GALA festivals! Riotous colors! Flower-laden floats! Hats, pennants, pom-poms, cheers!
| HE AIR WAS ATHROB with band music, laughter, applause!
Good-natured throngs broke through the ropes to dance in the streets; while others played cards and gambled at sidewalk tables and open-air bazaars.
It was St, Petersburg, Florida, at the time of the Mardi Gras!
And on the sidewalk stood a lone, bewildered evangelist, wondering what to do with the bundle of handbills that hung limp over her arm,
No one here wanted to think of religion! Fun, revelry, gayety, land and water sports were the mood of the hour People were here to play—not to think about their souls; to be amused—not converted!
If Tampa had been a city of tourists, each out for a good time—a revival meeting the farthest thing from their thoughts then St. Petersburg was doubly so!
I studied the situation with a critical eye. I had never seen a city so completely given over to merry-making or tured into such a playground as was this! At night the off. Orchestras played while people turned the thoroug into dance floors, dancing with anybody and everybody met! Hundreds spent their hours in d poker chips, aling cards and stacking
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‘The day I began to distribute my “dodgers’”—handbills announcing the opening services of my tent campaign—the great week of special festivities began. Automobile parades with the most gorgeous floats passed through the streets, Thousands thronged the Esl gay-buntinged avenues to see the procession. They stood on the sidewalks or sat on cushions and
. folding chairs by the curbstones, Bright-awninged grandstands were also filled to creaking capacity!
The whinny of impatient, high-mettled, satin-sheened horses; the frantic gyrations of cheer leaders directing yells and songs for particular floats; the wail of official motorcycles, as white-gloved, sprucely uniformed patrolmen cleared the way— all this was the order of the day!
“Oh!” I groaned, “How am I ever going to attract the attention of this city to my meeting and to Christ?”
Suddenly, as I stood watching the parade of cars, an inspiration came—why not join the procession? I had an automobile. Could I not deck it up and thus advertise the meeting and catch the public interest at the same time?
Desperate conditions sometimes require desperate measures!
These people were all representing their state and their business. Well, my state was the state of Salvation! My business was that of preaching the gospel!
With palmetto, gray moss, ferns and delicate greens, I transformed wheels, fenders and body of the automobile into a beautiful green hill. White sheets were stitched together to form the little tent which I placed on this miniature hill. Of course the tent was replete with ridge poles, wall poles, guy ropes and little colored flags! Upon the sides of the tent I painted the words:
“JESUS SAVES! REPENT AND BE CONVERTED! I'M ON MY WAY TO THE TENT REVIVAL —R. U.?”
With the baby organ and what singers could be crowded within the tiny space under the tent, I set forth early the next morning with much trepidation!
Slowly but surely the floats were moving out into the street at the place of ensemble. Bands were playing, flags were flying, a spirit of gala festivity pervaded the air.
But all I could do was watch with round, questioning eyes the traffic officer at the corner! How might I gain access to the line? Everyone else had been registered; each had a number and pass—the number being displayed prominently on the front and rear of each automobile! The officer's bu to chec line, iness seemed to be these numbers and admit the floats to their place in
At last our turn came.
“Oh-h!” I thought to myself, “Here is where we turned back!”
The officer, however, evidently thought he had checked our number for, turning his back, he held up his hand to stop the traffic from the othe: ion and motioned for us to move into line, saying impatiently, as we hesitated:
“Go on! Go on!”
Needless to say we went on!
Before us, in the parade, was the Chamber of Commerce float. Immediately behind were the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, the telephone companies, the merchants!
We had not gone far before we realized our float was awakening considerable interest.
“What—what’s this?” the people asked. “Jesus saves? Repent and be converted?”
From underneath the tent came singing
“For You I Am Praying,” and “Have You Forgotten God
Bursts of hand-clapping came from the crowd which lined the streets. The very audacity of the thing which we had done seemed to appeal to them. “Good sportsmanship,” they commented.
The sign on the tent caught their attention:
dires
M GOING TO THE TENT REVIVAL. R. U.?"
“Sure, I'm going,” they said to one another. “Are you?’
“Well, I certainly am!” many replied in answer, “Any one who has ambition and ingenuity enough to get up an affair like that should be interesting enough to listen to; let's go!
That night the tent was filled to capacity, and we had no lack for capacity audiences while in that city! * The next meeting was held in a large wooden tabernacle in Durant, Florida, twenty miles from Tampa, and produced a “doubting Thomas” who was eventually convinced of the mighty miracle-working power of Christ.
This man took special exception to the thought that the prayer of faith still saves the sick.
_ _ One Sunday afternoon, when the meeting was at its height, this brother waited until the audience was dismissed to eat lunch, then started an opposition meeting just the other side of the fence that enclosed the grounds, setting forth his theory that miracles were only for the Bible days and that all power had ceased with the writing of the last chapter of the last book in the Bible!
Meanwhile, unaware of this brother's actions, I was preparing for the evening service. The lighting problem in Durant had been a difficult one, as the tabernacle was too far from any civic center to be supplied with electricity. Having decided that the kerosene and gasoline lamps in use were not bright enough, T had brought with me a calcium carbide lighting outfit.
To operate this, a large tub was filled with water; a drum with a top that could be removed was placed in the center of the tub, and filled with carbide. As the carbide dropped down and touched the water, a gas formed. This gas rose through pipes and was carried along to various parts of the building in a similar manner to that in which gas is piped into our homes.
No one else on the grounds understood the system. I was on my knees working with it when an accident occurred, and this accident made the “doubting Thomas” a sincere believer!
The gas was nicely generating, and I had lighted the tap just above my head. Evidently the bottom became unlatched, and the carbide, instead of dropping slowly, poured into the tub, causing it to boil and bubble violently!
I stooped over the tub with my face quite close, trying to figure out just what the matter was, when suddenly the gas touched the light above and the whole thing exploded, enveloping my face in a sheet of flame!
My first thought was that the great wooden tabernacle would be burned. Somehow I managed to stay right where I was until I had turned off the tap and the flame was extinguished. There were only a few people in the building at the moment, and I remember how astonished they were. One man dropped to his hands and knees and crept under the seats clear to the door!
He looked so funny that in spite of my pain I burst into laughter y face, for an instant after the explosion, felt icy cold, but a moment and it was flaming hot! What a peculiar sight I was! My face was black, and my eyebrows and eyelashes were gone, as well as all my hair that was exposed. Fortunately, I had on a tight-fitting hat. The pain was so violent that, runni over to the cottage where we were living, I did the most fool. ish thing possible—buried my face in a pan of cold water! long as I could keep it in the water, excluding the air, the pain was alleviated, but the mom fering was nse than ever.
My face be; lister. Some of the ladies came with soda pplied it, Up and down, up and down, I walked under the trees, and all this time the crowds were gathering in the tabernacle fo vening service. Someone had repaired the lightystem. I could see automobile headlights coming down the ad, hear the cars drawing up, doors opening and closing, see the people entering the building, see the wagons lumbering up and unloading their quotas.
One thought above all others predominated: “What, oh, what will that brother say who told the people that the Lord no longer answers prayer on behalf of the afflicted? The meeting nt it was taken out, my sufore int to will be ruined
Ten minutes to meeting time five minutes to meeting time... meeting time, and still I walked up and down, scarce able to endure the agony.
Five minutes after meeting time... ten minutes after meeting time!
I had rather a record of never being late to service. Some evangelists like to have the song leader start the service and carry it on for half an hour and then themselves walk in fresh the last moment for the message, but somehow I have never been able to do that. I have always loved to be in the services from the earliest possible moment and catch the spirit of it, the better to decide upon the tenor of my message
Sure enough, my worst fears were realized! The man in question got to his feet, a bold sort of fellow he was anyway, and began to make a speech, assuring the people that there would be no meeting that night as the lady who preached Salvation and Divine Healing was ill, having burned her face!
The gist of what he said reached my ears, and I was shaken with righteous indignation!
Rushing to the pan of water, I washed off the soda, at least
-all except one spot on the end of my nose which I missed and found later! With my stiffly starched white collar bespattered with water, my eyebrows and eyelashes gone, and my hair singed, it must have been rather a wild figure that Presented itself at the tabernacle door! But praying for strength, and telling the Lord I would go in His name alone, I entered and mounted the platform.
I gave out the page number of the first hymn, my lips so stiff with the burn that I could scarcely articulate. At the end of the first verse I lifted up one of my hands and in desperate faith, exclaimed:
“I praise the Lord that He heals me and takes all the pain away!”
A great shout went up from the camp.
My intense suffering was relieved instantly, and right before the eyes of the audience, the angry red burn faded from my face, the little white blisters that were forming disappeared, and at the end of the service the flesh had resumed its normal appearance! This turned the tide of battle decidedly in favor of the unchanging power of God, and the doubter was put to shame and silence.
*
Spring was at hand, the northern states were calling, the southern campaign was brought to a triumphant close, and I piloted the gospel car northward with my family.
Tt was late at night when we neared the state of Virginia. We all expressed the desire to press on and spend the night on good old Virginia soil. We had heard of the warm-hearted hospitality of its people. Crossing the border we entered a sleeping little town and drew up under the trees by the side of the road to unfold tent and bed and prepare for the night.
The next morning, as we prepared to resume our journey, tly from home, came hurrying across the road with a silver tray, laden with a large glass bowl full of ripe, crimson strawberries, a pitcher of thick cream and a bowl of powdered sugar! Then a little girl came running from another house next door with a pan of steaming hot biscuits and a quart of fresh milk! Neither of the families in those two houses knew what the other had done! It was our first experience with the far-famed Virginia hospitality!
The next meetings were held in Pulaski and Roanoke and were well attended.
Among the number who surrendered to the Lord at Pulaski was a young woman, a bride of but a few months, a frail little flower that seemed too delicate to bloom long in the garden of the world. Shortly after her conversion, we missed her for a few days.
One evening, as I was stepping into our car, a young man with rather a wild look in his eyes, rushed up, seized my arm, and exclaimed excitedly:
Sister! Can you come with me? Can you come to my house at once? My wife is dying and calling for you. She is the one who gave her heart to the Lord a few nights ago. They say she won't live until morning! She is suffering convulsions! Won't you come, please?”
I smiled at him. “Yes, brother. I must conduct a meeting now, but as soon as it is over I will com
Meeting over, I was on my way to the small home in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Pushing the throttle down hard, I managed to steer the car successfully over the rough wagon trails full of deep ruts, winding, twisting among the trees that stood like sentinels silhoutted against the night sky. An opening in the forest—a stone fence, its flinty material gleaned labori ously from the austere soil—and behind it the rose glow of a window and an open doorway. There was a group of neighbors standing on the tiny porch with uncovered heads.
The little company stepped silently aside to let me pass. There upon a bed drawn near a window of the small living room lay the little sufferer propped up on pillows.
Her eyes brightened when she saw me.
She reached out a tiny transparent hand and drew me down a man who, with his wife, had been watching us int the porch of their nearby beside her. “I did want you to come! Haven't been converted long, you know. It's—it’s all so new to me—and none of my people are Christians—nor our neighbors either. I wanted— Christians near me—when I died.”
She gasped, clinging with pathetic weakness to my hand, the thin little chest rising and falling spasmodically with the
_ effort of speech.
“Iwill stay beside you,” I assured her.
Quickly and quietly the company: father, mother, sister, brother and husband disappeared from the room, The neighbors stood still on the porch.
“Sister—tell me about Heaven—will you? What is—is it— like?”
I told her about the wondrous beauty of that home above— of the gates of pearl, the walls of precious stones, the streets of pure gold, the beautiful mansions prepared for God's children. I painted as best I could the glory of the rainbow round about the throne, and told her of the air athrill with the praises of the heavenly choirs and elders before the throne crying, "Holy! holy! holy!”
"We will never be tired, sick, or sorrowful up there. Everything will be so wonderful with Jesus forever and forever!” I said, trying to comfort her.
Upon her request I sang, with a lump in my throat and eyes misty with tears: “There's a land that is fairer than day, and by faith we can see it afar; For the Father waits over the way to prepare us a dwelling place there!”
Suddenly I stopped, realizing that she was passing quickly.
“Darling, don’t go yet! Isn’t there something you want to say to someone?”
“Oh, yes!—my husband, father, mother. Call them all quickly, Sister!”
I have never witnessed since that time such a sight as I saw then! Frank, the husband, knelt beside her; the mother stood at the left; the father took his place at the foot of the bed; brother and sister stood in the doorway. What hardy mountaineers they all were—what a frail little spirit she was in the midst of it all!
One by one she called them to her side, put her thin arm around them, and whispered:
“Will you give your heart to Jesus? Will you—meet me in heaven?
One by one, with tears streaming down their rugged faces, they answered “Yes!
Then, giving my fingers a little appreciative squeeze, she looked about her and said in a sweet, clear voice:
Jesus is calling me—I must go. Good-by. Meet me-
Heaven.” And her voice faded away sweetly and softly.
Foldi 1s upon her breast, closing her eyes, she took e gentle short breath and was gone. The little silver ship with golden s all set had put out to sea. Christ was at the helm and faith was at the rudder. Truly there is no fear, no horror of death w r lowed up in victory! There was silence in the room for a few moments, and then, with choking sobs, the little family kneeled in a row at the bedside and I pointed them to the Lamb of God that taketh orld. short time later that I clad hill amid the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia and con ducted the simple funeral service. As the first shovelful of earth dropped in upon the casket, a little shudder passed over us all. Oh, what a terrible sound it is—like the dropping of dull, thadstones upon the heart!
But above it all, away up yonder beyond the never-silent tree tops, I seemed to hear her swect voice say
"I am going to Heaven now. I will meet you in the morni g her han n Christ is near; for death is swa!
away the sins of the
Tt was but a tood upon a verdure-