Here is a hint of what Christianity is constantly trying to do with wild human nature—transforming it by training off its moral “spines” and prickles:
The spineless cactus, the latest plant marvel originated by Mr. Burbank, probably gives greater promise of usefulness to man than any other of Mr. Burbank’s creations. The spineless cactus is an improved variety of the ordinary wild cactus known as the prickly pear, of which there are numerous species and more than a thousand varieties. (Text.)—The World To-day.
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The transformation accomplished by true religion is complete. It changes the whole nature by the importation of a new agency, a conquering power, an overmastering principle. We become incandescent by the energy of the Holy Spirit.
A carbon coil is a perfectly black substance. It is an emblem of utter darkness. But into it is poured an electric current and instantly it becomes a reservoir of light. There once lay in the earth a dull, dark bit of carbon. It suddenly became the subject of the intense transforming energy of volcanic fire. Ever since that it has been a diamond in which lives dazzling light. (Text.)
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Tohong (Peach-red) was a low-class dancing-girl, bought and sold. Restoration was a word not applicable to her, for she never was right. She was born lapsed and lived lapsed. Over the walls of the world that encircled her came the story of Jesus, a man, a wise and pure man, pure as God is pure; in fact, a God as God is God, yet it was said that he loved lost and fallen women. Peach-red had never before heard of such a being. Her soul was sick, and she wondered if she could but meet Him what He would say to “the likes of her,” and if He really could cure soul-sickness. When or where or how Peach-red met Jesus I know not; that she met Him I most assuredly know. Seven years had rolled away, and out of my life passed the name of Peach-red. It was forgotten in the multitude of names that crowded on me. One Sunday, after service in a great meeting-house of some two thousand people, with this and that one coming forward to say “Peace,” there appeared before me a smiling face known and yet not known. “Don’t you remember me? Baptized me seven years ago. My old name was Peach-red.” Here was this woman in value once less than zero, crowned with the light and liberty and growth in grace of seven years.—James S. Gale, “Korea in Transition.”
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