In Straight Paths

by Georgia McCain

  * * * * *

  Another daughter-in-law, who was Catholic, came to me under deep conviction. I suggested we pray but she got up and left. But that night, she went to church with us. Her husband was working, so after church she came home with us. She confided to me, "I wanted to pray today but I don't know how to pray." I said, "Just get on your knees by the couch and talk to God just as you are talking to me. Tell Him all your sins and how sorry you are for the way you're living, and ask His forgiveness. I'll kneel by this chair so I can't hear what you're saying and I will pray for you." She did as she was instructed and in a simple way. prayed for forgiveness of her sins and was soon rejoicing in her newfound joy of

  sins forgiven.

  We were to start a revival two nights later with Rev. Kenneth Walter and the Hoskins as singers. She said, "I wish my husband would go to church with me." I said, "Just invite him and we'll pray. Don't put pressure on him or he will rebel." She answered, "He already has plans to go to a ball game." I again answered, ''We'll pray." I had been fasting several days and praying for God to keep moving in our midst. Others were also praying. The very first night of the revival, my son came to church with his newly-saved wife, instead of going to the ball game, and was saved a few nights later. God, later, began to deal with him about working on Sunday, but he put off doing anything about it as jobs were very scarce and he had a family. But prayer was going up to God to deliver him from Sunday work. During this time, he got very sick and was rushed to the hospital. Emergency surgery was performed as he had a ruptured appendix. When the doctor came out of the operating room, he informed us that it was up to a Higher power if he pulled through as gangrene had set in and he was dangerously ill. He hovered between life and death for several days during which time the Lord again dealt with him about Sunday work. For eighteen days, he stayed in the hospital and as the faithful Holy Spirit talked to his heart, he settled the issue of Sunday work, telling God that if He would spare his life and let him get home with his family, he would not work on Sunday again. God took him at his word and allowed him to recuperate. When he was able to go back to work, he took his stand and told his boss he could no longer work on Sunday as he had made a vow to God on his death bed to give up Sunday work. As the world is no friend of grace, his boss fired him. But we reap what we sow and his boss was fired later by a superintendent above him.

  My son was without work for many weeks and was not allowed to draw unemployment. Besides this, his wife became pregnant. Things looked very dark from the human standpoint, but God did not fail them. Their every need was supplied, all their bills were paid. Someone even paid their doctor bill for his wife. My daughter-in-law, who has always been prompt to pay bills, testified at this time, "I've quit worrying about the bills, for God is paying them all for us." Wonderful, wonderful Lord!

  At God's appointed time, my son got a job without Sunday work which he still holds today. Oh, how it pays to mind God whatever the cost. And how dangerous it is to trifle with Him. He will never lead us wrong. Bless His precious Name!

  (On the humorous side) During the time the issue of Sunday work was being discussed and prayed about, my little five-year old grandson, whom I call "Chuck," was very concerned about it. When he would see a place of business open on Sunday, it would really disturb him and he would comment, "Look, Nanny, they're open on Sunday." My husband had some hens and he loved to gather the eggs. One Sunday as he sat by my husband in church, he leaned over and whispered, "Pap-Paw, do chickens lay eggs on Sunday?"

  In closing this account, I'd like to say that God has been faithful to my family, and I'm sure that praying parents everywhere can testify the same. But we're in crucial days and many temptations and snares are laid out before them. Compromise abounds on every hand, but God has a plentiful supply of grace to take them through if they will keep their heart warmed by communion with Him and read the Word and faithfully attend the place of worship, being obedient to His every command and plan for their lives. Oh, how I plead with God that the family circle will be unbroken in Heaven. What an unspeakable tragedy if even one should miss the way. Help each one of us, Lord, to strive to enter in, for Jesus' sake! Amen!

  Provision and Protection

  Automobiles and money are closely associated. My husband's ministry began in the Second World War days, the 1940's. Auto production plants were used for the war production factories, so, the used autos were scarce and expensive. It is wonderful how God has provided us transportation for so many years. We have owned about twenty cars and half this number have been new ones. Thank You, Jesus. We have calculated that each car has gone an average of once around the world. Some, of course, would have never made it but the last one brought up the average; it could have been around more than seven times! We have had only a few fender-bender accidents and have never had to see the doctor because of an accident.

  We have a practice for years, of praying before we start our auto for God's protection, and we do this regardless of who is driving or in the car. We have spun around on slippery roads, traveled many miles through snow and on ice, cars have sped past us on both sides through metropolis areas, as we have traveled thousands of miles on our national highways. Again, thank You, Father.

  I do not intend to imply that this should be an example. Jesus may take us "Home" some day by way of accident. We don't know the Lord's design. But I do want to praise Him for His wonderful provisions and protection to us down through this nearly fifty years. Thank You, Lord! He is my Lord.

  Margaret Wade

  H. Robb French Saved at the Family Altar At Age Four

  In the years when Robb French and his brothers and sister were growing up, their home life revolved around the family altar. Their mother was determined to have family prayer morning and evening. She, also, determined that family prayers would not be dry. "We're going to have holy fire burning on this family altar," she stated.

  And they did. If things were dull and dry at first, they waited until the glory came. Mother knew that if they had the glory, prayer time would not be a grind, but a joy.

  Even the very smallest children learned respect for the family altar. Once while their Aunt Jennie was visiting, little two-year old George was toddling around playing during family prayer. When it was finished, Aunt Jennie turned to Mother French with wisdom that surely came from God, and helped Mother French to see how important it was to teach reverence to the very smallest. Mother French never forgot that admonition, and from then on, even the babies were trained to be quiet while the family prayed.

  It was at the family altar that little Robb, four years of age, was saved. Mother set the chairs around in a circle as she always did, and then she said, "Children, talk to Jesus now just like you talk to Mother."

  Robb had a burden on his little boy heart this morning--a burden that he did not know what to do with, but as young as he was, he could understand those words, "Talk to Jesus just like you talk to Mother."

  Kneeling at an old-fashioned, solid-bottomed chair, sobbing as though his heart would break, he told Jesus all about his troubles and his heavy heart. When he got up from his knees, there was a puddle of tears on the chair, but Robb was happier than he had ever been before. He went out on the back steps and sat in the glow of the waning sun all by himself. Everything looked so changed and beautiful that he thought he was in a new world. The trees had a different loveliness, the birds sang in a different note. Jesus had come into his heart.

  Mother French not only guarded the family altar and the soul interests of her children, but she also earnestly instructed them and faithfully took them to church. When they would get near the church on Sunday, she would say, "Now, children, we're going in to worship. This is God's house. We don't want to be irreverent. If you want a drink, get it before you go in. We're not going to leave unless we absolutely have to."

  Though revival meetings would last five or six weeks sometimes, the French family would attend every night. Their means of transportation was a
little old buggy, but regardless of the weather, they went to church. Many times freezing rains or blizzards would set in but the Frenches faithfully drove the five miles to church and back.

  The years went on. So did the family altar. And the fire on the altar burned brighter and more brighter as Father, Mother, and the children continued to honor God.

  It was not uncommon for the fire to fall on Father or Mother, but one morning it fell on Robb--Robb so timid, so backward and reticent it was almost pitiful. Robb--in the teenage stage when he seemed somehow to outgrow himself, when he couldn't even be around without upsetting the gravy at the table, or knocking over the milk, or stumbling over the stove or the coal bucket. He was so awkward and self-conscious that his life was almost a burden to him. But that morning, all the innate reserve was gone. There he was, shouting, rejoicing in the Lord! Brothers and sister stared at him, open-mouthed. What could have happened to Robb? There was only one answer. God had come down their souls to greet, and glory crowned the mercy seat.

  Mother' s prayers did much to apply the fuel for the fire on the family altar. They formed a bulwark around her children and her little home. The children found their way piled up so high with her prayers and fastings that it seemed they were helpless to climb over them to get to hell. Saturday night never found Mother in bed. That night, every week she prayed all night long on her calloused knees. Through the wee hours of the morning, she grappled with the powers of darkness, building a wall of fire around her family.

  The children did not know why Mother missed so many meals. They did not know why her eyes would sink in their sockets, why the carpet would be sopping wet with tears where she had prayed all night. Mother would sigh when she was under a burden--the sort of sigh that sounded like a wail. A tear would steal down her face. The sigh would break out into a cry. There would be a heave and then another sigh that sounded like eternity, It seemed that no one could pray like Mother. Mother's prayers and faithfulness bore fruit. Her children loved the things of God.

  In later years, Robb remarked, "Moses' mother said Moses was a proper child. That's a mother for you. He may be as freckled as a turkey, knock-kneed, or half-witted, but he is a proper child. The mother of Moses hid him. Where can we hide our children? About the best place I know is behind the family altar. That's were Mother hid us-in the secret place of prayer."

  Father French was a lawyer with a good income and a fine home, but when God saved and sanctified him and called him to preach, he gave it all up and went out, trusting God to supply their every need.

  In the summer of 1897, he started out with his family in a homemade prairie schooner drawn by two horses, with the dog, Rover, running beside them, going across the country to preach the gospel as God led. Robb was then five, and very excited over the trip. Often he would be heard singing:

  "A tent or a cottage, why should I care?

  They're building a palace for me over there."

  Even when meal time came and there was no meat to eat, Robb was thrilled. For when that happened, as it often did, Father and Mother French and all the children would kneel together and ask their Heavenly Father to supply their need. How exciting it was, then, to see God answer, sometimes in very ordinary ways, such as giving Mother wisdom as to how to make what they had go farther and still taste good. It seemed to the child that she could get the skillet; put it on the fire and stir something, and they would have a good supper. At other times, God would answer miraculously, sending food to the very fire they had built by faith to cook the supper.

  One night Father, Mother and the youngsters, tired and hungry, gathered round the campfire. Father had tramped most of the day, leading the horses. The boys had alternately ridden and walked. Out in the wind and the weather, parents and children alike developed monstrous appetites. But there was very little to eat except bread. That night, they sat around the campfire, waiting for God to answer prayer.

  Old Rover had wandered off on one of his vagaries, no one having missed him. Now, through the growing darkness of the night, they could see him trotting down the road pulling something. Evidently, the object he dragged was heavy. He pulled along, then stopped and rested, panting. Again, he pulled awhile and panted. Finally, he pulled the thing right into the campfire circle where the family had gathered, then he went and lay down, his work finished.

  Probably an old bone, everyone thought.

  But no, it looked different. Father bent to see. The children grouped around, and lo, it was a huge piece of dried beef as big as a ham! Dried beef! Who would have believed it? What a treat! Wrapped in burlap, it had been protected from the ground over which it had been dragged. And good old Rover had been so mannerly that he had pulled it along by the string and had not even touched the meat with his teeth.

  That piece of meat was so delicious the French family never forgot it. It supplied not only one, but several meals, providing some of the best eating they had ever had. It needed no dressing or salt to doctor it up. It was already flavored. It reminded them of the way Elijah was fed by the brook. And they were sure that when they got to Heaven and heard Elijah telling about the ravens feeding him, they would want to tell how a dog brought meat to them.

  As one can readily see, Robb French grew up with a rich Christian heritage. He later married Geraldine Trusler, a young lady he had grown up with. She, too, had a wonderful Christian heritage.

  In 1946, Robb and Geraldine French, along with James and Ella Zuch, founded the Florida Evangelistic Association, which sponsored or assisted in the establishment of Sea Breeze Camp, Hobe Sound Bible College, F.E.A. Missions, Sea Breeze Manor, A Gospel Literature Ministry and other auxiliary enterprises which would reach thousands worldwide.

  Robb and Geraldine French spent their declining years at Sea Breeze Manor, recipients of the tender loving care they had planned for others. Geraldine, a faithful saint and prayer warrior, passed away in 1978. Robb, Pioneer, Prophet and Prayer Warrior, followed her in 1985, his last words being, "Praise the Lord."

  At the age of ninety-three, H. Robb French was reunited with his beloved companion and the Christ he adored. The prayers of his godly parents were answered and the family circle was completed.

  (Taken from the book, H. Robb French, Pioneer, Prophet and

  Prayer Warrior. Used by permission.)

  Author's Note: Brother Robb French was one of the greatest preachers I have ever heard. He was firm in his convictions, uncompromising in his preaching, and yet tender and compassionate to all who knew him. Together with his godly wife, they made a team that hell could not shake. Though they never had children of their own, yet their godly influence spread to young people far and wide. And though they have laid down their armour now, yet their influence remains, and their works live to bless their memory. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord--that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them."

  "I'm Not Afraid To Die Now"

  My husband's brother, Bill, was in the hospital scheduled to undergo an operation for cancer the next morning. He was not a Christian and, seemingly, we never could interest him in spiritual matters. I remember one night we held a prayer meeting in his mother's home and she persuaded him to come, but when we started singing, he got up and left. But my husband and I went to see Bill, thinking we could at least pray with him before he went into the operating room.

  As we stood by his bed, he opened the subject himself about his spiritual need. He handed me a Gideon Bible, that the faithful Gideons had placed in his night stand, and said, "Georgia, will you mark some Scriptures for me to read, on how to get saved? I'm facing tomorrow what could be my death and I'm afraid. I don't want to die and go to hell." I assured him that he didn't have to die and go to hell, that Christ had made an atonement for sin if he would just accept it. I took the Bible he handed me, and began to mark some Scriptures, as he continued unburdening his heart to us, "Don't let anyone tell you that they can come down to death's door and not be afraid to die, if
they are not ready to meet God. I don't care how much front they put up while everything is going well, when they stare death in the face, it's a different story then."

  We were going to pray with him but were interrupted by an orderly who requested we leave the room. Since visiting hours were almost over, we told my brother-in-law we would be back the next morning before the operation. We called our pastor and asked him to meet us there.

  All during the night, we lifted Bill to God. Early the next morning, we went to the hospital as we had promised. When we entered his room, the pastor was already there, as well as several others. The devil said, "Now you know you can't pray for Bill's salvation with all these people in the room." Well, we resisted the devil's suggestion and walked over to his bed. We had come to do business with the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords and did not intend to be defeated. As I walked up to his bed, the pastor called on me to lead in prayer, and as the three of us prayed, the pastor, myself and the penitent sinner, God in His mercy reached down and blotted out his transgressions and wrote his name down in the Lamb's Book of Life. The witness was clear. He testified of his regeneration and said, "I'm not afraid to die now. If I die on the operating table, I am ready to meet the Lord."

  There was a Catholic lady in the room that morning and the Lord's presence was so real until she followed me out of the room and fell on my shoulder and wept. The blessed Holy Spirit had touched her heart.

  God brought the dear man through the operation and he lived several months longer. The devil waged an awful battle during those months, but in his last rational moments before he passed away, he testified that he was ready to meet the Lord. How we praise the Lord for His wonderful faithfulness to the children of men!

  Georgia D. McCain

  "If God Doesn't Undertake, I'll Be Out of Business in a Short Time"

  I was awakened at one o'clock on a Sunday morning with a crushing load of concern for a brother in the church who owned a supermarket. As I prayed, the burden intensified. This awful burden continued for about four and a half hours. Oh, the heaviness, the blackness and the pressure but it all finally gave way to light and faith and victory.

  God showed me this brother in the Lord was losing money to a great amount. He showed me how it was disappearing and how to remedy it.

  This dear brother was a good contributor to all phases of our church's work. I wondered why God would allow such a one to go down in defeat.

  He was the last one out of the morning service so as I shook his hand I drew him to the prayer room door to converse with him.

  My approach was right to the point. I said, "My brother, are you having trouble at your store--money trouble?" He replied with a very sad, "Oh, yes, and if God doesn't undertake, I'll be out of business in a short time."

  I continued with a remark about a certain cash register. "Yes, that is probably the most bitter part of the trouble." He asked if God had showed me what to do. "Surely God had to show you all this as I haven't told anyone about the losses--not even my wife (she was a cashier). Brother Eshelman, what can we do?" was his agonizing question.

  "I'll come under the guise of working and play detective." "Oh, thank God," he replied. So the next morning I donned a white apron and ran the meat slicer. From there, I could see all over the store. Before the first day was ended, the Lord showed me his employees who were stealing from him.

  One would take money from the safe for the cash registers, but on his way to the registers, he would pocket some of it. Another was stealing from the register as he made his own change from very small purchases.

  Next day, I saw a butcher wrapping up two-pound steak in with a four pound roast. This transaction was with a friend and he didn't charge him for the steak.

  After the discovery of these dishonest deeds, the owner and I would go to the basement where I could relate what I had discovered. Oh, how dejected the owner would look as he told me he had had complete confidence in his employees.

  To remedy the situation demanded very careful tact. Our God was not slack in supplying me with the remedy. I told the owner, "You can't fire them as each of them have many friends who will quit buying here." So we decided to pray them out. As a result, the offenders all quit within the second week to take other jobs. Say, God will not deny us an answer to earnest prayer or let His faithful children down. Thank God for His marvelous care and concern for us!

  Rev. Claude Eshelman

  Glenn Griffith--Soldier of his Country and of God

  I was born in the year, 1894 in Augusta, Kansas. My father was a class leader in the Methodist Church. There were eleven of us children. (Glenn was the youngest.)

  When I was the age of nine, I heard God's voice for the first time. While walking down the hedge row one morning, I heard a VOICE call me by name. Thinking it was my father, I turned to see where he was; but saw no one. Seeing my father was not around, I started down the path once again, throwing rocks at birds and playing with my dog. Some ten minutes later, I heard the same VOICE call me again by name. Turning again to see if it was my father, I could see him nowhere around. It was then I recognized that the VOICE that called me was the VOICE of God. From that time on, I knew that God had His hand on my life.

  In the year of 1912, an old-fashioned holiness preacher came to the town of Rosalia, Kansas. In this revival, almost everyone in the town was either saved or moved by God. I had not heard the voice of God since I was nine years of age, until God spoke to me at this revival. My brother and I were saved in this meeting, which lasted for eleven weeks.

  While I was at home reading my Bible one night, and across the room from me my mother was sewing, the words found in II Timothy 4:2, "Preach the word, be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all longsuffering and doctrine," seemed to stand out from the rest of the printed words. I was startled, and quickly closed the Bible, and wondered what made me so nervous and stirred me so. Everywhere I would open the Bible, I would see, "Preach the Word." I told my mother about it. She didn't tell me I was called to preach, but said, "Son, you had better listen to that voice. God is trying to tell you something." Till this very hour, I have never gotten away from that call; it is still just as clear.

  I enlisted in the army twelve days after war was declared on Germany, April, 1917. We trained for nine months and were sent to France. It was while I was in the army that I completely went back on God. While backslidden, I could never get away from the call of God. God's callings are forever; He does not repent of His callings.

  In France one night, it looked like none could escape in the battle that was going on; it was a tremendous bombardment. A fear gripped my soul, not of physical death, but a fear of meeting God who had called me to preach. Cold sweat broke out all over me; and I then promised God that if He would forgive me and spare me, that when I got home, the first time He called, I would answer the call and preach the Word.

  (God, in mercy, kept His Hand on Glenn Griffith, though he was engaged in some awful battles. In October, 1918, his company was fighting to hold the little town of Manhuelles, France. It was a very fierce battle. The leader, a lieutenant, was so afraid that he went down into Company Headquarters dugout and wouldn't come out. Men stampeded because they were without orders and without a leader. The lieutenant told Griffith to take charge. Though Griffith felt it was unfair, and something in him rebelled, yet he felt if the leader wasn't going to do it, someone else had to. Though he was only twenty-one, he took command.)

  I don't know how we did it; but we got machine guns--one on one flank and one on the other flank-and formed a battle line before those boys whom we could see in the lurid light of bursting shells and varied lights. There they were across the street, and the boys stampeding and throwing their guns away. One of my good friends, John Bell, was hit in the face with shrapnel. Blood was running down the stock of his gun, and he said, "Take it, Griff, I won't need this where I'm going," A second lieutenant, who had never been under fire, came to me an
d said, "Griff, tell me what to do and I'll stand by you." And so it was, in that awful place of bursting shell and screaming men, who would have run right into the heart of the bombardment and would have been killed, and the town would have been lost to the enemy. Then came the first time in my life that I ever pushed a bayonet into a man's stomach, a boy who was nearly scared to death; I said, "If you don't get into the trench, you are a dead man." There was no place to run. Bombs were falling just behind us. They had misjudged our position, and the bombs were falling about a half or a quarter of a mile in back of us. I knew if those boys ever ran back, they would be killed. It wasn't because I was brave. I was trembling like a leaf, and my voice trembled when I talked. In me was something that wouldn't run! When that fellow turned around and started to run, I boosted him into the trench, and the men filed into the trench. We talked to those boys, though we were scared too, until they calmed down and took their rifles and lined up against that little embankment and held off the enemy. In me was a voice saying, "Run!" But another voice said, "Fight! Cowards run." In me was something that said, "Run! Save your life!" But I remembered, back in Kansas as I boarded the old passenger train, when my old gray-haired dad had shaken hands with me; he was a veteran of the Civil War; he said, "Glenn, I don't know what's before you, but it's awful. Whatever your duty is, do it." I shook hands with my dad, and looked him straight in his steel-gray eyes, and said, "I'll do my best." That came to me vividly, as if he were there on the battlefield with me. So I said, "There is only one time to die, and I'm not worth any more than the rest of the boys." I knew that if I got through the battle, I would go back home and would have to face my father.

  I told God I would preach if He would spare me in the war; and He did. After I got back home, I prayed to God that He would get me to the place where I could pray and repent. Not until my baby, Donnelle, was taken to Heaven could I pray. This broke my heart, and I found my way back to God in a camp meeting at Wichita, Kansas, August 26, 1925. While I was at the altar, God did not only ask me to preach, but asked me when I would start. I said, "Lord, I will begin now." So, I was saved that Saturday night. There was a storm going on outside, but the storm in my soul was greater. I wanted what my dad had, what my preacher brother had, what my little Pennsylvania-Dutch mother had. It was about 2:30 in the morning that God, for Christ's sake, lifted the burden of sin from my soul. I was afraid to go to bed, afraid I might lose the blessing. I was thankful then, and am thankful now, for the old fellow that held me down that night at the altar and told me not to get up till God told me to get up. He told me God could give me something that would keep when the world's on fire. I tell you, when I got through, it seemed like God gave me a brand new world. Yes, sir, I got up and walked down the street and it looked like every tree I went by waved at me. We have a lot of cottonwood trees in the state of Kansas; they were clapping their hands and waving.

  I was an oil worker when I got reclaimed. At that time, I was a foreman for the Carter Oil Company. I was fast-bent on making a success, and was told by the company that I would be up on top if I'd stay with them. I was told by the company that I could have the best lease in the state of Kansas or Oklahoma. They said I could take my choice, if I'd stay with them. I told them I had given my word that I'd go to Browntown and pastor a little church that was converted from a dance hall building. They told me I was crazy. I left for Browntown with my wife and two little children, not knowing what to expect. There wasn't a dime offered us. When I got there, the sunflowers stood around the building as high as the roof (and my wife was used to living better than that). But we went to a neighbor lady and asked to borrow a scythe; I told her who I was and that I was going to be the new preacher; I had never preached but about two sermons before that in my life. She said, "Yes, there's one on the back porch." We got the scythe, and I told my wife and two babies just to sit in the car. I didn't know how they felt, but I thought they might not be feeling too good. But, I got that scythe and took my coat off, and cut those sunflowers down and piled them up at the side of the yard; then went and unlocked the door, and got my wife and two babies out of the car. I said, "This is our palace for awhile." My wife grinned at me and said, "Good enough for us." Hallelujah! You say, what are you talking about? Well, God can make a molehill shine like a mansion! I'd rather have Jesus than anything! We sing, "I'd rather have Jesus, than to be the king of a vast domain." But do we mean it?

  I walked through the church building, and the floor began to spring up and down. It was there God molded me for the days ahead. Around the altar, God taught me the Bible from Genesis to Revelation. I had not much education, but on my knees, the Holy Ghost showed me the way I must go. Later on in my life, I realized that God took me out to Browntown, away from the voice of man, where He could talk to me. It was here God fired my soul and told me secrets of His Word. I wore the knees out of my only suit trousers, but God held me there till He could teach me how to fast and pray. When God can teach a young man or woman His Word, they will not be afraid to preach the whole truth of the Gospel. The Bible will become a Book of Life, never to be doubted. When God molds one, there will be no doubt about the birth of Christ, or the power in the Blood of Christ to save, or about the place of damnation for the ungodly, or about the judgments of God. God wants to mold us in the secret place, so He can send us out with His message, and not one taken from a book. In God's secret place of fasting and prayer, one can have his faith built to where he can believe God when the storms of life come upon him. When all the doors are closed, faith will find one, and God will open it.

  I wasn't sanctified when I started preaching the gospel. But I knew I couldn't preach if I didn't get sanctified; I wasn't just going to be a word-sayer. I said, "Oh God, sanctify me, and give me some unction, and some power, and some energy, so that I can preach and face this world." We had an evangelist back there who was a streak of fire; and I said, "I don't have that." I don't mean the frills; I mean the strength, and that blazing truth that reached out and got hold of you whenever he preached; unction is what I'm talking about. I said, "Lord, I don't have that; and if You can't do it for me, I'm going to have to get my old job back in the oil field; I'll just go back and be an old oil worker again. I can't go on like this; I can't get the attention of the people; 1 can't attract them." And God, for Christ's sake, after I had tarried three days and three nights, sanctified me wholly. When I read that scripture over there in the fifteenth chapter of John, the third verse, "Now ye are clean by the words which I have spoken unto you," I knew I was clean; God knew I was clean; and the crowd knew I was clean! God made me a new creature. He made a wonderful change in my life, until I was not the same person anymore; I don't want to ever be.

  Rev. Glenn Griffith

  (This account taken from Brother Griffith's book, I Sought for a Man. Used by permission.)

  Following are two other accounts of answered prayer taken from the same book and told by Brother Griffith.

  "I'm the Meanest Man in This Town"

  1 would like to tell of a meeting my brother and I held some years ago. Prayer and fasting was the thing that brought God on the scene. My brother, Ben, was preaching, and I was trying to lead the singing and sing specials the best I could. The meeting had been going on for three weeks and no break. My brother and I went on a fast where we ate no bread and drank no water. After about ten days of fasting and praying, my brother tried to get me to eat a little, as I was younger than he, and at this time, had to hold myself up by the corner of the pulpit while singing. I told him I wasn't going to eat till he did. By this time, the town folks were not only being stirred, but were mad at us, and threatened to run us out of town. Many rash things were being said to us. Well do I remember that tenth night. I sang the best I could and turned the service over to my brother. I can still see my brother as he got up and walked behind the pulpit. He had his Bible in one hand, and held himself up with his other hand holding to the corner of the pulpit, being weak from the ten days of fasting. He read h
is text and asked the people to stand while he prayed. After he prayed, the people sat down. They were seated on loose chairs, which were not fastened together except the first two rows. At the end of one of the rows sat a man that was one of the meanest men in the town. They said one could hear him swear for a fourth of a mile. I saw that man move among the people, and start toward the front. He didn't walk down the aisle, but waded down through the loose chairs, as if he were wading through weeds, pushing them aside as he walked. I didn't know what he was going to do, so I moved over closer to my brother. As this man stepped over the altar, he said, "My God, Brother Griffith, pray for me: I'm the meanest man in this town." As he opened his mouth and confessed, the whole church was smitten with Holy Ghost conviction. Men fell everywhere among the chairs; anywhere they could kneel was an altar. That night the meeting lasted till early in the morning. The revival was on now, and lasted till the whole town was stirred. It was here God taught me that prayer and fasting would bring the victory.

  The Experience of a Thirteen-year-old Girl

  I know a little girl in Oklahoma. Her dad whipped her; her mother spanked her; and they shut her in a clothes closet. That little thirteen-year-old girl took the beating and scoffing; but she said, "I have been up to that church, and God saved me; and I am going back. It's wonderful up there." She kept pressing her way until she got gloriously sanctified; and they did persecute her. I am going to tell you the results. She kept the victory; and the first thing you know, she got her mother to the mourner's bench; then next, her brother; then one sister; and then her older sister got in. I happened to be fortunate enough to be in Ponca City, Oklahoma, and meet her old dad, a foreman getting $400.00 a month, way back when $400.00 was $400.00. He had a good job. One day, I saw him sitting at the end of his table, and little Thelma sat across from me. When I said grace, I prayed clear around Robin Hood's barn. I wasn't hungry. I wanted to get that fellow on his knees and get him saved; but I didn't get him saved at the table. As I looked at his fine family, I saw that they were all spiritual. I said, "Daddy, it looks to me like they are all in now except 'dad.' I wonder when he is going to get in." He couldn't take it; he broke down and cried. That night at church, little Thelma wasn't scared out yet, either. When this preacher got through preaching, I saw her make a bee-line for her daddy. You can tell when folks really mean business. I have seen some folks do personal work to throw off conviction sometimes. But this little girl, just as quick as she thought the service changed to an altar service, got her daddy by the lapels of his coat. She began to cry and beg. I slipped up behind her daddy, and got my hand on his shoulder. I said, "I have been saved a long time, but if my girl, Corrine, or my boy would come up to me, and I wasn't saved, and say 'Dad,' and they were crying like Thelma, it would take three men to keep me from going to the altar." He nearly ran over me, as he rushed to the mourner's bench. Thank the Lord!

  Is Not This a Brand Plucked Out of the Fire?

  One day I received a long distance telephone call from Arkansas with an urgent request that we pray for an unsaved mother, who had given birth and was hemorrhaging to death. She had already taken twenty-eight pints of blood, some of which was not even her type, because they had run out of her type and the case was so desperate that they dared to give her another kind. It was reported that she had already died twice, so you can readily see what an awful condition she was in. No hope was given for her recovery, but the pastor who had called me, and the people of his church were holding onto God in her behalf. When I hung up the phone, God began to settle the burden down upon my heart. I just tried to put myself in her place as she had several small children as I did. I thought, "Now if I was in this condition, I would certainly appreciate someone being concerned about me." I went into my bedroom and began to earnestly pray. I picked up my Bible and turned to Ezekiel 16:6, and claimed this promise before God, "And when I passed by thee, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto thee when thou wast in thy blood, Live." I continued praying, believing that God was hearing, for fervent prayers were going up from God's people in the behalf of this dear lady. I turned in the Bible to Zachariah 3:2 and read, "And the Lord said unto Satan, The Lord rebuke thee, O Satan; ... is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?" Upon reading these words, a great calm came to my soul and I just rested the case in God's hands. I felt He had undertaken in her case and she would get well. I later heard that the wife of the pastor, who was Rev. Jerry Bell, had also felt some assurance that God was taking over.

  After the assurance came to my heart, I could not pray for her healing any longer. I could only thank God that He had heard. I waited a few days but I did not hear from anyone concerning her condition, so I decided to write a letter and express my belief that God had touched her and healed her. Oh, how the devil ridiculed me! He told me, "You're making a fool out of yourself. That woman is dead and you're writing to them saying you believe God has touched her." Well, the assurance was so real that I went ahead and wrote the letter verifying my faith in her healing. "What happened?" someone may be asking. Well, it turned out to be just as I believed it, God had touched her and wrought a mighty miracle of healing in her behalf. The hospital personnel called her the "Miracle Lady." Later she gave her heart to God, truly "a brand plucked out of the fire."

  It is truly wonderful what our Lord will do when we trust Him fully and take our hands off. Praise His Wonderful and Glorious Name forever and forever!

  Sometime later, the pastor who called us to pray, visited in our home and he was still rejoicing over this mighty miracle of God. Amen!

  Georgia D. McCain

  Directed by God To Find Keys Covered With Ten Inches of Snow

  One winter morning, we had an abundance of snow. I was using my garden tractor-snow plow to open our drive, and some drives for near neighbors, as well as the city walks in our section of town.

  I had worked about three hours before going into the house. I discovered my ring of keys was missing from my jacket pocket. They were keys for the garage, house and car. I had plowed them under the snow. A helpless feeling of utter inability to locate them chilled me more than the three hours of cold had done. Oh, how helpless I felt only God could know.

  The wonderful verse, I Timothy 2:1, came racing into my thought stream. I repeated it, "First of all let prayers be made." That was it! So I began: "Dear Lord, I'm going out that door and do my best to follow the leading of the Spirit for You know right where those keys are." I went out to the city walk and sensed the Spirit directing me to the right, and proceeded to where I had plowed a drive. "Right there," the Spirit whispered. I kicked away about ten inches of snow and there they were. Oh, what pleasure I got telling folk (saved and unsaved) how God directed me to find those keys. What a variety of responses came from the hearers. One unsaved neighbor wiped his eyes, while a so-called Christian wisely cracked, "Just plain luck." How many times God is discredited by such cold professors, while the tear of an outright sinner whispers something that only a trusting one can understand.

  Rev. Claude Eshelman

  A Mother Prays for Her Son

  An honest country mother, who was saved and blessedly sanctified and walked close to God, and who lived much upon her knees, had real, sweet blessed communion with the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, understood the language of prayer, and had been taught how to linger upon her knees, sat in my audience one night as I preached on "The Prodigal Son." A burden came upon her heart for the salvation of her drummer boy. She did not know where he was, had not heard from him for some time, but the burden slipped into her soul while we were preaching. The tears flowed from her eyes. She went home but could not rest. No sleep, the burden was pressing, growing heavier; something must be done. She could not stand it, so she called her niece. Taking her own lamp, she walked back to the church (a half mile distant), unlocked the church doors, and she and her niece entered God's sanctuary near midnight. She read His promises; she got down at the altar upon her face; she cried; she moaned; she groan
ed. The burden was awful; her soul was in agony. She knew something was coming. That boy had been placed upon her heart at this time as never before. Her soul was troubled. She cried out, "My God! My God! Hear this broken-hearted mother's prayer. Send the Holy Ghost to my boy just now. Wake him up. Alarm him. Stir him. Show him his lost and undone condition." Two o'clock came, and yet but very little light. She kept at it. She was a wheel horse. She knew all would be lost if she were to let up or let go; no distraction, nothing must call her off the wires; she must pray through. Three o'clock came. It grew darker, for the darkest hour is just before day. Seemingly, demons thick and fast gathered about that altar. She raised her face and eyes and hands, crying, "My God! My God! forsake me not. Why is it so dark? Thou knowest this crushing burden. Why did it come? Do not let the enemy defeat my soul. Hear me for Jesus' sake, for my broken heart's sake, for my poor troubled soul's sake." Four o'clock came. It had grown darker; fierce gales were coming; thunders were pealing; lightnings were flashing; the little bark was tempest tossed by the angry waves, but she held on to the oars. Five o'clock came. The awful typhoon had grown to a frightful pitch, but she stuck to her oars, she kept at it, nothing could daunt her. The devils out of hell and demons on earth could not deter, could not dismay; she said, "I'll die or have the victory." Five-thirty came. The clouds rifted; the sun came up over the eastern horizon; the blessed Holy Ghost took this broken-hearted, weeping, earnest, honest, sincere mother, who had wrestled, who had had real vital heart agony, who prayed clear through, in His arms, and said, "Your boy is coming home tomorrow, and will get saved."

  I had just gotten up, and came out on the front gallery, admiring her flower gardens, when she came around the road, waving her bonnet over her head, shouting, crying, laughing, hollering, "Isn't it wonderful, wonderful? God has told my soul--I know it; the Holy Ghost spoke it; I have the burning witness, the blessed sweet assurance - my drummer boy is coming." Her daughters ran out into the yard and threw their arms about their mother, and here came the sanctified father, and what a time we had in that yard that bright morning! What victory that mother had! She was more than conqueror, her face fairly shone. Eat breakfast? No--she was supping with Him.

  That morning at ten o'clock, while I was preaching, in walked a tall, nicely dressed young man. The good old mother (who always sat in a split-bottomed chair in the "Amen Corner") looked up and saw her drummer boy coming down the aisle. She jumped from that chair, and what shouting! She ran to that boy, threw her arms around him, and here they came to the altar in a long trot. The young man was gloriously saved that morning. I said, "How came you here? What brought you here? How were you impressed to get here?" He said, "Brother Harney, last night about midnight, I had a nightmare, or rather, a peculiar force got hold of me, a power got inside of me. Something said, 'Go home at once,' and I was fearful that Mother was sick. I never dreamed of going to the altar, but when I opened the church door and saw the church filled with people. and saw the shining face of my sweet mother, an awful conviction leaped into my soul, and I was willing, yea, more than willing, to go to the altar or do anything to get relief to get saved." He said to me, "It was about twelve o'clock when the alarm bells were turned into my soul." Remember, reader, this was the exact time that that saintly mother had gone in His house upon her knees for her boy.

  God has said, "I will hear when you pray. Ask, and ye shall receive. Ask largely, that your joy may be full." Had this mother listened to the voice of the enemy, looked at the discouragement, she would have given up; she would have gone from that church a defeated woman, and doubtless her boy would have gone to hell. God put that burden upon her. God knew that was the time for that drummer to get saved, and God also knew that was the time for that mother to wrestle, have heart agony, pray clear through for that boy. That mother was determined; her face was set, and she got the victory for which she prayed.

  Rev. W. J. Harney

  (This account was taken from the book, Praying Clear Through. Used by permission of the publishers.)

  She Prayed for Him Seventeen Years

  Having moved into a new section and hearing of an abandoned church that I might be able to open, I drove out into a new rural area, searching for a building and some people with which to start a new church. The Lord answered prayer for both in an unusual manner.

  I found the vacant building, learned from the neighbors who had charge of it, got their promise to attend if we reopened the church, and then started driving around surveying the community. About three miles from the prospective church, I came upon another church and saw that they were having services. So I parked and went in to get acquainted and to enjoy a service with them. They were in the midst of a revival meeting, and this morning's service was just about to begin. The pastor made himself acquainted with me, and learning that I was a minister, urged me to preach for them that morning. I finally agreed and went to the platform. Songs were sung and prayers made, and the pastor presented me to preach. Just as I arose to speak, the door opened and two men came in. They had their guns but stood them in a corner and sat down on a back seat. I learned later that they had been hunting and on passing the church felt compelled to stop for the service, even though neither of them ever attended church.

  One of the men was unusually large and looked like a tough character. When I read my Scripture and began to preach, he fixed his eyes right on me and hardly seemed to move them while I was preaching. When I had finished my little sermon, I simply said, "Now, if anyone wants to get saved, come on." Almost at once the big fellow was on his feet, made his way to the place of prayer, and in a few minutes was shouting the victory. He even picked me up and gave me a free ride around the church. I was amazed for I knew my bit of preaching was not the cause of his conversion.

  After the service was over, he came to me and insisted that I go home with him for dinner. "Preacher," he said, "you'll have to walk about two miles, but I want you to meet my wife." So leaving my car at the church, we took off across the ridge and down into a long hollow on the other side.

  When we had followed the path into the hollow, and started up the hollow, I could see in the distance a small house. As we drew closer, I could see the form of a woman standing in the door, looking at us. Then she moved into the yard and shading her eyes with her hand continued to watch us as we drew nearer. When we got almost to the foot log that went across the branch into the yard, she came over to the end of it on the other side, still peering closely at us. Then just as her husband stepped on the foot log and started across, she threw her bonnet into the air, let out a shout, and ran to meet and embrace him right in the center of that narrow log. Only God could have kept them from falling into the water below.

  How they did shout and rejoice together. How he apologized for the heartaches he had given her. And what joy there was as they rejoiced together. But the thing that struck my attention the most was her happy cry, "Oh, Frank, I've prayed for this for seventeen years." There it is. The secret is out. It wasn't my preaching. It was seventeen years of praying by a faithful companion. And before either of us had spoken a word, God had shown her that he had gotten saved.

  It wasn't but about a mile from their home back to the church building that I wanted to reopen, and did reopen soon after this, and that man and his wife became two of the pillars of that church.

  Many times since then, when we have been trying to get people who profess a lot of religion to pray even an hour, it seems I could hear the echo of a happy shout in the yard of a little country home, "Oh, Frank, l've prayed for this for seventeen years."

  Rev. David Denton

  (This account was taken from Rev. David Denton's book, It Happened As They Prayed. Address: P.O. Box 126, Concord, Tennessee 37720. Used by permission.)

  A Doctor Healed of Cancer

  On December 26, 1989, my right kidney and a rib were removed because of a kidney tumor. 1990 began for me as a patient on chemotherapy. I learned many lessons in those days. I learned the valu
e of caring and praying family, friends, and patients. I learned to appreciate accommodating surgeons, radiologists, pathologists, and oncologists, who made themselves available in times of pain and need. I learned the value of nurses who spent weary days and sleepless nights helping me through difficult times. I learned to appreciate the uncertainties and concerns that cancer brings and to understand the doubts patients have as they question why this happened.

  Six weeks after surgery, the diagnosis was changed from a malignant tumor to a benign one. In God's wonderful timing, I was in Huejutla, Mexico, where the church had met daily to pray for my healing when the telephone call came that I was well, cured, and all chemotherapy could stop.

  1991 promises to be a special year. My son, Dr. Carey Robinson, will join Robinson Eye Clinic and will begin seeing patients in July.

  Thank you for your support. I have learned from your countless prayers and messages that you are more than patients to me--you are friends.

  Dr. Thomas R. Robinson

  Alexandria, Louisiana

  One thing, especially, do I appreciate about Dr. Robinson is the fact that when I had cataract surgery done by him, he laid his hand on my head and prayed for me before he operated. A sense of calmness came over me and I felt reassured that the operation was in the hands of God. Because of a very unfortunate accident with my mother when she had cataract surgery done by another doctor, I was very apprehensive, but Dr. Robinson's prayer served to still the troubled waters. (Author)

  Our Little Angel, Nathaniel

  Though God has answered prayer and worked miracles in thousands of lives and in various ways, yet sometimes, in spite of our pitiful pleas to Him, He does not see fit to answer in the way we pray, or else He just says, "No" to our prayer. The Lord knows the future, which we do not, and usually His denial of our petition is the most loving thing our Heavenly Father could do for His trusting child though we can't understand and it breaks our heart and causes bitter tears. Such was the case with our dear little Nathaniel. We cried brokenheartedly to God in his behalf, but God, in His infinite wisdom and foresight, did not answer our prayers the way we wanted them to be answered. But because we know He does all things well, we have graciously accepted His sweet and perfect will, and are happily anticipating a grand reunion with our little darling, who is being well cared for until we see him again. Amen.

  Below is the story of our little Nathaniel Keith McCain.

  When I answered the phone, I knew by the excitement in his voice that the baby had arrived. I was just as excited as my son when I asked, "What is it?" "Guess," was the reply I received. "A boy," I guessed, and so it was. Its name--Nathaniel Keith. (Keith was part of his daddy's name.) Quite a big name for such a little boy. To be frank, I wasn't impressed by his name at first. I was telling my niece, Gail Bradley, his name and she said, "Oh, yes, you remember Nathaniel? Jesus saw him under the fig tree." I replied, "I wish they would have left Nathaniel under the fig tree." Of course, I was referring to the name, not our sweet, precious little baby boy. So you can readily see my first reaction to having our grandbaby named "Nathaniel." But later, when my daughter-in-law explained to me that they had named him "Nathaniel" because it meant "gift of God," my feelings changed immediately and I thought, "How sweet, for surely he is a special gift from God." After this, the name "Nathaniel" held a special significance to me.

  Nathaniel had a very exciting birth. When he was ready to make his entry into the world he was in a hurry. His daddy had to alert the doctor to go to the hospital, and then he called an ambulance for his wife. When the ambulance sped into the driveway of the hospital, the doctor was waiting and as he hurriedly got into the ambulance to check his patient, the baby was born, right in the ambulance. So my son had an exciting story to tell that memorable day, January 25, 1976.

  When Nathaniel was three weeks old, we were privileged to visit him and his parents, who were then the "Dean of Men" at the Hobe Sound Bible College. Also, my oldest daughter and husband were living in Stuart, Florida, and my youngest daughter was attending school at the Bible School in Hobe Sound, so we were able to see all of them and attend the Hobe Sound Camp.

  We fell in love with our new grandbaby on sight. My son had his camera ready to capture our expressions as we saw him for the first time. We joined him in taking pictures so that we could take some back home to show the relatives and friends. Someone had given me a "S.O.G. with P.I.P." book. This means "SILLY OLD GRANDMA with PICTURES IN PURSE." You grandmas know how it goes. "Let me show you this picture of my grandchild that I just happen to have in my purse." Anyway, we got some good shots. My favorite, I think, is the little darling in my arms with his head against my shoulder with his thumb stuck in his mouth. I thought nothing could be cuter and sweeter than that.

  Our allotted time for camp meeting and visiting our children passed away too swiftly, it seemed, and we soon had to return home. It was so hard to leave little Nathaniel. I stood by his little crib as I told him good-bye and bowed my head and prayed, "Lord, get this little one to Heaven at any cost," and then tearfully left him.

  A few days before his fourth month birthday, the phone rang and once again it was my son calling. I recognized his voice even though it was choked with emotion. I asked, "Danny, what's wrong, Son?" He said, "Mamma, it's my little boy. He has meningitis." What a blow! It just seemed the old world caved in on top of us. My mother had just been operated on, and this had been quite a strain on us, and now this. Oh, how hard it was to take. I just seemed to go all to pieces.

  My husband and I decided that I should fly down to be with my son and his wife. I thought, "I'm so torn up, emotionally, until I don't know what good I can do," but I felt constrained to go just the same. My oldest daughter and her husband who lived in Stuart, Florida, met the plane I was on and she assured me that God was helping my son and his wife in a wonderful way. She advised me to try to get control of my emotions for their sake, so I made a special effort to do so. We went directly to the hospital and when I saw my precious children, whose hearts had seemingly been torn out by the roots, I was amazed at the sustaining grace of God. Their strength and fortitude gave me strength and I was enabled to remain calm even though we were just outside little Nathaniel's room and could hear the sound of the respirator that was helping to sustain his slender thread of life. My son wanted me to go in and see him, and though it was one of the hardest things I have ever done, for their sakes, I put on a sterilized gown and mask and went in with them. The little darling whom I had left nearly three months before with a prayer that God would get him to Heaven at any cost, was unconscious and seemed about ready to enter that heavenly land. I did not linger long for the scene before me was so tragic that I wanted to get away.

  The doctor advised them to go home and get some rest, for he said the baby could linger on for an indefinite period of time. He gave no encouragement, whatsoever, that our precious little darling could get well and live a normal life. So they started spending the nights at home.

  About three days later, on May 25, the phone rang in their apartment and it was the doctor. He requested that they come to the hospital immediately. I went with them and as we rode along, with trembling voices, my son and his dear little wife sang the song, "How Firm a Foundation" while the tears flowed unchecked down my cheeks.

  My son told me later that God had comforted their hearts through this song right after little Nathaniel was admitted into the hospital and diagnosed as having meningitis. He said he and his wife walked out of the hospital and across the street. There was a church there and the door was opened so they went in and knelt at the altar to pray. They, then, picked up a hymnal and it opened to this song. As they read the words together, they both committed their baby to God, in life or in death. They wanted God to have His way. It was from this commitment that God reached underneath with His everlasting arms and sustained them in the darkest hour of their life.

  When we reached the hospital, we walked to the nurse's station and s
omeone told us that the doctor would come and talk to us. As we waited for the doctor, I saw a nurse enter our baby's room without a sterilized gown, and I knew what we had already suspected, that dear little Nathaniel had departed this life. The doctor confirmed this as he kindly spoke to the parents.

  They asked if they might see him and were granted permission. As my tears flowed, my son spoke to me, "He's all right, Mamma. He's with Jesus, the first one of the family to make it to Heaven." What wonderful words of consolation, "He's with Jesus." Safe in His keeping. And though we miss him down here, some day, if we stay true to Jesus, we will be reunited to part no more. Praise God forever.”

  When the write-up came out on the front page of the paper, hundreds of people read this confirmation of my son's faith. Quote, "I think of the hymn, 'How Firm a Foundation' and realize that faith is a firm foundation in a time like this. The Lord has a plan for our lives and if that plan includes taking our son, then the Lord will provide a way to see us through," McCain said quietly.

  The parents requested that instead of floral offerings that the intended money would be given to missions. God's people from all parts of the country stood by Danny and Mary in a wonderful way, with their prayers, financial assistance, and words of encouragement. Sympathy cards came from far and near. Only God knew what it meant to all of us.

  The following was sent to encourage their hearts, author unknown: