexcusable death-traps, robbing parents of hope and childhood of its lawful inheritance of health and goodness. These things continued until one poor lad grew divinely restless. A little immigrant boy of poetic temperament and lofty aspirations, by the name of Jacob Riis, cried out in protest against the injustice of foul air and darkened homes. Restless himself, he made the city restless, until New York transformed her tenements, purified her slums, and reformed her government until she became one of the cleanest cities of the world—in many ways a worthy example for the cities of the Old World to follow. The restlessness of Livingstone redeemed Africa. The restlessness of Morris saved China. The restlessness of Thoburn is working miracles in India. When men found it impossible to sit at ease while their brothers were in chains slavery disappeared. Because men became weary with drunkenness and tired listening to the pathetic pleading of drunkards’ wives and children, an aroused nation closed the open saloons and placed a ban upon the sale of alcoholic drink. Men are now becoming tired of war. They believe that the world has drunk its fill of human blood. The hour for world-wide disarmament has come, and rulers must be made to think before sacrificing their people’s lives.

Here also we find the secret of mental development. So long as the human mind is satisfied with tradition it cannot grow; but let it once become uneasy under the deadening power of superstition, its very restlessness will make the mountains unlock their secrets, the plants yield tribute of health-creating medicines, the clouds unbosom their mystery, and even the starlight becomes a pencil of gold to write upon the tablet of the sky the marvelous story of man’s growing intellectual power.

No one of God’s gifts is to be valued more than this feeling of unrest that he inspires within the heart, making us dissatisfied with ourselves and our surroundings, and forcing us forward to become skillful in discovery, art, invention, reform, and intellectuality.

But the beneficent influence of health’s fever does not end here, for it is also the secret of spiritual development. We have all experienced these seasons of holy manifestation. Our friends said that we had the fidgets; the physician diagnosed our case as one of nervousness; we insisted that we had the blues; but all were wrong. The restlessness was a sign of health. We were not satisfied with ourselves but longed for nobility. The dust-made body was refusing to grovel in the dust. The spiritual life was beginning to assert itself through these tissues of flesh. The chrysalis had lost its desire to crawl along the ground, for new life within claimed its right to rise upon joyous wing and cleave the sunlit air. It was not a thing to be despised, to mar and gnaw the budding leaf, but something to be admired and loved of man, something sylphlike to sip from chalices of gold and silver, porphyry and lapis-lazuli. The old man of sin was dying, and through the power of Christ a new man was coming into life; from now on he can never be satisfied with things as they were.

One of the hopes of the world’s salvation is the fact that sin never satisfies the soul. Its promises are never fulfilled. Its obligations are never met at maturity. Men become restless in their sin, and through their restlessness are being led to God. Here alone can satisfaction be found, for only Christ supplies the soul with what it needs for the journey set before it. He offers guidance, saying, “I am the way.” Following him no soul has ever been lost amid the bewildering maze of sin. He offers sustaining power saying, “I am the bread of life” and “I am the water of life.” The dusty ashes of sin no longer choke, but for the hunger there is life-giving bread, and for the parched lip there is water. He gives illumination, saying, “I am the light,” and the terrors of darkness and the dangers of the night flee away. He offers an open way, saying, “I am the door,” and through him one passes out of the cramped prison house of past sins into untrammeled, unmeasured freedom. He offers immortality, saying, “I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” The deadening power of sin loses its hold, and one tastes the unspeakable joy of living a life that is life indeed.

Then be not confounded by the feeling of restlessness that ever creeps upon the healthy soul. What a tragedy our lives would be had we been satisfied with our first achievements! How terribly pathetic it is to become satisfied with ourselves now, while we are so far short of what we might be, and so lamentably short of what God meant our lives to be! Curb not the spirit of restlessness as though it were a fever of death. It is health’s fever. It is the call of the soul for its Creator who longs to lead us into better things.

To-morrow will be a beautiful day because to-day is so restless.

XIII.
The Wisdom of the Unlearned

The pathway of true brotherly love is bordered with deformed social conditions which must be faced and remedied. Entering the temple at the hour of prayer, Peter and John had their pious meditations interrupted by the appealing cry of a crippled beggar, who was crouching helplessly at the temple door. His haggard face, his wistful eye, his bony, outstretched hand, pleaded so passionately that the singing of the Levites was drowned and the temple call to prayer unheeded. The eyes of Peter and the beggar met, and Christlike spirituality stood face to face with the practical aspect of the world’s need. Instantly the great-hearted, impetuous Peter took notice of the helpless man, whose wan face began to brighten with hope. Taking him by the right hand, Peter said: “Silver and gold have I none. I cannot meet the requirements that you ask, knowing that it is not money that you need, so much as health and strength, with which to earn a livelihood for yourself and for your loved ones. Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have, give I thee. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.” The cripple did not have time to waver, nor to debate, for the warm handclasp and the strong arm of the enthusiastic servant of Christ was lifting him to his feet and teaching him how to leap, and run, and sing the praises of God. Peter and John felt that they could not enter the temple to pray until they had proven their right to worship by practically meeting whatever part of the world-wide social needs chanced, at that moment, to confront them.