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Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations aretaken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Run with the VisionISBN 1-58568-477-5Copyright © 2010 by LeSEA Publishing Co.Fourth Printing February 2010

Printed in the United States of America. All rights reservedunder International Copyright Law. Contents and/or covermay not be reproduced in whole or in part in any formwithout the express written consent of the Publisher.

LeSEA Publishing Co.530 E. Ireland Rd.South Bend, IN 46614

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FOREWORD

All of us have a vision for our lives. Maybe it’s asolid family life or a business accomplishment. ButLester Sumrall had a different vision, a vision to win amillion souls to Jesus Christ. This vision was impartedto Dr. Lester Sumrall when he was a young man, and heheld on to that vision every day of his life until he wentto heaven in 1996.

As a young man who had not been a Christian forvery long, much less in ministry, God laid on his heart avision of people going to hell. It was a horrible vision, acalling which seemed impossible to fulfill. But God hadlaid it upon his heart, and Lester pleaded with God toshow him how he could fulfill it.

As the years progressed, God opened doors that ayoung Lester could have never envisioned. God usedhim to hold huge crusades, open churches in many coun-tries, serve as a pastor of a local church, and publishbooks and write articles around the world. In time, Godopened a wonderful new world of electronic media thatallowed him to use radio, television, satellite and theinternet for ministry. The final call on Dr. Sumrall’s lifewas to meet the need of a starving world by launchingthe relief ministry LeSEA Global Feed the Hungry. Thecall of God to launch such a program came in Novem-ber of 1987 while Dr. Sumrall was leading a tour groupto Jerusalem. God awakened him and said that he wasresponsible to feed “God’s hungry.” What a calling!

As you read this book, I trust and pray that you feelthe call to Run with the Vision that God has given you, avision of hope and life, a vision to reach out to helppeople around you. My Dad believed in never givingup, never going backwards, always pushing towards the

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vision that God implants in each of us. For some of usthat may be ministry to our families and friends, whileto others it may be a ministry as a pastor or broadcastingthe Gospel message through electronic media. Whateveryour calling, Run with the Vision!

Yours for the untold billions yet untold,

Pete Sumrall

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Affectionately dedicated to my wife,LOUISE LAYMAN SUMRALL,

who has untiringly, unselfishly and lovingly la-bored with me in the gospel in many countries and

under many circumstances.

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England, France, Jerusalem, Australia, Manila, HongKong, South Bend, Indiana. With strong commitmentand tirelessness of purpose, Lester Sumrall has taken toheart the Lord’s command to “go. . .into all the worldand preach the gospel to every creature.”

At the age of seventeen, Lester faced two alternatives:death or the ministry. It was then that he chose topreach—and the subsequent life he’s had has been re-markable beyond anyone’s imagination.

Run With The Vision is the life story of a worldwidepreacher whose pulpit spans the globe and whose Godloves all men whatever their citizenship may be.

Lester Sumrall is fond of saying, “When you feed yourfaith, you starve your doubts.” This volume will be foodfor your faith.

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PREFACE

A new book is something like a new gun. Until it istested one is not sure of its precision or its strength. Thisstory of a life lived for God is sent forth with eagerness thatit shall reach the mark to bless, to heal, and to create faith.

During his days of hardship, Job did not realize he wasliving a book. His story became a book later. In the excitingadventures of my life the thought of placing them in printwas not considered. My only thoughts were of victoriouslyaccomplishing the tasks that God had given me to do.

From the time I was seventeen, I have sincerely soughtto live in the will of God as revealed to me. I cannot re-member a time when the Lord ever led me in any directionthat I did not follow. This is one great reason for the varietyof circumstances contained in this volume.

A constant inspiration of my life has been the three greatkeys to the life of the Apostle Paul. They are found in Ro-mans 1:14-16.

In verse sixteen Paul said he was “not ashamed of thegospel of Christ.” In the church of his day were many shame-ful things. There was Ananias and Sapphira who were struckdead for lying. Then there was the group in Corinth who

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only went to church when their favorite minister cameto town. But Paul was never ashamed of the gospel.

Whatever problems denominations have or whateverproblems doctrines create, we go beyond them to say weare not ashamed of the pure and simple gospel of Christ.It is still the power of God unto salvation to all whobelieve.

The second key to Paul’s life is in verse fifteen, “Iam ready to preach the gospel in Rome.” Paul was a truevigilante—a true minute man. When God spoke in theevening, he was on the trail by morning. He could de-clare with a clear conscience, “I was not disobedient untothe heavenly vision.” Whether across seas or mountainsor plains or bandit infested territory, Paul was ready. ThisI have sought to be—ever ready and willing for any-thing God desired of me.

The third key to Paul’s life is the statement, “I am adebtor,” verse fourteen. The apostle was not a debtormaterially. He recognized a moral and spiritual debt to apaganistic, demonistic world that needed divine deliver-ance. He paid his debt by the day and never ceased pay-ing that debt.

I have sought to walk in these three dimensions and Ihave learned that Christ is ever the same. All that He hasdone, He does today.

I trust that these chapters will create in you two de-sires: (1) To be holy before the Lord and pure in Hissight; (2) to follow Him implicitly, without hesitation,so that when He speaks, we obey.

As I often say at the close of our daily telecast, “Whenyou feed your faith, you starve your doubts.” May thisvolume be food for your faith.

—Lester Sumrall

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The white-headed physician breathed heavily andslowly shook his head as he stood up after examiningmy seventeen-year-old, ninety-two pound frame. Hemotioned Papa over to the corner of my room and I lis-tened in horror to his cold, guttural tone. “I’m going backto the office now,” he said. “There’s nothing more I cando. I can’t even get a blood pressure reading or drawenough blood from his veins for a test.”

For six months now the tuberculosis that ravaged mybody had grown progressively worse. For the past sev-eral weeks I had been confined to bed. The doctor’s vis-its had been frequent but futile. On that early autumnafternoon I had started to choke and turn blue in the face.Mother called Papa from his job at the machine shop toour home overlooking Saint Andrews Bay in PanamaCity, Florida.

I had been spitting blood every day for weeks. Evenin the night, blood would run from my mouth and ontothe pillow and bedclothes. Terrible night sweats mingledthe stain of perspiration with the blood. But that after-noon it was much worse. Half-panfuls began to hemor-rhage from one terrible heaving.

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Mother and other loved ones stood now at the foot ofmy bed and wept. But their weeping did not prevent mefrom hearing the doctor again. “The boy is as good asdead now,” I heard him say. “Call anyone you wish tosee him. In two hours there will be no life left.”

Two hours to live—it’s the most frightening thingthat could happen to a boy. My time had run out before itstarted; my life was over before it began. I had not hadtime to live and now it was time to die.

I wasn’t ready to die—I knew that. I wasn’t even readyto live. But I had run God’s last red light and there wasno place further to go.

The doctor picked up his bag to leave and turned againto my father. “I’ll fill out the death certificate for Lestertonight and you can come by the office to pick it up inthe morning. Then you can go down to the cemetery andchoose a burial lot.”

In my frightened, bewildered young mind I was awareof the door closing behind the doctor as he went out intothe night.

This wasn’t the first time I had been close to death.But it had never seemed so certain—so final. I can’t saythat my life necessarily flashed before me at that mo-ment, but I was aware that on several previous occa-sions my life had been miraculously spared.

Just two or three years after I was born in New Or-leans, Louisiana, in 1913, I was taken by the dreadeddisease, pellagra. The doctor had told my mother I woulddie from this disease that was, at that time, extremelycommon among the “poor whites” of the South. Thiswas years before doctors knew that pellagra was causedby a dietary deficiency and could be prevented by theinclusion of fresh fruits, vegetables, and milk in the dailymeals.

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Mother called the ladies from her prayer group at thechurch where she attended. They came to the house topray for me and God answered them with a miracle. Laterthe doctor who had given me up to die saw me withoutany blotches, and could not believe it was the samechild. God’s cure left no defects from the ravagingdisease.

At the age of five or six, I was playing on a railroadswitching track near where we lived at the time in Lau-rel, Mississippi. I was totally unaware of the loose box-car rolling down the track behind me in my direction.Suddenly, my oldest brother, Houston, more than twicemy size, hit me and together we rolled off the track, inchesahead of the sharp steel wheels of the engineless freightcar. Until that moment I had thought I was alone, oblivi-ous to the danger that shadowed me.

A few years later I narrowly escaped death by drown-ing. It happened on a mild winter day when two friendsand I decided to play hooky from school and walk downto the swimming hole near Laurel.

Winter rains had swollen the normally lazy waters ofTallahala Creek. The other boys, undeterred, challengedone another, “Let’s swim across.” The cool weather didnot prevent them from stripping off “jaybird” and div-ing into the muddy current. I was the youngest and thelast to dive in. My two stronger companions got acrossto the sandbank. I swam about halfway across but foundmy strength no match for the swollen stream. The cur-rent swiftly began to carry me away and as I weakened itsucked me completely under.

What happened in the next few moments I can onlyreport from what was told me. One of the boys on thesandbank, the local preacher’s son, panicked. “Let’s gethome; we’re in trouble! He’s gone!”

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Lavert Hollifield, the other boy, protested. “No, Iwon’t do that. Let’s look for him.”

“I’m not going to look for him,” the preacher’s kidanswered, looking wide-eyed at the turbid foam thatcovered me. He left us.

Lavert dove in and felt along the sandy creek bottomuntil he found me, and with a desperate struggle draggedmy body out onto the bank. I was not breathing and mylungs were filled with water. Lavert didn’t know toomuch about artificial respiration. He just turned me overand punched my back until the mud and water gushedout and I gasped for air. He stayed there with me untilmy senses returned. Then together we made it backacross the river to our clothes and Lavert helped mehome.

Shortly after that, my family moved to Mobile, Ala-bama, and once again, I flirted with death. It was Febru-ary, Mardi Gras time in Mobile, and I was sixteen. Thatnight I wore a mask and a new heavy, navy blue sweater,running through the streets of the city with two otherboys. The whole town seemed to be going crazy. Wewere running and screaming and looking for mischief,when it found us. A little creature that looked like a girl,although you couldn’t be sure, came up and hit me. Ispun around and walloped her with my fist, knockingher flat onto the street. The next thing I knew the guywho was with her pulled a long razor and slashed out atme. I fell backwards and as I did the razor sliced cleanthrough my thick sweater and shirt, cutting it all the waydown the front. The girl got up and they both ran away,not knowing whether they had cut me or not. But onceagain I had escaped the death angel’s call.

I was aware of these times that I had a scrape withdeath, and now as the doctor was leaving our house to

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fill out my death papers, I thought my luck had finallyrun out—that the end had come.

At that moment God gave me a vision. It was themost dramatic and significant thing that would ever hap-pen to me. I looked to the right side of my bed and there,suspended in midair, was a casket. I was not dreaming,nor was I asleep. It was bright, vivid, real. It was evenbeautiful, lined with soft silk and bedecked with whitelilies and red roses all around. The casket was turned upjust a little so that I could see inside. It was empty, and Iwas impressed that it was just my size.

I had never seen a vision before. It frightened me.Fitfully I turned onto my left side, hoping to escape.

There on the left, resting in midair beside my bed,was an open Bible. It was as big as my bed, larger thanany book I had ever seen. And without being told I knewthat the Bible meant that I was to preach.

God spoke to me at that moment, as I glanced fever-ishly back to the casket and then again to the open book.“Lester, which of these will you choose tonight?”

It was not an audible voice. Yet it was as distinct andfirm as any voice I had ever heard. God was giving mea choice.

I wanted to be anything but a preacher. I despisedpreachers. I wasn’t even a Christian. At the same time, Iwas horrified at the thought of dying. To me the opencasket meant much more than just a grave. It meanthell—everlasting torment. I had heard enough preachingto know if I died that night, hell would be my eternaldestiny.

Not being ready to die, I wanted to live at any cost.Looking straight at the Bible I prayed, “God, if the onlyway in the world for me to live is to preach—I’ll preach.”And then to confirm what I had just said, I added, “If

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you will let me live as long as I preach, one day I will bethe oldest man in the world, because I won’t ever stoppreaching.”

I meant it. That commitment to preach was also mycommitment to give my heart to Jesus Christ. I acceptedboth His calling and His full salvation. It was settled.

The vision was over. As I drifted into a deep, sweetslumber there was a sense of destiny. My life had beenpreempted by a higher power.

I was the only one in our house who slept much thatnight. As I rested in peace the finger of God touched mylungs and healed them. When I opened my eyes to thenext morning’s light, my dear mother stood over my bed.She had kept her vigil throughout the night. Her eyeswere blurry from weariness and weeping, and I had neverseen her look more beautiful. My fever was gone. Andthere was not one drop of blood on my pillow.

Mother, seeing that I was awake, asked if there wasanything she could do.

“I’m hungry,” I smiled at her. It was the first time Ihad been hungry in weeks.

Mother turned toward the kitchen, “I’ll get you somegrape juice.’’

“Oh, no, Mother,” I called back to her. “I’ve had allthe grape juice I want for a long, long time.”

“What do you want, Lester?”“What did Papa have for breakfast?”She told me that he had eaten ham and eggs, hot bis-

cuits, grits, and red-eye gravy.Hearing her describe Papa’s breakfast made me more

hungry than ever. “That’s what I want.”Mother began to cry again. “Oh no, no, no. You

haven’t had any heavy food in your stomach and youwould die!”

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I grinned weakly at her and teased, “Well, I want todie full of ham and eggs and hot biscuits, and gravy-with grits.”

Mother replied hesitantly, “Well, the doctor said youare going to die anyway. I’ll give you what you asked.At least your last desire will be granted.”

She prepared the huge hot breakfast that I had or-dered. And when she sat it down beside my bed sheturned her back and began to sob again.

I ate. Oh, how I ate! I cleaned my plate and asked fora second helping. Mother insisted, “Let’s wait and see ifthis hurts you.” But it didn’t hurt me.

I explained, “Mother, I have seen a vision.” I toldher about the casket and the great open book, and I lookedher in the face and said, “Mother, I am going to be apreacher.”

That little shouting mother of mine was overjoyed.All her prayers for seventeen years suddenly came true.She began to rejoice in the Lord. She had a right to re-joice.

“Oh, Lord, I thank you; I thank you. I knew you woulddo it!” She lifted her hands in thanksgiving and praiseas her heart bubbled over. Mother was elated that I hadbeen healed of tuberculosis. But she was even more exu-berant that her rebellious prodigal had come “home.”

Mother had prayed for me since I could remember.During family devotions I had often heard her pray,“Lord, please make Lester a preacher.”

Afterwards I would beg her, “Mother, don’t pray that.”Two of my older brothers, Houston and Ernest, were

already ministers and were pastoring churches.Mother had been brought up in a Methodist home, and

as a young girl she felt the call of God on her life to becomea missionary to China. She still regretted that she had

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followed the advice of her pastor who told her, “A womanhas no place on the mission field.” He suggested thatshe become a business secretary—which she did.

Later Mother had received the baptism of the HolySpirit. Although Papa did not receive Christ at that time,she was faithful to take her seven children to a Full Gos-pel church and Sunday school.

Anna, my oldest sister, had also felt an urgent call ofthe Lord to be a missionary to China. But Anna refusedGod’s call and married a sinner. She died at an early age.

I was next to the baby of the family, Leona being theyoungest. The two of us were the only ones left at homenow. Of all her children, I had been my mother’s great-est heartache. I was disobedient, rebellious, and had ahot, fast temper. In her frustration, Mother had eventhreatened to send me to a detention home. But most ofall, she loved me and prayed for me.

Several had been the occasions when I would returnhome at two o’clock in the morning, after a night ofreveling with my friends, to stumble over my mother’sfeet as I groped for my bed in the darkness.

“What are you doing in my room?” I would ask.“I’m praying for you, Lester,” Mother would answer,

and go down to the living room to continue her prayer. Ididn’t sleep easy on those nights. In my heart I kneweven then that God had a higher plan for my life than Ihad for myself.

My strength returned quickly after my healing. I hadfresh air and sunshine in abundance from the twenty-four windows that formed the walls of my room over-looking Saint Andrews Bay and the Gulf of Mexico. Thefresh air and sunshine had not been sufficient for myhealing. That had taken the touch of God.

In three days I was walking all over the house and

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eating everything my mother would prepare for me. Inten days I was out in a boat on the gulf, fishing with afriend. Life was quickly returning to normal.

It was on a morning only three weeks following myvision and healing that I was praying in my room andGod spoke to me a second time. “You promised me youwould preach if I healed you,” His voice impressed me.“What are you waiting for?”

With a sudden sense of urgency I rushed downstairsto where my father was eating breakfast and announced,“Papa, I’m going to go out and preach. I’m going today.”

Papa was really upset. He snorted and raved andthreatened. “You’re not going to do any such thing.You’re not strong enough to go. You wouldn’t know any-thing to say if you did go.”

My father wasn’t a Christian man. His low opinionof preachers in general was reflected when he fumed, “Idon’t want all my sons to be beggars. Preachers are outbegging for a living.” He hit the table and cursed, “Iwant you to have a real job. Why do you think I havealready spent a lot of good money to teach you a trade?”

“No, Papa. I’ve got to go and preach.”“You’re not going to do it.”“But God said I had to preach.”“God nothing!” That 225-pound Irish father of mine

jumped from his chair in a rage. My spirit withered likea leaf and I just stood there trembling and weeping. Iwas shattered.

Finally I turned and ran back up the stairs to my room.The last words I heard him yell after me were, “Youwould starve to death if you went!”

In the sanctuary of my bedroom I fell on the floorand cried, “My heavenly Father says ‘go,’ and my earthlyfather says ‘no.’ What can I do Lord?”

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Through my tears God impressed upon my mindIsaiah 41:10 and 11. I had never read those verses be-fore and I had no idea what they were about. But thatstill, small voice was so definite that I spread my Bibleopen before me on the floor and began to read.

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee. . . .”As I read that promise something instantly changed

inside me. God’s love overwhelmed me. He reacheddown and took fear out of my being. Now I was laugh-ing and crying at the same time. It took me about anhour to regain my composure enough to finish readingthe verses:

“…be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I willstrengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I willuphold thee with the right hand of my righteous-ness.

“Behold, all they that were incensed againstthee shall be ashamed and confounded: they shallbe as nothing; and they that strive with thee shallperish.”

“All right, God,” I said aloud, “if you’re going withme, I’m ready to go.”

I went to the closet and pulled out a little forty-ninecent brown, fiberboard suitcase. It didn’t take long tofill it with what few clothes I had. My father had al-ready left for work when I marched downstairs again,suitcase in hand.

“Where are you going?” my mother wanted to know.“Out to preach.”“But, son, where are you going to preach? You have

nowhere to go.”“I don’t know where I’m going, Mother, but I’ve got

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to go.” I kissed her goodbye and walked out onto thefront porch. I would never return to that house again.

A young friend of mine who owned an old jalopy carwas in front of the house. Today I can’t even rememberhis name. I told him where I was going and he volun-teered to go with me. Why not? He had nothing else todo. Together we chugged up the road. I was not at allsure of our destination, but I was compelled by an unex-plainable pressure of destiny. I had to be obedient tothat heavenly vision. And I knew that I was not alone.

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2My friend and I headed north in his old Overland

car. I was too naive to know that a newly converted,seventeen-year-old boy couldn’t just go out and preachwithout any preparation, and without a church to preach in.

We nursed the old jalopy up the road, having to stopevery five miles to refill the radiator with water. We weregrowing hungry when at one stop we spotted a persim-mon tree standing beside the road, hanging heavy withits bright orange fruit. We shook the tree of its ripebounty, then sat down in the grass underneath and ateour fill. Our faith and our spirits were high at that mo-ment. We imagined how Elijah must have felt after be-ing fed by the ravens by the brook Cherith.

We had not traveled more than forty or fifty milesfrom Panama City when we noticed a little, white, one-room frame schoolhouse sitting out in the middle of acotton patch. Something inside me said, “That’s theplace.” We stopped and inquired at a nearby farmhouseto learn who was in charge of the school building.

Upon finding the farmer who kept the key, I asked inmy most polite but authoritative voice, “Sir, we want touse that schoolhouse to preach in.”

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I must not have looked too much like a preacher tothe old farmer as I stood there in all my ninety-twopounds of city-boy finery. The farmer glanced first atmy peach fuzz complexion, then at my clean, manicuredfingernails, and down to my neatly pressed white trou-sers. I couldn’t tell whether the expression on his face re-flected bewilderment or amusement—maybe a little of both.

Perhaps I had better explain a bit more to him, Ithought. “I’ve been sick of tuberculosis and if I don’tpreach I’ll die of tuberculosis. God healed me to preach.”

He was still looking at me sort of funny so I contin-ued with a threat. “If you don’t let me have that school-house to preach in then I will die and you will be to blame.”

At that the poor farmer’s mouth dropped open andthe tobacco juice ran out the side and dribbled downonto his chin. “Now son,” he drawled, with a twinkle inhis eye, “I wouldn’t want you to die.”

“Well, let us have the schoolhouse.” I failed to seethe humor in it.

He rummaged around in his pockets and came outwith an old key that fit the schoolhouse door. We thankedhim, then under our breath we thanked the Lord andstarted to go.

As an afterthought I turned and asked, “Would youmind loaning us a lantern too?” He let us have the lan-tern. That night revival began in the old country school-house, I as the evangelist and my friend as the songleader.

After getting the key, we just went up and down theroad telling everyone we saw about the meeting. Eightfarmers were present the first night. Word of the revivalspread rapidly throughout the countryside and the crowdsgrew night after night.

On the first evening of the revival one of the farmers

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invited us to stay in his home. After a day or two hegreeted me gruffly one morning at the breakfast table.“Boy, in my house if you don’t work, you don’t eat.”

I thought I had been working, preaching every nightand preparing for the services during the daytime. Thefarmer saw it differently. He handed me two big pailswith “Standard Oil” printed on them and ordered, “Here,take these slop buckets and go feed my pigs.”

I wasn’t accustomed to that type of work but I soonlearned. It was a few hundred yards from the house downto the pigpen. As I carried the heavy buckets, the foulsmelling “slop” sloshed over onto my clothes and intomy shoes and all over my pride. By the time I got downto where the pigs were kept I was upset and angry at theworld.

I didn’t even know how to call hogs. I just yelled,“Come and get it.” They came. And as the pigs gruntedand made hogs of themselves, tears ran down my cheeks.“Oh, God, I thought I was a prodigal son and now Iknow it.”

Setting the empty buckets down in the mud besidethe pigpen, I went out into the corn patch nearby. Ibegged, “Please, God, let me go back home. Or let medie right here. Anything, Lord—but not this.”

It’s not that I minded working. From the age of twelveI had always worked and made my own way. My par-ents were both able and willing to provide for me, butmaking money just happened to be one of the things Ienjoyed doing most.

On my own initiative I used to go to the local whole-sale house and buy 100-pound bags of peanuts. I wouldtake these home, parch them in the oven, put them intosmall paper bags, and sell them to the men who workedin the lumber mill near our home.

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In the summertime I would build myself a wagonfrom scrap parts and cover it with a canvas top. I thenwould pull the wagon down to the icehouse for a blockof ice. Taking different flavors of heavy syrup, an icescraper, and paper cups, I was set up in the snowballbusiness.

I would pay a boy fifty cents a day to pull the wagonwhile I walked behind doing the scraping and selling.At five cents a snowball, I often cleared three or fourdollars per day. Back then, when a dollar was a dollar,that was good money for a boy—or for anyone.

At the age of sixteen I dropped out of high schooland entered Mobile Beauty and Barber College. I workedso hard at becoming a hairdresser that after only six oreight weeks they gave me the first chair. When we movedto Panama City, I was hired to operate the front chair inthe main shop downtown, where I stayed until my tu-berculosis became too bad. I loved to work, and I had apassion for making money.

But this preaching business was no way to make aliving. The offerings were miserably small. I preachedfor literally pennies a night. One entire week I collectedonly thirty cents, twenty-five pennies and a nickel. An-other week I got only twenty-six pennies and not a singlenickel. Even at that, some folks complained that I wasbeing overpaid. “The gospel should be free,” they said.Even in those depression days, I could make more inone day selling snowballs than in a whole month ofpreaching. And here I was having to slop hogs for myroom and board.

To add insult to injury, I didn’t even like being a preacher.From childhood I had learned to despise the ministry.

When I was a boy, evangelists didn’t know anythingabout hotels. If a visiting minister came to a church he

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always stayed with “the saints.” And at our church thatusually meant he stayed with the Sumralls. It alwaysseemed to be our good fortune to live near the church.

Revivals in those days were genuine “protractedmeetings,” continuing sometimes three or four months.Most of the evangelists who stayed with us impressedme as rough, crude, poorly educated men. Worse thanthat, when they stayed at our house I lost my bed. I hadto sleep on a pallet, just a couple of quilts spread on thewood floor. As a young boy I would often go to sleeplying on the hard church benches, while the serviceslasted until 10:30 or 11:00 P.M. Then I would be awak-ened and carried home only to be put on a hard pallet forthe rest of the night. That was okay for a night or two,but after a period of weeks I grew to resent it. Most ofall I resented the evangelist who slept in my bed.

Also, the evangelist robbed me of my place besidemy father at the dinner table. During revivals I wouldhave to eat at the “second table” after the grownups hadfinished their meal. And one thing about those old-timepreachers—they really ate. I sometimes wondered if therewould be enough left for me.

I retaliated by stealing from the evangelists’ pock-ets, tinkering with their automobiles to keep them fromstarting, and shooting out the lights in their revival tents.One day I became totally fed up with one evangelist whohad a particularly large family with him. I got hold ofhis boy, about my size, and poured sorghum molassesinto his hair. I then dusted flour onto the gooey messand rubbed it in, demanding, “Now tell your father Iwant him to please leave town.”

Instead of leaving town the evangelist just called forspecial fasting and prayer for Lester to try to get himsaved.

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Up until a few weeks before that morning when Ifound myself crying and praying prostrate in the corn-field, I hated preachers. Now I was one. And I wasn’t atall sure that I didn’t hate myself, too.

However, as I prayed I felt an assurance that I wasdoing the work that God had ordained me to do. I heardHis still, small voice within, “If you will be patient, Iwill do many wonderful things for you.” I got up fromthe cornfield with a renewed determination to preach,whatever the cost.

I really didn’t know anything about how to prepare asermon. The first several nights I just told about my vi-sion and healing. As the people began to tire of hearingthat same testimony, I started telling Bible stories I re-membered from Sunday school, the story of David, theprodigal son, etc. I would read the Bible all day and thenjust get up and talk from it at night. I was growing spiri-tually day by day.

It wasn’t long before I developed a method of illus-trating my sermons by having people from the congre-gation dress and act out the parts of the Bible charactersas I preached about them. That seemed to create interestand perk up the attendance.

Actually, we never thought about not having a crowd.The people were always there. In those days there waslittle in the way of competition such as television, placesof amusement, etc. A revival meeting often provided theonly entertainment that many poor country folk couldafford.

Bible prophecy was one of the most popular evange-listic themes in those depression days. Communism hadrecently been born in Russia and President Roosevelthad just inaugurated the N.R.A. (National RecoveryAdministration). People were hungry to hear about these

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and other current events in the light of Bible prophecy. Ibegan to study the newspapers along with my Bible anddeclared the end-time message.

That first schoolhouse revival lasted for six weeksand at the close we took eighty-seven adults down to thecreek and baptized them by immersion. I didn’t knowwhat to do with my converts so I just left them. Theykept holding services and a church was established fromthe effort.

From that revival I went twenty or thirty miles on upthe road to another—and then another. Invitations be-gan to come for me to minister in churches as well asschoolhouses. From one rural community to another Iworked my way up through Mississippi and into Ten-nessee and Arkansas.

The young man who started out with me married alovely young lady and settled down. I have not seen himsince. Within a year I was joined by my younger sister,Leona. She added much to the meetings by playing herguitar and singing.

God miraculously blessed our efforts and whereverwe went the whole countryside was stirred. From oneparticular revival, two missionaries went to Africa. Manyother young men and women were called into the gospelministry.

One thing that troubled me deeply during those firstmonths as an evangelist was that I had not yet receivedthe baptism in the Holy Ghost. I was well acquaintedwith the doctrine but not the blessing. One of the firstsounds I ever remembered hearing was that of my godlymother speaking in an unknown tongue as the Spirit gavethe utterance. Having been reared around Full Gospelpeople all my life I thought that receiving the Holy Ghostwould be no problem. But it didn’t come that easy for me.

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Sometimes I would go ahead and preach about theHoly Spirit, not from my own experience, but from theActs of the Apostles. I admonished others that theyshould seek for the blessing. Many of them did—andreceived. Of course this caused some controversy. Peoplewould say, “He has no right to preach about the HolyGhost. He doesn’t even have the Holy Ghost himself.”Others would point to me and mock, “Here’s a man whodoesn’t live what he preaches.” They were right. I wasopen about my lack and that brought much criticism.

Desperately I sought the infilling of the blessed HolySpirit during those months. Often after preaching I my-self would be among the seekers at the altar. It was thecraziest thing you would ever see. I doubt if any pastorwould have allowed that kind of circus in his church.

After others had received the Holy Ghost, then theywould come over to where I was seeking and try to “praythe preacher through.” They would lay their hands onme and instruct me to repeat “hallelujah” or “glory, glory,glory!”

In my heart I rebelled against this method. I didn’twant the Holy Ghost to come as a result of workingmyself into a frenzy. I felt that it should be supernatu-ral—from God.

The day I finally received the Holy Spirit I waspreaching on the front porch of a country schoolhouseoutside of Fayetteville, Arkansas. The sponsoring grouphad no pastor and I was staying with a German farmer.

I was particularly discouraged. After preaching thatevening, ten people had been saved and seven receivedthe Holy Spirit. I had been down at the altar seekingwith the rest of them, but I didn’t receive anything.

I went back to the room where I was staying and layon the bed disgusted. As I stared up at the bedroom

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ceiling, I mumbled aloud to myself. “Here I talk aboutthis and I don’t have it. What’s wrong with me?”

The Lord began to deal with me. “You have felt thatyou could just grab anything you wanted when and howyou wanted it,” I heard Him say. You see, I had fastedoften for the infilling of the Holy Spirit. I somehow hadthe notion that a person could get anything he desiredjust by fasting for it. I had tried to earn the Holy Ghost.

God continued to speak to my heart. “Since you didn’treceive the Holy Ghost your way, now I am going togive the Spirit to you as a free gift.”

I wasn’t even praying for the Holy Ghost at thatmoment. I was just lying there half mad and feeling sorryfor myself. All of a sudden the glory of God came intothat room as I had never felt it before. The Spirit seemedto flow from the corner of the room until it touched thefoot of my bed, my feet, and came up through me. As itdid, I began to speak in a heavenly language I neverlearned. My efforts to receive the Holy Ghost in my ownstrength had ended in frustration. Now with no effort ofmy own, God filled me by His grace. I went to sleeprejoicing in my newfound prayer language.

The next morning I announced to the folks where Iwas staying, “I received a blessing last night.”

The lady of the house answered, “Everybody knowsit!” Nothing more was said.

I remained faithful to my calling as a preacher—maybe more faithful than was necessary. I did not take avacation or even return home for a rest or a visit. Myfolks did come to visit me from time to time. I preachednonstop, closing one meeting on a Sunday night and start-ing somewhere else on Monday.

I had always been a strong competitor. In school Ihad boxed, wrestled, played football, basketball, baseball,

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every sport available. I played rough. I played to win.And I loved it. Even years later as a preacher I still en-joyed sports whenever the opportunity came to partici-pate. I threw myself into my preaching with the sameenthusiastic abandon.

My preaching style in those days as a teenage evan-gelist was enthusiastic, to say the least. When I preached,I would jump or run and yell loudly at the sinners torepent. My voice would grow hoarse and my body be-came drenched with sweat. The Deep South was a vio-lent place to live in the early 1930s. I had a violent lifebefore my conversion and now I preached according tothe man that I was and the disposition God had given me.

In spite of my hard work and faithfulness, I had abad attitude about the ministry. My motive was almostaltogether negative. I was preaching just to stay alive—to keep from dying of tuberculosis. I was unhappy withmy lot as a minister. As a result, sometimes I didn’t tryvery hard to be nice to people. Oftentimes after wailingaway at them from the pulpit I would say, “You haveheard my sermons. Now your getting saved is not partof my deal with God. He just told me to preach. Whetheror not you get saved is your business.”

One night I asked a young woman, “Do you want togo to heaven?” She shook her head no. Almost in angerat her refusal, I told her bluntly, “Then you go to hell.” Iturned around and walked to the front of the building. Ilooked back and saw that she had fainted and fallen tothe floor.

After some ladies brought her to, I went to her andsaid, “You seemed healthy enough when I was back herebefore. What happened to you?”

She answered, “I never had anybody tell me to go tohell before, let alone the preacher.”

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I said, “Lady, there are only two places to go and youtold me you didn’t want to go to one of them, so you’rebound to go to the other.” I did get a convert that nightin spite of my brashness.

For the first eighteen months of my ministry my atti-tude was terrible. I had been like a Gramophone, grind-ing out a message each night with no compassion, withno feeling; but I guess the Lord knows He can keepworking and polishing us—filling us with Himself—until He gets us fit for His service. I marvel now to lookback and realize how God used that early ministry inspite of my abruptness and negativism.

After about eighteen months of preaching just to keepfrom dying, God miraculously changed the entire courseof my ministry, and my life.

It happened in one dramatic evening. God gave me asecond vision—the only other vision I have had duringmy spiritual life.

It was in a little frame church building in the Ten-nessee countryside. I was sitting to the side of the pulpitwhere a young man stood waving his arms and leadingthe congregation in song.

Suddenly I was no longer aware of the church, thepeople, or the song they were singing. I saw before meall the people of the entire world. They were wearingtheir native clothing and they were every shade of blackand brown and red and white. I was impressed with howbeautiful they were as they walked down a very longand wide highway leading away from me. It was veryreal. I could not believe I was experiencing a vision un-til after it ended and I found myself back in the littlebuilding.

I had never seen a large missionary pageant before,and many of the native costumes were strange to me.

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Yet in the Spirit I was able to tell the countries of theworld they represented.

In the vision, God lifted me up until I was lookingdown upon that uncountable multitude of humankind.He took me far down the highway until I saw the end ofthe road. It ended abruptly at a precipice towering abovea bottomless inferno. When the tremendous unendingprocession of people came to the end of the highway Icould see them falling off into eternity. As they nearedthe pit and saw the fate that awaited them, I could seetheir desperate but vain struggle to push back againstthe unrelenting pressure of those to the rear. The greatsurging river of humanity swept them ever forward.

God opened my ears to hear the screams of damnedsouls sinking into hell. God brought me nearer. As menand women of all nations plunged into that awful chasm,I could see their faces distorted with terror. Their handsflailed wildly, clawing at the air.

As I beheld in stunned silence, God spoke to me outof the chaos. “You are responsible for these who arelost.”

“No, not me, Lord,” I defended myself. “I do notknow these people. I have never been to Japan, or China,or India; I am not to blame.”

God’s voice was tender yet firm as He spoke again.“When I say unto the wicked, Thou shalt surely die; andthou givest him not warning, nor speakest to warn thewicked from his wicked way, to save his life; the samewicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will Irequire at thine hand.”

That was the shortest sermon I had ever heard—andthe most frightening. It was preached to me by God Him-self. Not until later did I discover that the passage wasin the Bible (Ezekiel 3:18).

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“Oh, God,” I said. “Do you mean I can be respon-sible for Africans going to hell even though I have neverbeen to Africa? Am I responsible for South Americansbeing lost when I have never been there?”

God left no doubt in my mind. I was impressed thatevery Christian is responsible for taking the message ofGod’s grace and salvation to those who have never heard.

Suddenly the vision was over. I was still trembling.Opening my eyes, I saw that the meeting house was darkand I was there alone. I supposed the people had de-cided I was praying in a trance and just closed the meet-ing and left me. It didn’t matter. A heavy burden settleddown over my soul and my heart felt like it was break-ing in two. I began to weep, heaving and sobbing un-controllably from deep inside. I had cried before, but Ididn’t know a human could cry as I did that night. I pros-trated myself on that wooden floor and remained thereall night agonizing before the Lord.

“Oh, God,” I implored, “forgive me, forgive me fornot loving the least, the last, and the lost of this world.”

I made a covenant with God that I would run as noman had ever run; I would fight as no man had everfought, to find the lost and bring them the good news.From that night I knew that the world would be my parish.

When I walked out of that little building at eight o'clock the next morning I had to push my eyes open whereI had cried them shut. I was a new man. Something hadmatured in my soul that night. I felt that I had been sanc-tified, set apart by God for a particular purpose.

Friends told me that I spoke differently, my wordspossessed a new authority, and at the same time theycontained a tenderness that had not been there before.God had given me a compassion and an urgency for soulsthat would never fade as long as I preached.

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Just over a year from that eventful night, at the age oftwenty, I began active missionary work that would even-tually lead me into over one hundred nations of the worldand to every continent of the earth. The soles of my feetwould slap the streets of over one thousand of the world’sgreat cities, teaming with their frustrations, diseases andsins. And everywhere I went I would declare the blessedhope of eternal life through Jesus Christ.

It would not be all glory. A long, lonely, rugged road laybefore me. I could not even dream of the adventures offaith and miracles that God had in store for me. From thisdivine compassion there would be no turning back. For therest of my days I must run with the vision.

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3At the same time that God was giving me the vision

of a world going to hell, a man by the name of HowardCarter, living in London, England, was in prayer. Thedate was December 18, 1931. Howard Carter, in his earlyforties, was general superintendent of the Assemblies ofGod in Great Britain and Ireland, and the president ofHampstead Bible Institute. As he prayed that evening,God gave him a prophecy concerning a helper who wouldassist him in his work. The words of this message soimpressed him that he wrote them down:

“I have found one for thee, yea, I have called aworker to stand beside thee. He hath heard my call,he respondeth, he joineth thee in the work to whichI have called thee. I have called him, although thouhast not seen him. He is called and chosen and shalljoin thee. Behold he cometh, he cometh from afar;he cometh to help thee to carry thy burden and be astrength at thy side, and thou shalt find pleasure inhis service and shall delight in his fellowship. Heshall come at the time appointed and shall not tarry;at a time thou thinkest not shall he appear, evenwhen thou art engaged in my work.”

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The next morning at a staff meeting of the Bible In-stitute, Howard Carter told of the prophecy he had re-ceived, and then read it.

One of the professors responded, “You are going toget married. God is going to bring you a pretty womanfrom some far country.”

Howard Carter said, “Oh? Let me read it again.” Sohe read, “Behold he cometh, he cometh from afar, hecometh to help thee….” The prophecy didn’t say any-thing about a woman at all. God was going to send aman to travel with him.

1932 passed as did the next year. Each day HowardCarter expected the helper to arrive, but the promise re-mained unfulfilled. In 1934, he received an invitation tothe United States to speak at the tri-state camp meetingin Eureka Springs, Arkansas. This invitation he refusedbecause he felt it was a waste of time to travel so far.But before his letter of rejection was received (there wasno transatlantic airmail in those days), a cablegram wassent asking if he was planning to accept the invitation.The wording of that cablegram convinced Mr. Carterthat it was the will of the Lord for him to go. He cabledback, “Ignore letter, am accepting.”

Mr. Carter’s missionary secretary in London sug-gested that he should extend his trip to visit the mission-aries in the Far East before returning home. Feeling thatthe missionaries needed to be visited, he decided to seekfor divine guidance in the matter. He borrowed the keyto a church near the Bible school, locked himself in thebuilding, and spent several hours with God in prayerand fasting. God gave him the spiritual direction hesought in the form of another prophecy:

“Prepare thou for the journey and clothe thee

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for the path which thou shall take, for I am send-ing thee and I will go with thee. Thou hast waitedfor me, and thou hast done well, for thy waitinghas been thy wisdom, and thou hast shown knowl-edge of my way. I will go with thee to prepare thepath and will give thee grace to tread it. Thoushalt speak my words and shalt follow my lead-ing and do my will.

“Place after place thou shalt visit and shaltcomfort my people and gather mine elect together,for I am sending thee. Let not another say, “Hesendeth thee,” for I am sending thee, saith theLord, and I am providing thee with all thouneedest. To the nations, I am sending thee, to thecountries where my servants labor. Thou shaltcomfort my people and cheer those who have la-bored for me. In dark places shalt thou give themhelp, for I am with thee.”

Assured by this message, Howard Carter sailed forNew York in early June. First he preached at a campmeeting at Santa Rosa, California, and then worked hisway back to Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

In the meantime I was continuing my work as a youthevangelist, with the call of world evangelism burninghot within me. I was restlessly waiting for God to openthe door for me to fulfill the vision. I wanted to get tothe nations so badly I didn’t know what to do. I wouldpreach to Americans and see Chinese. At other times asI preached, everyone in the place would appear black. Iwas preaching to Africans. I would stand before thepeople with tears running down my cheeks because Iwas crying for the heathen. But no missions board waswilling to send an unproven teenage evangelist.

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It was while I was preaching a revival in Oklahomathat I learned of Howard Carter’s coming to preach thetri-state camp meeting. As I was praying one night, Godimpressed me to close out the revival and go to EurekaSprings. I didn’t know anything about Howard Carter,or anything about the camp meeting for that matter, yetI was sure of God’s directive. When I went to churchthat night I told the pastor that I was closing the meeting.

He became angry. “That’s just the trouble with younew little preachers. You don’t have any respect for yourelders. You don’t do what you’re told. You promised tobe here and you should be here.”

I explained to him that I really wanted to finish therevival but I was compelled to go. He never did under-stand. The next morning Leona and I drove out of Okla-homa and found our way to the Eureka Springs camp-ground.

Upon arriving we went into the large hall just in timeto hear Howard Carter lecturing on the “Gifts of theSpirit.” It was while in a prison for being a conscien-tious objector during World War I that God had revealedto him the phenomenal truth of the gifts of the HolySpirit. Today the entire charismatic world follows histeachings on the gifts. Every book that has been writtenon the subject can be traced back to Howard Carter’sinfluence. I had never heard anyone teach on the giftsbefore that morning and I was amazed at what I heard.

Outside on the sidewalk after the service I shookhands with Howard Carter and introduced myself. Thenafter what seemed to be a long moment of silence, I be-gan to speak very strange things that I myself didn’tunderstand. As I was speaking what seemed to me to befoolishness, I suddenly stopped and apologized. “I’msorry, sir. I don’t usually talk like this to people.”

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“I know it,” he smiled at me. “Come with me to myroom and I will tell you why you have spoken as you have.”

Many years later in an article which appeared inWorld Harvest Magazine, Howard Carter told of the firstencounter with me on the sidewalk:

“His words excited me. He was repeating themessage God had given me in London that I hadread the night before while in prayer…. When Iheard the very words of the Lord’s message tome flowing from his lips, I was immediately con-vinced that a miracle was taking place. I grewexcited, but let me hasten to explain that my ex-citement was of a very conservative nature, for Idid not betray the slightest evidence of emotion.But the matter certainly amazed me and I saidwithin myself that this young man was, withoutdoubt, the one of whom the Lord had spoken in1931.”

When Mr. Carter led me to his room, he pulled out abook of prophecies from his suitcase, opened it andshared with me that the words I had spoken were thevery words God had given to him in London manymonths earlier. Then he looked straight at me and said,“You’re the one.”

He then began to explain to me his procedure in thework of God regarding finance. Since entering the min-istry, Howard Carter said that he had never on any occa-sion asked for any fee for preaching. He never mentionedhis personal needs to anyone but only to the Lord. Hemade it clear that if I were to travel with him it would beby faith. Each of us would pay his own way as we trav-eled around the world. We would depend upon God to

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meet our needs through His people, but we would neverask for help or give hints of our need. I was happy tofollow his arrangements respecting finance, for God hadalready been teaching me to live that way. We knew itwas necessary for two to agree before they walked together.

Immediately I left for Mobile, Alabama, where myparents were living at the time, to leave my sister, Leona,and make arrangements for the trip. After selling my carand securing a passport, I caught a train to California.My family was upset to say the least. My father thoughtI was crazy to go out in the ministry as I had done, andnow he knew I was crazy to start off around the worldwith the gospel.

When I arrived in Los Angeles, Howard Carter hadalready departed America. I was to hear of his where-abouts at the Bethel Temple church, where he had held ameeting. Dr. Turnbull, the Bethel Temple pastor, toldme that he thought Mr. Carter had gone to Japan. An-other pastor said that he had gone to China, and anotherfelt sure that it was India. I had no idea where HowardCarter was but I felt certain that God wanted me to gowith him, so I traveled up to San Francisco and bought aticket on a steamer to China (Later I would learn thatMr. Carter had written me of his last minute change ofplans to go first to Australia, but I had not received theletter).

That night when I went to my room I was very un-settled about going to China. I prayed, “I don’t knowwhere he is, Lord. What shall I do?” While praying I felta strong impression from the Lord to buy a ticket to thebottom of the world and work my way up. But some ofmy luggage was already on the boat bound for HongKong. I had already been asked to speak at the religiousservices on Sunday while at sea and in only two more

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days we would be leaving port.What could I do? I had spent almost all the money

from the sale of my car to buy the ticket to China. Thesteamship company’s policy was to give no refunds. Sit-ting in the city square of San Francisco, I prayed forGod to help me. Then I went to the office where I hadpurchased my ticket and explained my situation. The manat the counter informed me that he could do nothing.“Matters of this kind are handled through our Chicagooffice,” he explained.

“But, sir,” I answered, “I need the money today.” He scowled, “Yes, and I could have sold your cabin

a dozen times if I had known this.”At my insistent pleading, the clerk finally agreed to

speak to the manager on my behalf. In a few momentshe returned with my money. I shouted, “Hallelujah!” andpromptly purchased a ticket to the “bottom of the world”on another steamship line.

Two days later I was walking up the gangplank of asteamer bound for Australia. Dr. Craig, founder of GladTidings Temple and Bible Institute of San Francisco,and his students, came to see me off. As the great shipRMS Makura slowly pushed away from the dock, break-ing the brightly colored streamers, I felt that I too wasbreaking away from the only world I knew. The nightwas majestic and the starry city of God was above us aswe passed the famous Alcatraz Prison and passed underthe Golden Gate. No mission society or church was send-ing me. I had only the call of God on my soul, the visionin my heart, and twelve dollars in my pocket. There wasnothing to fear.

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4Twenty-one days after sailing from San Francisco

harbor, with stops in Tahiti and Rarotonga, our shippulled into the port at Wellington, New Zealand, for athirty-six-hour stopover. I did not know that HowardCarter was at that moment in the mountainous interiorof New Zealand teaching at a ministers’ retreat.

While praying a day earlier. Howard Carter had askedGod, “Where is the young man that was supposed tomeet me in California and never came? I have lost him.”

The Lord spoke to him that I was on a boat then pull-ing into the harbor at Wellington. He wrote a note to mesaying, “Go on to Australia and minister until I arrive.We will travel from Sydney together.”

Mr. Carter asked one of the ministers, “Would yougo home for me? I will have a friend there tomorrow fromAmerica and I would like you to give this note to him.”

That next morning at eight o’clock, I left the boatand began looking for a Full Gospel church. By eleveno’clock I had found Baptist, Methodist, Church of En-gland, Salvation Army, Presbyterian, but could not findanybody who knew anything about a Full Gospel church.Finally I stopped a stranger on the street and asked him,

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“Is there any church in this town where the people say‘Hallelujah’ or ‘Praise the Lord’ in church?”

He replied, “Yes, I think so,” and pointed across arailroad track and up a little hill in the distance. I fol-lowed his directions and found a small Assembly of Godchurch and parsonage. My knock at the door was an-swered by a towering man who looked down on my slightframe (I was still not much more than a hundred pounds).

I started to introduce myself, “You don’t know whoI am, but….”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “You’re Lester Sumrall.”I nearly fainted. “I’ve never written to anybody in

this country. How could you know who I am?”“Howard Carter told me you were coming.”A moment earlier I had nearly fainted. Now I nearly

ran. This Howard Carter was so spiritual he was spooky.I wasn’t sure I wanted to be around a man like that at all.I thanked the pastor, and after a time of fellowship withhim I boarded the ship. The next day I sailed on to Aus-tralia alone.

Two days later, at four-thirty in the morning, I awoketo peer out the porthole at the glimmering lights of theGod-designed harbor of Sydney. It was dotted with is-lets, each with its own flashing to warn passing mari-ners.

As the ship pulled into the harbor we were boardedby the pilot, state doctor, and immigration officers whomet us in a motor launch. All passengers were givendeclaration forms to fill out, with questions regardingnationality, occupation, etc. One of the questions was,“How much money have you?” Underneath this ques-tion it read, “If you are a foreigner staying in Australiathree months, you must have two hundred pounds.”

Two hundred pounds! The twelve dollars in my

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pocket were worth less than three British pounds. I leftthe space blank and went before the immigration officer.

Just ahead of me in line was a young American and Icould overhear the conversation between them.

“Seventy-five dollars!” The officer bellowed indig-nantly.

“Yes, sir, that is all.”“We don’t want beggars in Australia; we want tour-

ists with money.”“I’m sorry, sir. That is all I have.”“Then give me your passport and ticket,” the officer

demanded. “We are going to put you on the next boatback to America.”

Now it was my turn to meet the officer. Reticently Ihanded him my declaration and he glanced over it.

“An American, eh?”“Yes, free born.”“A minister, huh?”“Yes, of the Christian religion.”“Say, there is one question you have not answered,”

and taking his fountain pen he said, “I will fill it in foryou. How much money have you?”

“Well, I don’t have very much,” I stuttered.The officer looked up and barked impatiently, “I

didn’t ask you that question. How much money do youhave?”

“Well,” I hesitated, “I really do not have very much.”Then mustering the best smile I could under the cir-cumstances, I added softly, “My present reserve is a bitshort, sir.”

“Where are you going from here?”An anointing came upon me as I answered, “I am

going around the world to preach the gospel to thosewho have never accepted Christ as their Savior. I am

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going to Java, Singapore, China, Manchuria, Korea, Ja-pan, and I know the Lord will provide.”

With that the officer went to fetch the chief inspec-tor. I stood and prayed silently.

When the inspector arrived he asked the same ques-tions and once again I gave the same answers. While Iheld my breath he looked at me for a moment in silenceand said simply, “We are going to let you land.”

The following day at noon I met Mr. Greenwood,pastor of Richmond Temple in Melbourne, who invitedme to preach a few nights at his church. The welcomefrom the Melbourne Christians was hearty, but they gaveme no pay for my ministry. The last night of the meet-ing, Pastor Greenwood said, “It must be wonderful tobe rich like you Americans.”

“Yes,” I responded, “it must be wonderful.” As Mr.Carter and I had agreed, I gave no hint of my need.

Going back to my room I cried much of the night.The next day I was scheduled to go to Bendigo, a cityabout one hundred miles away, and I had no money for aticket. I prayed definitely for God to give me five pounds.Afterwards, the first man I met said that he and his wifefelt impressed while in prayer to give me a gift. He stucka sealed white envelope into my hand. Back in my roomI hurried to open it and with tears of thanksgiving toGod I counted out five crisp one pound notes.

After preaching in a few of the Full Gospel churchesin Australia, some of the pastors challenged me. “Whenyou evangelists come from America, all you want is tominister in our larger churches. Why don’t you go andraise us up a church?”

They had challenged the right man. That was the thingI knew how to do best.

I rented a tent, called it the “Canvas Tabernacle,”

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and set it up in Brisbane, capital city of Queensland.From the first night souls found God at the old-time al-tar, in the old-time way. What had worked in Arkansasand Mississippi and Tennessee I found worked just aswell “down under.”

One problem that plagued our meeting in Brisbane,which had not been a problem in the United States, wasthe bitter opposition from the Communists. They cameand stood outside the tent almost every night. If Ipreached on world conditions, and especially Russia,they would nearly go wild with rage. One night whilethey were heckling outside the tent I exhorted my con-gregation, “If you talk about the devil, his children getangry.” That night they stopped their heckling and wenthome.

Several miraculous healings also accompanied thatcrusade in Brisbane. One young lady came for prayerfor a cancerous sore that had completely eaten throughher nostril to the outside of her nose. When she removedthe cotton which covered her sore it was a terrifyingsight. She said that a doctor was going to operate on it.

I said, “Let the Great Physician do the operating. Hedoes not use knives.” We prayed for her and in a fewnights she was back testifying of her miraculous healing.

The tent was near a tavern and one night I had tophysically throw out two drunks who were disturbingthe service. They were sitting in the back of the tentmaking fun of me, God, America, and everything else. Itook them by the nape of the neck and the seat of thepants and shoved them out into the night, ordering themnot to come back until they were sober.

One night near the close of the six-week campaign,the service was interrupted by a young man who rushedonto the platform. His face was white and he appeared

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to be in great anguish. At first I thought he wanted tofight, but when I saw the tears start to flow I knew hewas under deep conviction of sin. He knelt and prayeduntil God’s peace erased the anguish of his soul. I thenasked him to share what God had done in his heart. “Lastnight,” he testified, “I was so angry I was going to burndown this tent, but a power I have never felt kept mefrom doing it. Praise God, now I am saved!”

At the end of six weeks, when we took down thetent, there was a congregation of about three hundredconverts. The new church had to send to England to finda pastor and a Full Gospel lighthouse was established inBrisbane. That work has gone on to become a greatchurch.

I spent Christmas that year with Pastor Duncan ofJubilee Temple in Sydney. During the next few days weheld special meetings with the gracious outpourings ofGod’s blessing, climaxed by a watch night service onNew Year’s Eve.

On the first day of 1935, at 10:30 A.M., I anxiouslywatched the beautiful white S.S. Maraposa as she grace-fully steamed into the harbor at Sydney and docked ather wharf.

With homesick eyes I scanned the ship’s crowdeddeck for Howard Carter, but in vain. Then in the cus-toms shed, I finally came face to face with Brother Carter.I was so happy to see him that I yelled and gave him ahearty hug. It had been five months since the Lord hadso marvelously brought us together. I had not seen himsince. In the next few years Howard Carter would be-come closer to me than my own father. He would havethe most profound effect upon my life of any personother than my mother.

Sometimes together, sometimes separately, we

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continued to minister throughout Australia wherever Godopened the doors. Perhaps the crowning achievement ofour ministry on the Australian continent was the estab-lishment of a Bible school in Queensland for the prepa-ration of young Australians for the ministry. An efficientstaff of teachers were secured and the principal, Mr.Wiggins, came from England to take charge of theschool.

On March 9th, at 9:30 P.M. the gangplank was liftedand a harbor tugboat gently pulled the S.S. Morella awayfrom her mooring. As Howard Carter and I waved fare-well from the deck, our Australian brothers and sisterssang “God Be With You ‘Til We Meet Again.” The shipmoved slowly down the Brisbane River and into theCoral Sea. Our destination was Java, fifteen days away.

When the Morella threw her steel hawsers to the dockof the East Indian port of Surabaja, for the first time wewere facing the Oriental in his homeland. For the nexttwo months we were to travel the length and breadth ofthis England-sized island that claims to be the mostdensely populated section of the planet.

We were met by Mr. and Mrs. Van Abkonde, whowere to be our hosts on this torrid, humid island of per-petual summer.

In the evening our friends called to take us to ourfirst meeting in Java. Arriving at the church we found alarge concrete auditorium which seated about twelvehundred people. There must have been at least two thou-sand people present with hundreds standing in the aislesand around the wall. As we entered, the Javanese choirwas singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” “Hallelujah” wasthe one word of their language we understood. BrotherCarter spoke first through an interpreter and then I wasasked to give an evangelistic message. When I faced that

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cosmopolitan congregation, I saw the faces of Malay-sians, Javanese, Dutch, Chinese, and English. To myamazement many of these faces looked familiar, as if Ihad seen them before. But I had just arrived, travelingmany weeks by ship to get to this backside of the world.I thought, “They’ve never been away from home andyou’ve never been here before.” And suddenly I knew—it was the vision! I had seen them in the vision!

And did I ever get busy preaching. And did I everpreach my heart out. These were the people to whom Ihad been sent! When the appeal was given, a great num-ber came forward to be saved. As all the different racesknelt at one altar, praying to one God, I saw that theground was level at Calvary.

From Surabaja we preached in the cities of Blabok,Semarang, Solo, Madiun, Kediri, Probolinggo, Malang,Temanggoeng, Djokjakarta, and several others. Every-where we went we were warmly received. In many cit-ies the crowds so overflowed the mission halls that themeetings were moved to a Masonic temple or theaterbuilding. Our main difficulty was the curse of Babel,the language barrier. Our interpreters, being Dutch, didnot always understand our English idioms. At times theywould say, “Vot brudder, vot you say, brudder?” Despiteour difficulties, God’s word did not return to Him void.The gospel net dragged in the fish from the vast sea ofsouls.

Java was very much a land of contrasts. We wereinvited to visit the fabulous one-mile square palace ofthe Javanese Sultan, Amanggku Buwano, whose namemeans, “He who has the world’s axis on his knees.” Fromthis ornate “city within the city” of Djokjakarta, we drovetwo hundred miles till there was no more road to travel.Then we walked a winding trail all day long into the

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mountainous region to the primitive village of GambangWalla, many miles from the nearest sign of civilization.Here in a bamboo tabernacle with an earthen floor, wepreached to the smiling brown-faced villagers. Our mes-sages were translated from English to Dutch to Javanese.

Here a blind woman, the oldest person in the village,asked to pray for us. What a prayer that poor peasantwoman uttered! With her head nearly touching theground, she seemed to rock the heavens. Our interpretercould not explain it all for weeping, but said that shewas praying for God to richly bless our visit to her vil-lage. That prayer was worth the day-long journey by footover the mountains.

After crisscrossing the Island of Java for 3,000 miles,ministering daily, we continued our journey to the Asiannation of Singapore. We stayed in this island city onlytwo nights, but we saw many souls saved at special meet-ings in the mission hall.

Boarding the S.S. Terukuna Maru we sailed nextthrough the South China Sea to the crown colony of HongKong. To our surprise we were met at the dock in HongKong by two of Brother Carter’s former Bible schoolstudents who were now missionaries to Yunnan Province.

Our ten days in Hong Kong were feverishly busywith three meetings daily. In the first service at 9:00 A.M.,Brother Carter led a Bible study for the benefit of theEnglish-speaking missionaries. A general meeting wasconducted at 11:00 A.M., and an evangelistic service inthe evening. Every service was crowned with souls be-ing saved and the sick being healed. On the final evening,a large number of people were baptized in water by im-mersion in an impressive service.

From Hong Kong we desired to travel some threethousand miles to the borders of Burma and Tibet, but

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our funds were not nearly enough for the fare. On thenight before we were to buy our tickets, the native churchgave us an unexpected love offering that came to$260.00. Also, a number of Chinese Christians broughtcanned foods for us to take inland. These gifts savedour lives.

After a stormy trip across the Gulf of Tonkin in asmall combination steamer, we landed in the muddy bayof Haiphong, French Indo-China. The next morning weboarded a little mountain train for a three day journeyinto Yunnan Province, the most backward section ofChina.

As the railroad is dangerous, and the mountains veryhigh, the train does not travel at night. At dusk, passen-gers, train, and all just stop over until the next morning.After crossing the border into mainland China at Laokay,the route became one of the most remarkable feats ofengineering in the world. For the first time in my life Ibecame travel sick as the little French train swung usthrough about three hundred tunnels piercing the tower-ing peaks of China’s mountains. The curves were sosharp that you could look out of the window and see therear coaches entering a tunnel you had just come out of.On emerging from each tunnel the carriage was full ofsmoke and cinders as there were no screens on the win-dows and it was too hot to have them closed.

At five o’clock on the afternoon of the third day, ourtrain finally pulled into the station at Kunming, the capitalcity of the great Province of Yunnan, southwest China.

From the station we rode in a rickshaw through thehuge gates of the walled city, with guards standing over-head, guns in hand. We gazed in wonder at the quainthieroglyphics and carvings in the magnificent architec-ture of this old city.

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Our initiation into the cruelties taking place in Chinacame within our first ten minutes in the capital. Wepassed a group of men who were stoning another manto death. He screamed and groaned as large stones torehis body. The crowd looked on and laughed. Someonesaid that he was a thief.

For two weeks we stayed in the city. In the morningswe had conferences with the missionaries who had gath-ered from across the province for a time of fellowshipand spiritual refreshing. In the evenings the missionarywould blow his trumpet in front of the large missionhall, and in five or ten minutes it would be filled withChinese. A wooden partition was built down the centerof the church to separate the men from the women whileworshiping.

After a hymn and prayer, the speaker began. Thepeople would listen intently for some five minutes, thenin a grand stampede, two-thirds of them would get upand walk out, leaving you stammering in the pulpit. Mr.Carter and I developed some drastic gymnastics to keepthe people entertained while speaking, but even thisfailed sometimes.

From Kunming we felt it God’s will to visit the farinland mission stations. The British and American con-suls both advised against this journey as the route wasinfested with robber bands and Communists. Thesewould be glad to capture us for ransom, or they mightchoose to sever our heads from our shoulders as theyhad done to missionaries John and Betty Stam a fewweeks earlier. At that very moment a Mr. Bosshardt ofthe China Inland Mission was being held for ransomsomewhere in this section.

Also, the missionaries said it was the “wet season”and no one travels for a long distance unless it was very

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necessary, since the rains wash away horse roads andeven villages in a very short time.

Still, we felt it to be the Lord’s will for us to go.When we walked through the west gate of Kunming,followed by a mule caravan of fifteen animals, we bidadieu to the last ramparts of civilization for nine longweeks. The British consulate sent a guard of soldierswith us for protection. Our destination—the borders ofTibet and Burma.

Outside the city we got astride our mules (mine wasnamed Henry) and followed a narrow, slippery, rockypath. We journeyed through deep rock ravines, over nar-row ledges at dazzling heights, into the “Switzerland ofChina.”

In almost every muddy little village along the waywe would have precious fellowship with missionariesfrom different countries—Germany, Holland,Scandinavia, Australia, and others. The barriers of de-nominationalism and nationalism were torn down com-pletely in these remote outposts. Everybody offered ushospitality in their compounds and ministry in theirchurches.

When friends asked us what it was like preaching tothe natives inland, I told them I thought our sermonshad three effects on the congregation. They were mov-ing, soothing, and satisfying. Moving, because as webegan to speak the people moved out the door. Sooth-ing, because those who stayed usually went to sleep.Satisfying, because we never saw the same congrega-tion twice.

One morning our caravan walked slowly out of avillage where we had spent the night with five or sixother caravans. I was sitting on Henry reading theReader’s Digest as he plodded down the trail. It must

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have been an hour later that I looked up to realize I waslost. I could not see a white person anywhere on thetrail. I looked at the Chinese, but did not recognize anyof them. They laughed at me when they saw my bewil-derment. We rode on for another hour hoping vainly tosee a familiar face. I came to the conclusion that I mustbe on the wrong road. Here I was, fifteen hundred milesfrom Hong Kong, and lost. I could not speak a word ofChinese, and not a penny was in my pocket.

Now Henry sensed we were lost. He threw his headback and began to bellow. It was awful! Henry’s regulargait was three miles per hour, but now he broke looseand ran. I was bouncing on his back, holding on for dearlife, and yelling, “Whoa, Henry, whoa!” But he was aChinese mule and couldn’t understand my command.Soon we were not with any caravan.

Rounding a bend in the mountain path I prayed,“Lord, please show me the way to go.” There was a fork inthe trail and I breathed a prayer as I took the left-hand turn.

Fifteen minutes later I met a man who began to jab-ber something to us in Chinese. I signaled that I did notunderstand. He then grabbed Henry by the head, turnedhim around, and gave him a good kick in the behind. Iheld on as Henry took off again in a gallop. An hourlater, on the other side of the mountain, we found ourcaravan that had stopped for lunch. They wonderedwhere I had been—and so did I.

My diary for July 31st records, “Tonight we are sleep-ing in a barn nearly full of opium poppies. They are theseed for next year’s sowing.” We saw many people—from a five year-old boy to an old man—smoking thisdreadful poppy juice that benumbs the faculties and sapsall the vitality from the system.

Twenty-nine days after leaving Kunming, our caravan

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finally arrived at Chu-tien. This area was part of Tibetuntil the Chinese pushed them further into the moun-tains. When I met these square-jawed Tibetans, I hadthe uncanny feeling that these were people I had seenbefore. And then I realized again that I recognized themfrom my vision of a world going to hell. With greatcompassion I shared with them the good news of JesusChrist.

From Chu-tien we turned southwest, climbing thelofty, rugged, wild mountains to 13,500 feet, and aftertwo days traveling we arrived in Wei-hsi. Here we spoketo the people of the Lisu tribe near Burma. They were arough, primitive people with coarse features and home-spun clothing. An astonishing work had been done withthem. Hundreds had been converted to Christianity.When the Lisu come to church, they start greeting you agreat distance away, and as they came nearer, you couldhear them “Wha whaa” in their own tongue, meaning“Peace to you.” This greeting echoed from the hills overand over again. I found it exciting!

Traveling four days south from Wei-hsi over the end-less mountains, we came to Lan-p’ing. Here we stoodon a high peak and viewed beautiful tropical Burma. Asthe rain had fallen and the roads were gone, we had tohave a special guide direct us. Dangerous streams hadto be forded and twice we had to repair the road beforethe mules could pass safely. Where the narrow road hadcaved into a deep ravine we had to cut the mountainaway, making a path for the animals.

Just one of many experiences will give more of anidea of our living conditions. One day at noon we cameto a small village and stopped at the “cafe” for lunch. Aswe walked into the room, the thick smoke choked usand burned our eyes. The table had a cloth on it made of

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layers of spilled food, soot, grease, etc. We looked toone side and saw the cook, naked all but for a loincloth,standing by his brick furnace that had no chimney. Hehad a large iron pot on the furnace where everythingwas cooked. On one side of us was a dog and on theother a pig. The floor was earthen.

We noticed that the cook had a rag tied around hishead. This was used for cleaning out the cooking pot.The dog got in his way so he hit him with the rag andwiped the perspiration off his body. As our dinner wascooking, he walked over to the door for some fresh airand used this same cloth for a handkerchief. When thefood was ready to eat, he reached for some bowls, wipedthem out with the same rag and put our food in them.Yes, we ate it. We were really hungry!

There were times when our lives held no premium.We were having dinner one day at a place where twomen had just been murdered. This frightened our sol-diers so that we had to dismiss them and finish our tripwithout any natural protection. We passed places whereonce thriving cities had been burned to the ground bythe Communists, with the loss of many lives. A numberof days we were warned not to travel, as the road wasinfested with robbers, but we traveled every day, exceptone, and then it was the rain that stopped us.

At one time we passed a spot where the Chinese saidthe Reds had killed twenty-five men only hours before,and we were traveling in that direction. God protectedus and we did not see them.

Another morning, high on a mountain summit, weturned a sharp curve around a huge boulder and therewe saw three filthy, ragged men with cruel, scowlingfaces, sitting, polishing their long, shining rifles.

Without uttering a word the three men joined our

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caravan, walking behind us. The Chinese horsemen, whousually joked all the time, were silent and pale as death.We walked five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen, with thoseguns just behind us. One of the men finally spoke, “Wewant money.”

Our interpreter gave him what he asked for, and thenthe bandit put his hands to his mouth and screamed. Thewhole mountain resounded with his voice. On the nextridge came an answer, then the ragged trio walked away.God brought us through a desperate, ungoverned, ban-dit-ridden land, in peace.

Three months to the day after sailing for Hong Kong,we steamed back into the beautiful harbor again, view-ing Victoria Peak, the green Gibraltar of British domain.Our next destination was Canton, the sprawling metropo-lis of South China, a city with a recorded history of 4,000years.

From Canton, we traveled inland again to Fatshanfor a week-long meeting. Later we ministered in Shang-hai and then on north to Tientsin.

In every place God blessed our efforts with the heal-ing of many souls and bodies. Mr. Baltau, the pastor inTientsin, said there were 105 who definitely decided forChrist in our week’s visit there. Many others who hadbeen seeking the infilling of the Holy Ghost found theirfulfillment.

From Peking, the national capital, we traveled northby train to Kalgan on the Mongolian border for ten daysof special meetings. This was an unusual city to labor inas the powers of darkness were desperately fighting tohold their victims. But the kingdom of darkness was nomatch for God’s power and many souls were saved anddelivered from Satan’s power.

We were privileged to stand on the Great Wall of China

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and look right into the dark mystical land of Mongolia.We beheld the very places where battles raged betweenthe primitive Mongols and the crafty Chinese 500 yearsbefore the herald angels announced the glad tidings ofEmmanuel.

For our final mission in China we returned to Pe-king, the great imperial city of North China. Here weheld three services daily, dividing our time betweenAmerican, British, and Swedish missions.

During these many months in China it was apparentthat permanent trouble was brewing in the East. The farinland missionaries were having to evacuate their mis-sion stations as the Communists were taking over theterritory. The Japanese army at the same time had al-ready captured North China, and we watched as the Japa-nese soldiers looted the banks of China, taking the sil-ver and gold from the vaults. We rode in trains loadedwith this gold and silver headed for Japan. As we turnedour attention toward Japan, we did not know that wewere witnessing the beginning of a second world war.Nor did we realize that soon all doors for evangelism inChina would be closed.

In our visit to the Land of the Rising Sun we beganmeetings in Tokyo and worked our way south. Our firstmeetings were in the Takinogawa Church Bible School.Mr. Carter lectured to the Bible school students duringthe day and I preached in the evening services. Mostlymissionaries and Japanese Christians attended the meet-ings, but the few unconverted who did attend were con-victed of their sins and accepted Christ. Several of thosewho were already converted were filled with the Holy Spirit.

My personal opinion of Japan, after visiting her larg-est cities, and also small towns, was that the so-calledChristian nations had given Japan a western civilization,

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had brought her from medieval obscurity into the globallimelight, but had miserably failed in giving her Chris-tianity. I found Japan, with all her enlightenment andprogress, to be one of the most difficult fields for suc-cessful soul-winning.

Our acceptance as foreigners was no doubt greatlyaffected by the war talk in all the newspapers. Japanwas siding with Hitler and getting ready to make hergigantic push into Asia. Americans were not very popu-lar in Japan, but the Christians were openhearted andkind to us.

Eight weeks and two days passed swiftly as we min-istered in the churches of this island empire of the East.Although the results were not spectacular, we were en-couraged to see scores of Japanese born into the king-dom of God.

Across the deep blue waters of the Inland Sea wenext made our way to Korea, Land of the Morning Calm.In the capital city of Seoul, we were met at the stationby two of Mr. Carter’s former Bible school students fromEngland. It was a great pleasure to speak three timesdaily to the Korean audience, as they sat still and lis-tened intently.

One night in a meeting I said, “Now I will tell you astory,” and my Korean interpreter said, “Now I will tellyou a lie.” A missionary very kindly helped me throughthis awkward situation. During our brief stay in Japa-nese-occupied Korea, several healings took place. A manlame for four years was healed and another man, men-tally deranged for two years, was restored. These andother healings strengthened the faith of the saints andmade sinners to see the power of Jesus Christ.

Manchuria, Japan’s puppet state, was next on our itin-erary. This is a large territory lying north of China, south of

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Siberia, with Korea on the east and Mongolia on the west.In the city of Mukden we learned that many local

Christians had been imprisoned as anti-Japanese insti-gators. This made some people afraid to go to church.However, we had good attendance and God gave us agreat time of revival and blessing. Many were saved andhealed.

North of Mukden was Harbin, Manchuria’s greatcosmopolitan city. It was bitter cold when we arrivedthere and the river was frozen to a depth that large truckswere able to pass over the ice. We were shocked to seebodies of people lying along the street, frozen to death.Beggars had stolen their clothing while others had kickedthem to one side to let the traffic pass. We asked whythey were not taken up and were told, “Oh, they will bepicked up next spring, put on carts, and taken outsidethe city and burned.”

Beggar women, sometimes with a child in their arms,could be seen on the streets, two-thirds naked and shak-ing with cold and dying from hunger, screaming to thepassers-by for a few pennies with which to buy opium.How my heart broke for these souls for whom Christ died.

While in Harbin we ministered at the Russian East-ern European Mission Station to a congregation of WhiteRussians who had escaped the Communists. To look atthis congregation was to behold expressions of grief andhardness of countenance that results from much troubleand privation. When preaching to them, however, wefound tender hearts. About ten new converts wept theirway to Calvary during our three services there.

This ended more than a year of ministry in the Ori-ent. We left a people whose way of life was totally dif-ferent from ours, where dessert comes first at the meal,where the masculine dress is of silk and women wear

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trousers, where the man shakes his own hand in intro-duction and his surname comes first. But my spirit knewthat I would return again and again to these hungry livesseeking the Bread of Life.

Our next destination was Poland, to be reached bytrain across Siberia and Russia. For nine days we wereon the train in the wilds of Siberia, where temperaturesdipped to fifty below zero. From the train window wecould occasionally see the weary, poorly dressed exiledworkmen who easily could have been Christian broth-ers exiled for Christ’s sake. A few hours stop in Mos-cow gave us the chance to see this mecca of Socialism,the Jerusalem of Communism. Until we reached thePolish border town of Stolbce, we were constantly un-der surveillance by the secret police.

What a pleasure it was to minister to the eager, hun-gering souls we found in Poland. From one city or vil-lage to another we were welcomed by overflowingcrowds in the mission halls and churches. Many hadwalked for days to hear the Word of God preached. Somehad never seen a foreign minister. Whole villages woulddeclare a holiday and come out to the services. This wasparticularly gratifying in a country that is over 85 per-cent Catholic.

After eight or ten hymns and a long prayer, usuallythree or four sermons were the order of the day. It wasmarvelous to see how these people worshiped God insuch freedom of the Spirit. The Holy Ghost descendedand Pentecost was repeated time and again.

When I asked one pastor where all the visiting peoplefound lodging he said that about one hundred slept onthe floor of the mission hall, with only a bit of strawunder them. They had walked as far as sixty-five milesin snow, some of them wearing shoes made from strips

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of bark from willow trees, and stockings made from ragswrapped around their legs. As long as their souls caughta spark from off the heavenly altar, they did not worryabout cold weather, black bread, or a bed.

Our five-and-one half weeks of Polish ministry wasperhaps the hardest and most tiring itinerary of our tour,but it was also one of continual blessing. Over a hun-dred miles by springless wagon, sitting on a little bag ofhay, food beyond digestion, or infestations of lice, meantnothing compared to what we witnessed as God pouredmany blessings out onto His children.

Crossing the Polish border into the German Reich,we were now in the heart of the European continent.One ride through Berlin and the tremendous intensity oflife and speed of a western nation could be felt and seen.Two-thirds of the men and boys we saw meeting on thestreet gave each other the Nazi salute of raised open handwith curved thumb. The greeting was “Heil Hitler!” Thesign of the swastika was everywhere.

Semitic hatred was rampant. Signs could be seen inmany public places, “No Jews Allowed”; “Through thesegates does not lead to Palestine”; “No dogs allowed”; etc.

We were not at liberty to preach in different churchesin Germany or Berlin. A special permit for each churchhad to be granted by the chief of police. The Gestapooften sat in the meetings and took notes on the sermon.It was noticeable to us that when a strange person en-tered the hall, the German Christians watched him ner-vously and a depressing feeling filled the church.

Our sermons were restricted. The interpreter had fore-warned us not to speak in strained tones, or lift our voicesunnecessarily. He also asked us not to preach about di-vine healing or on the Holy Spirit, as the Nazis thinkthese things fanatical and would close the church.

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The difficulties of worshiping in Nazi Germany madethe faith seem all the dearer. The fellowship with thesaints in Germany was precious. We were saddened tolearn that shortly after our visit most of the churcheswere closed by Hitler and padlocked in his mad fight toplace all churches under his direct supervision.

The final leg of our tour took us into Scandinavia,the glorious land of the Midnight Sun. Mr. Carter and Iwere invited to conduct special meetings at Oslo in thegreat Filadelfia Temple (Church of Brotherly Love),which was the largest in Norway. Thousands packed thistremendous church, with hundreds of people standingon the outside. God gave great grace to the services there,and in Stockholm, Copenhagen, Amsterdam, Rotterdam,and other cities as well. Everywhere we preached theLord confirmed His Word with signs following.

While in Holland, Mr. Carter had an attack of ma-laria and we canceled our engagements in Belgium,France, and Switzerland, flying directly to London, hav-ing circumnavigated the globe. Mr. Carter made the com-ment, “We started with nothing, we return with nothing,and we desire nothing but the privilege of proclaimingthe glad news that ‘Hallelujah, our Lord God Omnipo-tent Reigneth!’”

For over two years we had averaged traveling a thou-sand miles a week through thirty countries and the is-lands of the sea. We had preached in eighteen foreignlanguages with the help of sixty-five interpreters. Yetmy insatiable desire to reach the lost masses of the worldhad only increased.

Standing in the White Russian railway station inMoscow, I remembered reading a local newspaper writ-ten in English. A young Communist leader had stated inan article, “We young Communists of Russia will live

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for Communism and we will die for Communism!” Thatrash declaration sent a wave of holy indignation overmy being. I could do no less for Christ. I knew that myjourney had just begun!

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71

5Three months after that first missionary tour with

Howard Carter ended in London, we sailed back to theshores of America in 1936. It had been two-and-one-half years since I had started on my round-the-world trip.It seemed longer.

First, Brother Carter and I came into Toronto, Canada,to speak at a national conference. From there we madeour separate ways down into the United States. I minis-tered at churches in New York, Washington, D.C., andPhiladelphia, and then into the South where I was ableto visit with my parents. Next I traveled into the Mid-west, up to Chicago, and over to South Bend, Indiana,for speaking engagements. The revival in South Bendwas a particularly blessed one, although initially I wasnot impressed with the city itself. The meetings, whichwere first scheduled at the South Bend Gospel Taber-nacle for a weekend with Pastor Thomas Zimmerman,continued for several weeks. This meeting brought manyinvitations for others. Little did I know that this fair cityin America’s heartland would later become my home.

During these few months of evangelistic work in theUnited States, my heart was very restless. I yearned to

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get back to the heathen on foreign soil and that opportu-nity wasn’t long in materializing.

Howard Carter flew down to Brazil for a special Bibleconference and I followed a few days later by ship. Therewe teamed up and ministered throughout this largest ofthe South American countries. We carried the messageto the great cities and then penetrated the hinterland, allthe way to the wild tropical borders of Bolivia.

After several months in Brazil we sailed back intowar torn Europe, preaching first in Portugal and then inEngland, France, Switzerland and Holland.

Ministering to the French people was particularlygratifying on this tour. In those days, just before the Sec-ond World War hit, we saw a tremendous move of Godfrom one end of France to the other. We spent severalweeks itinerating the new churches throughout Francethat had been raised up by an Englishman named Dou-glas Scott.

The people of this predominantly Catholic landseemed to have a greater than usual faith. They wouldclaim and receive healing for just about anything wewould pray for.

We found the superstitions of the French sometimesperturbing. One night a lady came to the meeting, gotall excited, accepted Jesus as her Savior, and asked for aBible. When she came into the church the next night sheannounced enthusiastically, “It worked!”

“What worked?” I asked.“The book you gave me.”“Why, did you read it all night?”“No,” she said. “I put it in the mailbox all night and

it kept the devils out of my house.”I explained to her that the book is powerful when

you read it and it gets inside of you, not when you stick

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it in the mailbox.While in Europe, we made our headquarters at the

Hampstead Bible Institute in London. I traveled in cru-sades, teaching at the Bible school between meetings.Howard Carter, as president of the college, asked me tolecture on evangelism.

In England I pioneered three new churches. Withoutdenominational backing I would rent a hall and conducta crusade assisted by a talented young man who directedthe music. We would advertise the crusades by distrib-uting handbills and placing ads in the local newspapers.These meetings were blessed with marvelous conver-sions and healings.

My American preaching style was not always re-ceived by the staid English. After preaching a few nightsin one rented hall in a London suburb, I was approachedby a dear little old English lady. “You know, Mr.Sumrall,” she stated, “God is not deaf. You are yellingtoo loudly!”

I leaned over and put my hand on her shoulder andreplied tenderly, “Yes, sister, and did you know that Godis not nervous either?”

In 1939, Europe was neither a safe place in which tolive or minister, as the chariots of war were racing furi-ously across the continent.

Throughout the two years that I lived in and out ofLondon, the British intelligence would occasionallyknock at my door and ask, “How are you getting along?”Then they would ask me to show them American moneyto prove that I wasn’t without funds. Now as the warwas intensifying, I was notified by British authoritiesthat Americans with temporary visas should prepare toleave. A personal visit by the British police finally madeit clear; I had no choice but to return to America. Howard

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Carter, being a British citizen, stayed with the Bibleschool. I took a freight ship from Holland across theAtlantic to the United States. On this exciting trip I wasthe only passenger and had the run of the ship.

For about six months I preached in churches acrossAmerica. But, as before, the call to world evangelismwould not let me go.

I was in a special missionary service in South Bend,Indiana, and heard a missionary to Alaska speak. Histale was one of the most pitiful I had ever heard. Hetalked about how difficult the work was in Alaska, say-ing that he had spent most of his life there and it was thehardest place in the world to win souls. The challengegripped me when he said it was impossible to get anevangelist to visit Alaska. After the service he told meto my face that evangelists were afraid to come to thatfar northern territory where drunkenness and debauch-ery were rampant. True to my nature, that was a chal-lenge I couldn’t pass up.

“I’ll come,” I told the missionary. And I went, spend-ing the entire winter season in Alaska, from fall to latespring. It was my joy to preach in nearly every town inthis great land. I spoke in the high schools, lectured inthe University of Alaska, and preached as far north asWiseman, seventy miles north of the Arctic Circle, andas far west as Nome, on the Bering Sea.

During that long arctic winter I was used of the Lordto raise up new churches in Ketchikan, Fairbanks, andAnchorage. All three of these are still good churchestoday. As in England, I was not subsidized in this work.However, through the freewill offerings of the people,God more than supplied the need.

Just as I arrived back into the States, the doomsdaynews came that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor.

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The nation was thrown suddenly and violently into theSecond World War. As a concerned citizen I rushed downto the navy enlistment office and volunteered my ser-vices as a chaplain. The sergeant across the desk lookedthrough my credentials then looked up at me and said,“After reading what you have been doing, if I were youI would just keep on doing it. We have plenty of men tofill our quota of chaplains.”

If I thought he was telling me that I was doing toomuch good to change my missionary work, he soon shat-tered that. “The kind of men we want as chaplains,” thesergeant added, “are not evangelistic types like you. Youwill just run into a lot of problems in the chaplaincy.”

I thanked the sergeant kindly, walked out, repackedmy bags, and headed south of the border for what wouldturn out to be a two-year extended missionary-evange-lism tour through Latin America.

The world was at war but I seemed lost from off theface of the earth. I lived in the cities and jungles of Cen-tral and South America, journeying from Mexico to Ar-gentina, not missing one country. I traveled by mule-back, canoe, freight truck, and every other means imag-inable. In one primitive area I did not sleep in a bed forseveral months but slept in jungle hammocks, on floors,or wherever I could find a smooth spot to lay down. Itwas thrilling and gratifying to see thousands of peoplehealed, both soul and body. Some of my experiencesand observations of this tour are recorded in my book,Through Blood and Fire in Latin America. I dedicatedthis book to the forty Christian denominations in whichI ministered.

Our southern neighbors marshaled themselves be-fore me in a fascinating variety of colors and cultures.As I wandered through their streets and plazas, I had

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ambivalent feelings—one moment the scene resembledChina, and the next moment, Java or France. A touch ofevery other part of the earth contributed to making thekaleidoscope that is Latin America.

The world understands and can analyze the religionof India, China, or Africa, but comprehending the reli-gion of Latin America is more difficult. Contrary to whatI had been led to believe, the Catholic church did nothave a monopoly on the people there.

In the vast Gran Chaco of Argentina and Paraguay,the heart of South America, I ministered to many tribesof the original men of this continent. They are indeed“forgotten men,” having been neglected by governments,charities, and most religious communions. Their plightis shared by their brother tribes from the once mightyAztecs of Mexico to the Onas and Techuelches ofPatagonia. I have never been confronted with more direpoverty and depressing human hopelessness than whilevisiting the remote primitive villages of these indigenouspeoples of Latin America. They comprise an estimated356 known tribes, many of them existing in a state ofcannibalism and savagery.

The Spanish found the Incas living in houses of gran-ite; I found them living in houses of mud. Once thisproud race wore golden ornaments, but I saw them wear-ing brass, copper, and alloys. This tragic economic dete-rioration of the red man has been brought about by hiswhite “superiors,” much of it in the name of Christianity.

I was shocked to hear people say that the Indians donot possess souls; therefore, it is useless to attempt toevangelize them. Many believe, as did the Spanish theo-logian Sepulveda, that “As the Indians were not men-tioned in the Holy Scriptures they do not belong to thehuman race, and for that reason can be legitimately used

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by Christians for private ends.”Agusto Schiambari, the Indian chief of Gran Pajonal,

mentioned that the priests still take Indian children(against the will of the parents) and sell them into homesin the cities as “permanent” servants.

Because of these abuses, to ask an Indian of the GranChaco to become a Christian is to insult him. He re-gards all white men as “Christiano” and he an Indian.To him, becoming a Christian would be asking him tohate his own people. Therefore, I learned that the onlysuccessful approach was to teach them of a world Sav-ior whose name is Jesus Christ, and ask them to be-come “believers.”

Most of the civilized tribes are Catholic in name, butI found that in reality they have a dual religion. Thispeculiar brand of Latin American Romanism incorpo-rates many of the Indian’s ancient pagan beliefs. InChichicastanango, some of the nationals told me, “Wepray to the Virgin and if she does not answer, we go tothe witch doctor, who communes with the gods of ourfathers and he answers our prayers.”

Drunkenness was common among the Indians. I sawthem often during the holy feast days, lying in the churchdoorways so intoxicated that they could not stand. InHuancayo, Peru, I observed an Indian funeral whereevery man and woman present was drunk. While somelay on the ground completely intoxicated, others tried topush dirt over the coffin. They had no religious ritesbecause no priest wanted to be bothered. My heart achedas I witnessed throwing their dead into a hole without aword or a song.

During this very time that I was ministering acrossCentral and South America, many influential churchmenin the United States were advocating the removal of all

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Protestant missionaries from Latin America as part ofthe Good Neighbor Policy. I found that intelligent peoplein Latin America were horrified by the North American’slack of knowledge regarding their true religious beliefs.

In one small town in Central America, thecommandante (equivalent to our chief of police) waseager to grant permission for a series of evangelisticmeetings. It happened that he was angry with the localpriest who had created a lottery and raffled off the vir-tue of the Virgin Mary. The lucky ticket had been drawnby chance by a local prostitute. Although she was nowthe proud possessor of the virtue of the Holy Virgin, shecontinued to operate her house of ill fame.

In many cities of both Central and South America Inoticed that there were small images representing thechild Jesus displayed in the Catholic churches. Theseimages were reported to have come into existence bymiraculous means. Typical of these was the “Holy Childof Atocho” in Santa Ana, El Salvador. The image hasblue eyes, is dressed in clothing similar to that worn bya modern priest, is fat like a monk, and yet is supposedto be a Jew. The priests say that the little image fell fromheaven. The child images are constantly presented withcostly gifts from many devoted but misled worshipers.

One of the things hardest for me to accept in LatinAmerica was the common use of sacred names. I metmany people named Jesus, both men and women. WhenI met Senor Don Espiritu Santo (Mr. Holy Spirit) Ithought his name to be a sacrilege in the christening pro-cess. I was horrified at the ultimate blasphemy of a sa-loon named “Sangre de Jesus” (Blood of Jesus).

It was impossible not to notice the ringing of thechurch bells in Latin America. The people were taughtby the priests that the slow mournful pealing of the bells

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for funerals is of spiritual significance and helps the dead.However, I was impressed that for some funerals thebells rang only a few times while at others they pealedfor several hours. I was informed that there was a chargeof ten cents for each time the bell was rung. If a personhad no money the bell would not toll for him at all.

In some parts of Latin America the local priests triedto keep the people away from our meetings by tellingthem that the evangelicals buy human souls for moneyand that the people who attend their meetings have soldtheir souls to them. God even turned this around for Hisglory. Poor people came and asked how much the mis-sionary would pay for their souls, making a wonderfulopportunity to give the simple gospel of Christ to thosein great darkness.

Occultism was another religion embraced by a largenumber of Latin Americans. While stepping from a taxiin Bucaramanga, Colombia, returning from a youth meet-ing at the local Presbyterian mission, the taxi driverproudly announced, “I have North American religion,too!” He enthusiastically took from his pocket some lit-erature from the United States and showed it to the mis-sionary and I. The front cover read, “From theRosacrucians in San Jose.” We lost no time in explain-ing to the taxi driver that this was not North AmericanChristianity. We presented him with a New Testament,which he gladly received.

This was one of numerous brushes with occultismwhich deeply stirred my soul. The growth of esotericsystems of spiritism, theosophy, Rosacrucianism, I Am,metaphysics, etc., throughout Central and SouthAmerica, is alarming. In one town of about one hundredthousand in Brazil, I saw ten or fifteen spiritist centerson the main streets. Someone informed me that there

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were sixty-three in the city altogether. Most of these spir-itists also belong to the Catholic church, making reli-gion even more confusing. There were liberal Catholicchurches where séances were permitted in the church.

As I ministered the gospel in this complex andbewildering religious confusion, I realized that the an-swer was not to plant Protestantism as just another cultin Latin America. Rather, I longed to see the person ofJesus planted in the hearts of the people. Often whilepreaching before large congregations throughout LatinAmerica, I declared that I had not come to convert thepeople to Protestantism, but to Jesus Christ. I was madeto realize afresh that the world does not need anotherreligion, but the only Savior and Redeemer.

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6It was at a wedding in the great South American

metropolis of Buenos Aires, Argentina. The setting wasa typically Latin patio with sun streaming through theluxuriant foliage overhead. Golden shafts in the greendappled the cool, flowered mosaic of the patio floor.

Among the many women who were busily decorat-ing the tables for the wedding dinner, one striking younglady caught my immediate interest. I asked a missionaryfriend to introduce us. She was Miss Louise Layman, acharming young missionary from Canada. I was en-chanted by her sweet smile and gracious manner fromthe moment I first saw her.

“So this is Louise Layman,” I mused. I had heard ofher before. Back in the autumn of 1940, en route toAlaska, I had conducted a week of special meetings inPrince Rupert, British Columbia. The pastor there hadinformed me that on the same day that I sailed north forAlaska, a missionary from South America, a Miss Lay-man, arrived on a boat from the south to give talks onthe Argentine. We had missed meeting each other by afew hours. Upon the return trip from Alaska, I preachedin several Canadian churches and in each town the

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Christians spoke of the missionary from the Argentineand of the rich blessing she had been to them.

She had ministered where only the most courageousand zealous dared go. I admired her before I knew her.

On my missionary tour of Latin America, once againmy curiosity about Louise Layman was aroused. In thelovely city of Mendoza, Argentina, in the home of a mis-sionary, I heard how she had come up from Buenos Airesand labored with these people for six months. Thesefriends declared that her life had brought golden sun-shine into their home and great blessing to their mission.

Now, across a wedding table, we finally met.A vivid recollection of that fateful day is of a brief

moment as Louise was playing the bridal march on theelectric organ. It happened as the bride marched in andstood beside her groom at the altar. I looked up towardLouise; she looked back, and we both smiled. That’s all.But something churned way down inside me. We laterteased each other as to who smiled first, but we bothknew it was simultaneous.

The next time I saw Louise was in Henderson, sevenhours by train from Buenos Aires. It was at eight o’clockon Christmas Day that my interpreter, Mr. Sorensen, andI arrived at the local mission station. I was surprised tofind a gaily wrapped parcel under the family Christmastree with my name on it. My surprise turned to mildembarrassment when I opened the gift to find that it wasa little wooden donkey with wheels under his feet. Louisehad given me my first gift. I christened the donkey“Luisa” (Louise in Spanish). A few days later, while inthe home of a missionary with a small child, I gave theburro away.

From Argentina I traveled up the La Plata and Para-guay rivers to Asuncion, Paraguay. Several days on

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horseback then took me to the Church of England mis-sion among the Legua-Moscoy Indians of the GranChaco Boreal. On this long journey I wrote a letter toMiss Layman, thanking her for the donkey and tellingher of giving it to the child. Upon returning to AsuncionI found a rather indignant letter from Louise regardingthe donkey affair.

I wrote back to apologize and she answered to say Iwas forgiven. Then I wrote to say “Thanks,” and shewrote to say “You are welcome.” Thus for better than ayear we continued to correspond. Eventually I proposedmarriage to Louise and she accepted, all by mail.

Wednesday, February 15, 1944, was the second great-est day of my life. The greatest day was when at the ageof seventeen I decided to follow Jesus. The second dayin importance was my thirty-first birthday, when I askedMiss Layman to be my wife.

I had returned to the United States from the two-yeartour to Central and South America and was preaching aseries of meetings in Minnesota when I finally decidedto send the letter of proposal. Day and night for weeks Ihad sought God to be certain of His will in the matter. Ihad also sought the advice of several Christian peoplewhom I respected.

When I wrote the letter of proposal, my brain waswhirling and my heart was beating fast. The first letterdid not satisfy me, so I rewrote it. The second draftsounded too formal, so I rewrote it again. That after-noon I stuck an airmail stamp on the final draft, sealed itwith a prayer and a kiss, and sent it on the wings of thewind to far-off Argentina.

Thirty-one days later, March 18, 1944, the postmandelivered Louise’s answer. That day I made this entry inmy diary:

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“I am engaged today! One month and threedays after I wrote my proposal, the answer wasreceived. Sitting here in the great Pan Americanair terminal in Mexico City, waiting for the planeto take me to Tuxpan where I shall go back andvisit the Otomi Indians, I read again the letter re-ceived this morning from Louise, forwarded tome from my home in Chicago. She has consentedto leave the Argentine and return home to Canadawhere we shall be married later this year. MayGod unite our lives to do a great work for Him inevery part of the world. She said she had prayedabout the matter for a week and had consultedher senior missionaries on the field—that is agood spirit. The long string is about to knot! Myheart feels certain she will make a fine compan-ion as she is the choice of God, and my choice.The distance is so great and the war restrictionsand censorships so slow, it takes time for word tocome and go. I trust the same censor read bothletters and knows how it all came out.”Louise had three months to prepare for departure

from Argentina. When the long-awaited day arrived thatI was to meet her at the glittering international airport atNew Orleans, her plane did not arrive. The followingevening at seven her name appeared on the passengerlist. Even then the immigration authorities would notrelease her until some American stood responsible forher crossing the States and entering Canada. I was morethan glad to take Louise off the immigration authorities’hands. We embraced, and I whisked her away in my greenHudson coupe.

After Louise arrived home in London, Ontario, myHudson became quite well known in the district. I was

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traveling to various cities in both Michigan and Ontarioduring those months of May to September. Every pos-sible chance I headed for London and my beloved Louise.

These were days of romance, dreams, planning forthe future and making memories. It was a time ofsynchronizing two personalities, of blending two livestoward a harmonious whole. We were amazed to learnhow our ideas and ideals ran parallel. Never have I knownof two lives so alike to be so miraculously led in sepa-rate ways until ultimately united to labor for the Lord.

Our birth dates were only eleven days apart; bothhad accepted Christ as teenagers and promptly givenour lives to the Christian ministry; both felt a call toforeign missionary work; both had first departed for themission field on the same month of the same year. OnSeptember 30, 1944, at the age of thirty-one, the two ofus became one.

It was a beautiful “Indian summer” afternoon, a per-fect day for a wedding. At exactly 2:30 P.M., I stoodfacing the altar at attention as the organ played the fa-miliar strains of Lohengrin. My pulse quickened and mybreath drew short as the vision of loveliness that wasLouise seemed to float down the white-carpeted aisleon the arm of her stepfather, Rev. J.D. Saunders. Mybrother, Rev. Ernest Sumrall, pastor of the Stone Church,Chicago, was best man. Officiating was Dr. Wortman,missionary physician and uncle of the bride.

At the close of the ceremony, Mrs. Wortman sang“Together With Him.” The last verse of the song wasespecially prophetic of the life we would live together:

Together with Jesus, constrained by His love,We seek for the lost ones and point them above.From valleys of service to mountains of restHe guides us and keeps us; in Him we are blest.

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Our union was pronounced; the wedding supper wasended; and farewells were said. Our Hudson roared awayacross the twilight of the Ontario countryside, rich in itsautumn colors, toward Niagara Falls. Four hours laterwe arrived at the honeymoon cottage that we had re-served overlooking the world famous cataracts. But ourhoneymoon would not end at Niagara Falls. It would beextended into a fifty thousand mile missionary journeythat would lead us throughout the Americas, literallyfrom top to bottom and back.

Like the Apostle Paul on his missionary journeys,we had no predetermined itinerary planned. We set outto minister in as many countries as the Lord would di-rect, and the doors of ministry were miraculously openedbefore us. Travel was extremely difficult during thoseyears when the world was at war, but time and again theinvisible hand of God made the way for us when hu-manly speaking there was no way.

After leaving the majestic waterfalls of Niagara,where we spent several pleasant days, the first serviceof our united ministry was at a Thanksgiving youth rallyin the Canadian metropolis of Toronto. Next, we con-ducted a week of special meetings in Montreal, capitalof Quebec and the citadel of French culture in NorthAmerica. We preached through an interpreter to theFrench-Canadians, whose lively meetings reminded meforcefully of earlier visits to France.

From Montreal we boarded a train for a long weary-ing journey through the provinces of Quebec and NewBrunswick, to the Peninsula of Nova Scotia. We had beentold that the Maritime Provinces had been largely ne-glected by the evangelists. This challenge compelled usto enter Nova Scotia to conduct crusade meetings. Wefound this province to be backward and primitive by the

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standards of the great interior cities of Canada. Our itin-erary formed a circular route around the peninsula wherewe ministered in a dozen cities and towns. We did notwitness the sweeping revivals among these conserva-tive residents of Nova Scotia that we would later see inLatin America, but the Lord graciously blessed and anumber accepted the saving grace of Jesus Christ.

Our experiences in the town of Lockport were typi-cal of the simple lifestyle we shared with the people ofNova Scotia. We lived with a poor family in the ruralsection where we slept in the front room on an impro-vised bed. The house heater was in this room. In themornings it became my responsibility to arise early andmake a fire in the old wood stove. Then we tidied up theroom for the family to use as a sitting room during theday. Meals were served in the kitchen near the heat ofthe wood range and we washed in a basin of water nearthe table. Although they were poor in material goods,the hospitality we received from this kind family, andothers like them, was honest and unembellished. Weenjoyed it.

The weeks passed quickly. Our work in Nova Scotiasoon ended. And Louise and I arrived back in the UnitedStates in time for a great New Year’s youth rally in Detroit.But we were back in the United States only to make prepara-tions for the southern portion of our honeymoon journey.Our hearts and minds were set toward Latin America.

Our application for a passport to travel in CentralAmerica and the West Indies was refused on the groundsof international disturbances. Puerto Rico and the Vir-gin Islands were American possessions and no passportwould be needed to visit there. However, we ran intoanother difficulty. The army would not permit NorthAmerican women to enter Puerto Rico during the war

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unless they had professional reasons. We petitioned thearmy chief and within ten days Louise was granted entryinto Puerto Rico.

Light was bursting over the Atlantic horizon as ourDouglas DC-3, a twenty-one seater, skirted Biscayne Bayand the city of Miami and headed across the straits ofFlorida toward the sparkling Caribbean Sea. By 2:30P.M., after a short stop in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, we landedin San Juan, the capital of Puerto Rico. It didn’t seempossible that we were 1,000 miles from Miami, Florida.

We were pleasantly surprised in San Juan by a greatwelcome meeting that was arranged for our first nighton the island. Pastors from various parts of the islandwere present, along with the entire student body and fac-ulty of Mizpah Bible School. It was a grand meetingand at the close, when I gave the appeal, eight soulscame forward for salvation. It seemed to be God’s sealof blessing upon this part of our missionary venture.

The churches of Puerto Rico we found to be strongand indigenous, governed and propagated by nationals.We had a religious liberty here that was absent in muchof Latin America.

In various cities we applied for and readily securedpermission to use the city plaza for a public meeting. Ineach place hundreds listened to the gospel over the loud-speakers. There was no heckling and few disturbances.While I was preaching in San Juan one night, fivedrunken men disrupted the meeting. Police arrived andpromptly took them to prison. The penalty for disturb-ing public worship was six months in jail or $500 fine,or both. The law was strictly enforced.

Some of our most enduring memories in Puerto Ricowere made the day we accepted the invitation to visit ajungle wedding. We were informed the walk from the

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road terminal to the jungle church was only two kilome-ters and that we could wear our good clothes. We learnedotherwise—the hard way.

Our party trudged slowly into the tropical jungles.The trail was just a narrow path up the almost perpen-dicular sides of the mountain. Coffee and bananas grewin abundance on the steep mountain slopes. Oftentimesa gorge, hundreds of feet deep, was only a slip of thefoot away. The trail was studded with sharp slippery rocksthat caused us to stumble often.

The worst part of the climb was the heat of the ter-rific tropical sun. We became drenched with perspira-tion. My belt became water soaked, faded, and discol-ored my clothes. My coat clung to me like a shapelesswet rag. Louise had been told to wear a pair of whiteshoes—which she ruined that day.

We walked until noon, having started at nine. Theentire group was exhausted and some insisted on stop-ping to rest when the guide admitted that he was reallylost. When the group heard this, some grumbled whileothers wept. On the trail through the dense wildernesswe had seen no one. We had not seen half a dozen hutseven on distant hillsides. As we turned to start down aslope, we experienced a tropical downpour of rain. Thewet red earth was as slippery as soap but not nearly soclean. Several times we had to cross mountain streams.Like Gideon’s band, we refreshed our weary dehydratedbodies with a few handfuls scooped up as we crossed.

It was past two-thirty in the afternoon when we founda small cottage on the side of the mountain where a familyof Christians welcomed us. These good people insistedthat we borrow some of their clothing while ours dried.Then we laid down to rest and these folk served us friedeggs and fried bananas—in bed.

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While we rested, the farmer took his ancient shot-gun and, with perfect aim, wounded a chicken. Spry asa boy, he then jumped over a precipice and caught theflopping fowl, which he butchered and we ate.

At six-thirty we decided to try to make it to the wed-ding. We learned that the church was now just three hillsaway. We slipped and slid and climbed, arriving too latefor the wedding supper but in time for the ceremony.We were filthy with red and orange colored mud. Ourbodies were becoming sore and cold from the dampclothing in the high mountains.

The meeting began with everyone praying heartilyin unison, including the bride and groom. The officiat-ing minister then announced a hymn and the congrega-tion began to sing in Spanish, “Yes, our Lord is comingback to earth again….” Then they sang, “How Firm aFoundation,” followed by another prayer in concert.

Next, the pastor announced he had brought a visitorwith him who had traveled around the world and that hewas sure the visitor would be glad to preach a sermonfor them. While the people listened intently and patiently,I spoke about the marriage of the Lamb of God and Hisbride, the Church. Louise interpreted for me.

After the message, the pastor announced he wouldperform the ceremony. In the flickering light of a kero-sene lamp he read the ritual and then proceeded to givea personal talk to the young couple. In plain languagehe told the young man that he was to be faithful to hisnew bride. Then he lectured the girl that she must serveher husband and take care of her home. Finally, he ad-monished the young people in the congregation that ifthey were seriously in love it was best to marry as quicklyas possible, thereby giving no place to Satan.

The ceremony closed with another prayer and the large

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crowd marched out into a long procession. They fileddown a mountain path by the light of mechones, a bottlefilled with oil with a rag protruding from the top. It wasafter midnight when the late dinner was ended at thebride’s home. The newlyweds bade farewell, then setout into the night. Ahead of them was a two-hour walkover a series of muddy hills to a small cottage that hadbeen prepared by the groom.

After a short night of sleep we were up at dawn thenext day to start our trek back across the mountains to-ward civilization. Our feet were so blistered we couldhardly limp. Yet we made it back to Ponce in plenty oftime for a preaching engagement that night.

The most distressing time during our 50,000 milehoneymoon came after visiting the Santurce Franquitoin Puerto Rico. Here we were both bitten by contami-nated mosquitoes and Louise contracted malignant ma-laria. Her fever shot up to over a hundred and three. Thefever abated for a few days and then came a second at-tack, worse than the first. I was quite concerned for mybride so I went to consult an American-educated doctor.After hearing my description of her symptoms he of-fered little hope, saying that she would perhaps be deadbefore morning. I was scheduled to preach that night.Even though my wife was at the point of death I felt thatmy obligation to win the lost came first. I left Louisewith some nationals and went to my appointment. Asthe old bus jogged into the country toward the churchthat evening I sat and wept. My interpreter sitting be-side me wept. At every turn of the road the devil seemedto say to me, “You will bury your wife on this island.”As I prayed, faith welled up inside me and I answeredthe devil half aloud, “Satan, you are a liar. My wife willlive. She will be healed tonight!”

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At the revival crusade I told the congregation whatthe doctor had told me earlier that day. These simpletrusting saints of God prayed for Louise and togetherwe claimed her healing.

After the meeting I rushed back to her and knelt be-side her bed. As I prayed the fever miraculously left!She was completely healed that night. Though we trav-eled on through the West Indies and South America, upthe Amazon River for 1,100 miles where there are mil-lions of mosquitoes, there was no recurrence of malaria.

Invitations came from missionaries in the Virgin Is-lands who had heard of our revival mission. Feeling itGod’s will for us to continue our journey in that direc-tion, we bought airline tickets to St. Croix, the largestisland in the Virgin group, made up of fifty islets andcays.

Life in the Virgin Islands seemed to us a dream world.Everything was quiet, peaceful, and slow. The natives,90 percent of African descent, lolled around as if therewere no work to do. The people were ultra-friendly—almost too much so. As we walked down the streets ofSt. Croix, small groups would congregate and discussus among themselves. When we passed they would stopus and say, “Hello, what is your name? Where are youfrom? Do you like our island?”

We took the plane back to St. Thomas island wherewe were asked to preach in a mission. When the meet-ing began there were only three natives and the two ofus present. The native pastor led the meeting as if thehouse were full. As I spoke the tiny congregation backedme up with “Yeah; at’right; amen; sure.” Before the ser-mon was ended I had a congregation of a dozen whogathered and listened from the doorway. I addressed mostof my remarks to them.

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During this time we were trying to find passage acrossthe Caribbean quarter-moon to Trinidad. Pan AmericanAirways put us on their waiting list but said that it wouldtake months before tickets would be available. Even thenwe would stand a high chance of losing our seats to mili-tary personnel unless we possessed high priority. Ship-ping agencies were no more encouraging than the air-lines.

One day almost by accident, we found a Dutch cargoboat, the Prince Bernhard. This small freighter pliedbetween Dutch Guiana and Puerto Rico during the warbecause it could not return home to Holland. The cap-tain said he would be happy to drop us off in Trinidadon his return trip from Dutch Guiana after he unloadeda cargo of cement from Puerto Rico. The Edward Mill-ers, another missionary couple en route to Uruguay, sailedwith us. We paid one of the crew members to relinquishhis bunk room to our lady folk. Edward and I purchasedarmy cots and slept in the galley. While hundreds werestranded in Puerto Rico with no means of getting away,the Lord opened a way for His servants to continue toTrinidad.

The boat made stops en route at two of the Wind-ward Islands, St. Lucia and Grenada. In Grenada we wereable to preach twice at a native church to a house full ofeager hungry souls. Within a week of leaving PuertoRico, on a torrid August morning, we anchored in theflat, humid harbor of Port-of-Spain, Trinidad. We werenow only ten degrees north of the Equator. Trinidad isseparated from Venezuela, South America, by the Gulfof Paria, seven miles across.

The ship gave its signals of arrival and hoisted itsflags asking for medical, customs, and immigration clear-ance. After two steaming, suffocating hours, the native

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officials dressed in smart, white suits climbed aboardand issued us permits to land.

A walk down the main street in rustic shabby Port-of-Spain was almost like a walk around the world. It is astrange cauldron of Orient, Occident, and Africa boiledtogether. There was every shade of the racial spectrum.The Hindus and Mohammedans had their temples andmany of the Africans and others still practiced their blackmagic on this supposedly Christian island.

Our schedule in Trinidad was full. On the very after-noon we arrived I spoke over the radio-diffusion. I wasthen the speaker for services in the church that night. InPort-of-Spain, the Prince’s Building, the largest audito-rium on the island, was obtained for a special campaign.A great number accepted Christ at these meetings. Wethen continued our ministry to the smaller towns.

In Tunapuna, the Panphilian High School auditoriumwas secured. In Arouca we preached in the Presbyterianchurch. At the great Waller Field Air Base, it was the“Paint Room,” where men found new life. Here Louiseand I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. The mis-sionaries and soldiers gave me a stuffed crocodile andmy wife a beautiful tray made of varicolored inlaid wood.It was now one year since we began married life together,and we had just completed the north half of our 50,000-mile missionary honeymoon.

Flying south toward the huge sub-continent of SouthAmerica, our Pan American plane crossed the equatorto Belem, Brazil. We were in the capital of the rich tropi-cal state of Para, ninety miles up the Amazon from theAtlantic Ocean. In this metropolis of the Amazon wespoke for Rev. Nels Nelson, a Swedish-born mission-ary. In his tremendous church of 3,700 baptized mem-bers we enjoyed large crowds and an enthusiastic

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reception to the gospel. Pastor Nelson kept a record of140 persons who accepted Christ during our ten days ofspecial meetings.

Plans were developed for a flight up the Amazon,the world’s widest and deepest river. This was the ful-fillment of a desire that I had for many years. Our planewas the Baby Clipper, an eleven-seater seaplane. Fivehours after departing Belem, we were in Manaos. It wassweltering hot as we went ashore. A welcomed tropicalcloudburst gave us a good soaking ten minutes after ourarrival.

Manaos was a decaying city. The war had ended andthis boomtown was now deserted by American soldiersand Brazilian rubber pickers. We preached in two mis-sions there, and in both places it was not easy. My wifeand I estimated that 90 percent of the people were un-dernourished and victims of malaria. Many of themseemed to be doped-up and could not participate whole-heartedly in the services. The heat was so oppressivethat it sapped our strength. Nonetheless, we saw a dozenor more make decisions for Christ. We were especiallygrateful for one young soldier who stood up during themessage one evening and announced, “I want this Christright now.” I ended my sermon immediately and led himto Calvary.

On October 31st, we boarded the S.S. Virginia, a“Good Neighbor” ship formerly used on the Mississippi,for our return down the Amazon. In good Latin Ameri-can style, our ship sailed seven days late and there wasnothing we could do but impatiently wait.

Our companions on board ship included pigs, ducks,chickens, turkeys, a dozen cows, two monkeys, a parrot, adog, several cats, many large turtles used for food, and fish.Most of these shared the third-class accommodations

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with many humans. The passengers hung their ham-mocks above the animals unperturbed. We were fortu-nate enough to book first class tickets through the kind-ness of a Baptist friend. In our cabin we roasted by dayand steamed by night.

Being warned not to drink the water on the boat (afriend had contracted typhoid fever that way) we treatedthe muddy waters of the Amazon with Halazone waterpurification tablets. Our menu of rice and beans wassupplemented by “beef on the hoof” brought on board.As we floated downstream at twelve miles per hour, wewatched the men kill a cow, cut her up, and carry thepieces to the kitchen. The bread served on the ship wasrank, but the chef sold better bread—which we bought.

Stopping at six ports of call we took on more cattle.Men on the Virginia screamed and pushed to get theminto an improvised pen. One cow was injured in the pro-cess and left to die on the lower deck. Passengers sleptin hammocks hung between stalls of cattle. Piles of cruderubber, vegetables, fruit, and other goods were alsoloaded onto the already crowded boat.

It was Sunday when we finally arrived back in Belem.Our mission into the interior of Amazonas was com-pleted. We would now travel southward.

Our itinerary took us to crusades in the Brazilian cit-ies of Bahia, Rio de Janeiro, Sao Paulo, and BeloHorizonte. We continued south through Uruguay to Ar-gentina. It was here in Buenos Aires where my wife andI had first met. Now we had returned on our honeymoonmissionary tour. Rev. Jeffery had prepared union meet-ings in the Y.M.C.A. auditorium. These meetings weregreatly blessed of God. We also preached in La Plataand then down to where my wife had formerly minis-tered in Henderson, Argentina.

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Over the majestic snow-capped Andes from Argen-tina, we flew a Pan American World Airways plane to ameeting in Santiago, capital of the boot string republicof Chile. This was a union meeting of all evangelicalsand was conducted in a Presbyterian church. The meet-ings were pregnant with a spirit of revival. Anywherefrom ten to fifty unconverted persons made decisionsfor Christ in each service. It was beautiful to see all de-nominations cooperating harmoniously as one body. TheUnion Evangelical Choir was made up of some four-teen Protestant groups.

A great help in the meetings was Theodore R. Bueno,my interpreter. He seemed to share my anointing as Ipreached, reproducing inflections and emotions thatstruck direct to the hearts of the Chileans.

Saying farewell to our friends in Chile, we departedSantiago at 6:30 in the morning by plane for Peru. Thiswas my third visit to Peru for meetings, the first forLouise. This time it was Easter. Our union meeting washeld in the First Methodist Church, largest church audi-torium in Lima at the time.

One of the things that impressed us most about be-ing in Peru during the Easter season was the unusualparades. The Romanists carried statues depicting Maryas alive and Christ as dead. But in our services amongthe evangelicals, Mary was dead and Christ was alive.Our hearts were overjoyed to see the large church audi-torium packed to overflowing, and many standing nightafter night. Many found the living Savior during thosemeetings.

One of those converted was Alejandro Pickman, ayoung Peruvian of twenty-three. The seed of the gospelhad first been planted in Alejandro’s heart at an open-airmeeting in the plaza of his town of Chilca. He listened

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to the entire service but did not understand the Christianterms used. He did not know how a man could speak ofreligious things without wearing clerical attire. Alejandrohad read a Bible that was given to him as a lad, and hewas curious to understand it better.

Like many ambitious young Peruvians, Alejandrowanted to live in the capital city of Lima. There he ac-cepted a job as a domestic in a wealthy home. One daywhile sweeping the floor he found a printed announce-ment of an open-air meeting conducted by a Catholicwoman. He went to the meeting only to hear a tiradeagainst the Protestants. So crude and rude was thewoman’s agitation that it angered Alejandro. Somethingstirred within him and he boldly interrupted the meetingby declaring to the woman, “I have visited thirty-threeCatholic churches in this city to pray and my heart is notsatisfied. I have decided to become an evangelical.”

That evening Alejandro sat in the second bench atthe union meeting and heard me preach by means of aninterpreter. “How does this American know my life?Why, he has never met me, yet every word he speaks isdirected right to my heart,” he mused.

When the moment of decision arrived, I asked thosewho desired Christ as personal Savior to stand. Alejandrowas one of the first to his feet. With a large group ofpeople he left the crowded auditorium and went into theprayer room for instructions. There he confessed his sins;he confessed his Savior. He now understood the mean-ing of being “born again.”

Alejandro grew steadily in Christ from that moment.Shortly he became secretary of the Rimac Church, adowntown church in Lima. At his own expense, he anda Christian friend made a three-month gospel tour inwhich they spoke in fifty towns and in seventeen public

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schools. The Lord was with them as they sowed the seedof the gospel in the byways of Peru. The last I heard ofAlejandro he was making preparations to enter Bibleschool and become a fulltime minister of the gospel.

This was fulfillment of my main purpose. My goalwas not just to win the few souls I could reach, but alsoto plant the indigenous church and help to see it becomea healthy national organism bringing Christ to the na-tions.

The time for Louise and I to return for a while toAmerica had now come. Leaving the airport in Peru at7:30 A.M., we arrived in New Orleans that night, mak-ing stops in Panama and Guatemala. In Guatemala wedeplaned long enough to rush over to a local church andspeak a few moments before returning to the airport.

When our plane nosed out over the Gulf of Mexico,darkness covered the earth and we lolled back in thereclining seat for a short nap. But we could not sleep;we were too excited. Our great honeymoon adventurewas ending. We were both sad and happy. Our bodieswere weary. According to my wife’s carefully keptrecords we had ministered in twenty countries and is-lands touching approximately one hundred cities andtowns. More than two thousand souls had responded toour invitation to accept Christ as their Savior.

It had also been a time of spiritual growth and matu-rity for the two of us. We had read the entire Bible throughtogether in our private devotions, beginning with the firstpage and ending with the last “Amen.”

The blackness of the night was penetrated by thedazzling lights of New Orleans. As the plane bouncedonto the runway of the airport we didn’t know whetherto laugh or cry. It had been over a year since we left thissame airport for Miami and on to the West Indies. Now

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we were home. The first chapter of our adventure to-gether had ended, but the greatest adventures of our lifewere yet ahead of us.

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7The war had ended while my new bride and I were

on our 50,000 mile honeymoon journey. The world wasquickly returning to normal.

We had been in the city of Ponce, Puerto Rico, whenthe radio announced that the Japanese had surrenderedto the United States. Within minutes of the announce-ment the streets were jammed with people screaming,shouting, waving flags, and rejoicing. There was a tre-mendous sound of horns and sirens and bells. Many ranto the churches and filled the altars with exuberantprayers of thanksgiving to God for peace.

We had continued our tour and by the time we ar-rived back in the United States the war had been overfor about a year. Louise and I were expecting our firstbaby and needed a place to call “home.” We bought alittle house in Springfield, Missouri, which became ourheadquarters for the next several months as we contin-ued to speak throughout America at conventions, campmeetings, and missionary engagements. Our first child,Frank, was born in Springfield on December 31, 1946.

After preaching in several cities throughout theUnited States the opportunity came for me to travel once

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again to Europe to minister among the ruin and rubbleof that war-scarred continent. I left Louise and our newbaby in Springfield, a place where we had many friends.Taking the S.S. Queen Mary, I sailed for Southampton,England. Immediately after arriving in Great Britain, Iwent up to London to see the churches and to ministerin the places where I had been before. I was saddened tosee where a bomb had scored a direct hit on HampsteadBible Institute, effectively destroying it. Howard Carterhad escaped physical injury, but the emotional stress onhim during the war had been almost overwhelming.

It was shocking to see once beautiful buildings nowreduced to bricks and rubble. Where large trees andlovely homes had been there was now nothing butscalped earth. Viewing such sights gave me a strangeand dreadful feeling. I learned to hate war.

The people seemed dazed. The once mighty BritishEmpire was disintegrating. You would hear people say,“You mean we have to be fed by America? You meanthe great British Empire can no longer take care of her-self?” Many Brits were stunned that they had come outof the war bankrupt, and there was not sufficient foodand clothing to meet their needs.

We took the night boat across from Dover, England,to France. I revisited a number of the churches and pastorswhere I had been before in more prosperous times. In Nor-mandy I wept to see the beach where our fighting men hadlanded—and so many perished. It was a scarred and devas-tated scene. Entire towns had been erased from the face ofthe earth. I realized that Americans who have seen war onlyin movies can’t really comprehend its awfulness.

Much of the food available was very bad. In FranceI ate poisoned bread that was made of something otherthan pure wheat and I almost died.

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From France I went by train across Switzerland intoItaly. I was delighted to preach to weary souls through-out many of the cities of Europe. However, the mostsignificant thing that happened on this tour was the workGod began in my own heart. It was during this time thatGod began to urge upon me His plan for evangelizingentire nations in these troubled times.

I returned to America aboard the S.S. Queen Eliza-beth, which gave me time to meditate upon the excitingplan that God was revealing to me.

God showed me that in most of the countries of theworld a revival in the capital city could reach and influ-ence the entire nation. In many of the smaller nationsthe capital is the center of political, educational, eco-nomic, social, and religious life. A great move of God inthe capital with the establishing of a large center of evan-gelism could change the spiritual climate of a nation.

As I traveled from land to land I had seen every kindof missionary work under the sun. What I had seen atthe same time excited and disturbed me. As I went fromplace to place I said, “Lord, we are losing this game;we’re losing the battle.” My heart was broken. I wouldthink of pastors at home who were so occupied with onelittle place and I thought, “If Paul had been like thesemen, he would have gotten Jerusalem saved but the restof the world would have gone to hell.”

I had been in Shanghai, China, in a little church thatseated about fifty people. They didn’t need that manyseats because they had only thirteen people present.Outside of that little place—the front room of a dwell-ing used as a church—were six million Chinese souls. Ican’t tell you how that tormented me. I would walk downthe streets with a prayer in my heart and on my lips:“Lord, there are six million Chinese in one city. How

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are we going to reach them?”There was so much spiritual intrigue in overseas

operations. I saw many of the cities of the world leftvirtually untouched. When I went through CentralAmerica, there wasn’t a single church of our denomina-tion, not one, in any capital of the six republics.

Talking to missionaries and to missions boards Iwould say, “Brethren, why don’t you go to the great cit-ies? That’s where the people are. What are you doingout behind the banana tree?”

They would reply, “Why, brother, it costs too much;we can’t go.” I boiled on the inside like a volcano whenI heard that lame excuse. I thought, “I would go! I wouldpawn my suit or my suitcase, but I would go to the capi-tal city.”

One large Full Gospel organization had missionar-ies in the Philippines for twenty-five years. Every oneof those missionaries had gone through Manila, the capi-tal city, but none stopped. They went into little villagesand towns, some remote places, and the great throbbingheart of the nation was untouched. Manila takes care of75 percent of the total commerce of the whole nation—one city alone holds the whole nation in its hands—andthey hadn’t stopped to raise up a church. Some re-sponded, “It’s not missionary work in the large city. It’sonly missionary work in the jungle where you wrestletigers and kill snakes.” I didn’t like tigers and I didn’tcare for snakes, but the cry of the major cities tore myheart day and night.

The Lord showed me three things about reaching thenations:

1. He showed me that much of the missionarystrivings are almost futile, because we didn’t bind the pow-ers of the devil operating in the land. There is a compelling

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need on the mission field to shackle the powers of Satanand set the people free. Jesus said to first bind the strongman, then take a prey.

2. Then after the people are set free from Satan’spower, the minister or evangelist or missionary must notrun off and leave the new converts. So often in our timeswhen God gave a great revival on the mission field, theevangelist would quickly move on. As a result, most ofthe revival was lost, for the new converts had not beensettled in God’s Word. When God gives a man two orthree sons, he doesn’t run away from them. He buys ahouse and provides for their shelter and care. We’ve gotto do the same in the spiritual realm. When God gives agreat move of His Spirit we must preserve the fruits ofthe revival.

3. There is simply no other way to take the nationsfor Christ except to go into the capital cities, the heart orthe core of the nation, and erect evangelistic centers.Get the people saved and delivered and then they willgo back to their own villages and win their kinsmen toChrist.

I spoke of this to mission boards, in conventions,and churches across America, but it mostly fell upondeaf ears and unbelieving hearts.

The Lord impressed me that I must demonstrate thisplan personally. As I had never been a pastor I felt that Ineeded experience here at home first. Out of a dozeninvitations to pastor churches in different American cit-ies, God placed the city of South Bend, Indiana uponmy heart as a trial ground for this deliverance venture.South Bend was not a strong Protestant center. Thechurches of the city had not sponsored a unified revivaleffort since Billy Sunday’s time. Most of the evangeli-cal churches were struggling to grow. The Lord said that

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in this unlikely place He would show me how His workcould be done quickly and victoriously.

I was conducting a revival in Memphis, Tennessee,when the call came from South Bend. I had conductedsuccessful revival crusades there several times in the pastat the South Bend Gospel Tabernacle. When the churchhad been without a pastor on previous occasions theyhad invited me to come, but I had declined. To be truth-ful I didn’t particularly like the city of South Bend. Whenthey called this time I refused as before saying, “If Iwanted to pastor a church I wouldn’t go to that littletown.”

The following night the people in South Bend calledme again in Memphis. They said, “We have fasted andprayed all day and voted again. You got 100 percent ofthe vote so evidently you are the one to come.”

I said, “Well, that’s very interesting. I appreciate thatvery much, but I can’t come. God bless you,” and hungup the phone.

On the third night another call came from SouthBend. “The Lord told us that you haven’t prayed aboutour invitation.”

I remonstrated, “But I told you I wasn’t coming.”“You are supposed to pray about it,” they replied.“Well, then I will pray.”I did begin to pray about South Bend and as I did the

Lord revealed to me that this was to be my trainingground for accomplishing the burden He had placed onmy heart. I called back the good folk at South Bend andtold them to give me six weeks to close out the meetingsI had scheduled and I would be there.

It was early December when my wife and I and ourbaby son, Frank, arrived at our first pastorate. The SouthBend Gospel Tabernacle was one of the most miserable

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little buildings you would ever see. When you stood onthe side of the auditorium your head would reach theceiling. It was about six feet high. The building had beenput together with secondhand lumber and free labor dur-ing the depression. There were forty adults present inthe Bible class my first Sunday morning. There wereabout one hundred children in the other classes.

The mandate of the people in asking me to come betheir pastor burgeoned my boldness in leading the SouthBend congregation. I told them, “If you want me here,then you will have to follow me. Otherwise, I will leave.”When spring came I sold their building and bought alarge tent. We moved the office and everything into thetent. That was all the church we had.

For eleven weeks we held evangelistic services. Ipreached every night for the first nine weeks myself,then called in an evangelist to help me. God singularlyblessed this venture of faith. By the end of the summerwe had three times more people than the church hadwhen we arrived. During this time we bought a lot onthe corner of Michigan and Ewing, one of the finest in-tersections of the city. God miraculously helped us toraise the $35,000 to pay for the lot. Without any money,and a congregation of mostly poor people, we began tobuild. It was amazing how God led us step by step andsupplied the need as we followed His direction.

After eleven weeks of glorious revival in the tent,snow began to fall in northern Indiana. We rented a thirdfloor dance hall from the Copp Music company down-town and held services there for several months. By thefollowing spring the back part of our new church build-ing was completed and we moved in. By the summer wewere able to occupy our new auditorium that seated athousand. We named the new church Calvary Temple.

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Not more than two or three weeks after moving intoour new building, Rex Humbard came walking into myoffice and said, “I need a meeting very badly. A crusadehas been canceled and our family needs a place to min-ister.”

I had known Rex since we were both teenage evan-gelists in Arkansas. Also, I had preached a revival forReverend Ott in Dallas, where Rex and his father andmother were serving at the time as assistant pastors. Hewas now traveling with his evangelistic team of thir-teen, known as the Humbard Family. I told Rex, “Getthem over here. We are ready for revival.”

By the time the crusade had been going for a fewnights we had more people than we knew how to handle.They were in the streets, inside, outside the building,and standing. We received about a hundred and fifty newmembers into the church during the meeting. Rex said,“I’ll come back next summer with the tent.” I said,Okay,” and the next summer we gained another hundredand fifty new members. Oral Roberts, Clifton Erickson,William Branham, and many other evangelists came tohelp us. The whole world began to hear about what Godwas doing at South Bend.

We rented city buses to bring people to Sundayschool. The mayor of the city came out to see it andsaid, “This is the most fantastic thing in our city.” AsGod helped us to capture the imagination of our city wegrew to have one of the largest Sunday schools andchurches in the nation at that time. We had over onehundred classes in our Sunday school and reached a highattendance of more than twenty-four hundred.

The church expanded so fast that we never stoppedbuilding. It seemed that every month we were addinganother new addition onto the side or the back.

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At the same time that we were building the work inSouth Bend, I continued to be involved in missionarywork around the world. In 1950, I took a six-week mis-sionary tour to Europe, Africa, the Orient, Israel, Egypt,and India. Charles Blair and Ernie Rebb accompaniedme on this trip. In most places we would conduct three-day crusades. I generally spoke on the first night and letthe other men speak on the following nights.

One of the highlights of this crusade was our city-wide crusade in Manila, Philippines. Paul Pipkin ar-ranged the meeting for us at the Rizal Stadium. I hadministered in Hong Kong and Singapore on both sidesof the Philippines, but this was my first visit to this coun-try.

In the three-day crusade we saw hundreds respondto the gospel appeal. We also spoke in a number ofchurches in the area. We saw the awful marks of war.Most of the downtown government buildings stillshowed the signs of battle. Wrecked buildings were ev-erywhere with weeds growing up around them. Manilawas no longer the “Pearl of the Orient.” It was a city sadto look upon, a city with a scarred face and a brokenspirit.

Returning to South Bend I once again lost myself inthe challenge of the work there. In the next two yearswe consolidated the church and paid off its indebted-ness. Also during this time we were blessed with thebirth of our second son, Stephen, on June 27, 1950.

But the world harvest was never out of my mind. Tofurther the cause of world evangelization we had con-ducted a highly successful missionary convention. Thecrowds had filled Calvary Temple and the offerings weregreater than at any previous missionary convention. TheSpirit of God rested beautifully on the people.

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It was about three o’clock on the final Sunday after-noon of the convention and I was alone in my bedroom.As I relaxed for a few minutes before the evening ser-vice, God spoke to my heart. His words were not au-dible, but they were unmistakable. What He said woulddramatically change the course and destiny of my life.

God said, “Will you go to Manila for me?”“But Lord, the work is so great in South Bend now.

You called me to this city and I have not finished mywork here.” I soon found myself arguing with the Lord.“Why not send someone else to Manila? I will stay hereand raise money for missions and take missionary preach-ing tours.”

God did not argue back, but His gentle voice per-sisted, “Will you go to Manila for me?”

One thing that had continued to drive me was thattormenting vision of a world going to hell. Every day itwas the one predominating thought of my mind. When Iwas asleep I often dreamed about it. The vision wouldnot let me go.

My heart was as heavy that afternoon as it had everbeen in my life. Without further hesitation and from thedepths of my inner being, I cried, “Lord, you know I amwilling to go any place in the world as long as you gowith me. Yes, I will go to Manila.”

The Lord replied, “And I will do more for you thanever before.” What a challenge! What a promise!

The burden lifted. Ecstasy flooded my soul like ariver of heavenly blessing. The Spirit witnessed to myspirit that my decision was the will of God. Marchingdownstairs, I announced to my wife, “Darling, we aregoing to Manila! We are going to leave South Bend andraise up a work for God in the Philippines.”

Louise smiled and half seriously asked, “When?”

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“We are going as soon as we can get packed,” I re-plied. Then I told her of God speaking to me in the bed-room. She knew that I was serious and assured me thatshe was ready to go with me.

When I first broke the news to my church board andcongregation, no one seemed to fully believe that Godhad really spoken to me about going to the Philippines.Some said that I was crazy to just walk away from oneof the finest churches in the world to pioneer a work inthe Orient. The people reluctantly accepted my resigna-tion and elected another pastor to take my place at Cal-vary Temple.

As my family and I prepared to go, the call of Ma-nila burned hot within my bosom. Before me was thechallenge of one of the world’s great cities.

Manila is an English-speaking city of several mil-lion people. At the time it was predominately RomanCatholic and rife with false religions and cults. Therewas not one aggressive Full Gospel church in the city.

Through the years I had learned some things aboutGod’s modus operandi. I knew that God works throughmen, calling a specific person for a specific task. In Hisomniscience and for His own purpose He had called meto Manila. I felt both honored and humbled by this pres-sure of divine destiny.

I also knew something about divine timing. God hasHis time for intervention in the affairs of men, for re-vival, for deliverance. I knew I must move with God inHis time, otherwise the opportunity would be foreverlost, the work would go undone.

To me this was no faint knock or timid rap at thedoor of opportunity. It was an incessant pounding thatdemanded my response, and the time was now.

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8The regular ocean liners were on strike in the sum-

mer of 1952. My family and I sailed from San Franciscoon a Swedish freighter, the S.S. Wangaretta, bound forthe South Pacific. A Methodist missionary and familywere the only other passengers. After twenty-two dayson the high seas, we arrived in the Philippine archipelago.

Our first home in Manila was on the campus of BethelBible Institute. A group from the Bible school, underthe leadership of Floyd Horst, was waiting for us to ar-rive. For our church they had rented a hall for $115 amonth. It was on the edge of the city limits about eightmiles from downtown Manila. The area was calledTondo, the worst slum of the city. It was headquartersfor harlots and gangsters. Many of the people of Manilawere afraid to go into this section, especially at night.

The hall was an old vegetable market with steel barson all four sides of the building. Alongside ran a foul-smelling open sewage ditch. The stench was such thatworshipers often sat through the services with a hand-kerchief held over their nose. Once, I saw two dead pigslying in front of the church, covered with flies.

Only forty people were present for my first service

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in the shabby old market that would seat three or fourhundred. Of those, twenty-five were students from theBible School, and the others were visitors from otherchurches. I did not have one member that I could counton. This was quite an adjustment after leaving the greatchurch in South Bend. Yet I was content, believing thatmy labor was by divine appointment.

Almost immediately after arriving in the PhilippinesI was invited up to Baguio. This city in northern Luzonwas known as the gateway to the headhunter country.An American lady missionary, Elva Vanderbout Soriano,had asked us to come and preach to the primitive tribes-men among whom she labored.

Louise and I had been reading in the Manila news-papers warnings for vacationers to stay away fromstreams and waterfalls in northern Luzon’s MountainProvince because headhunters were active in the area atthat time. In the morgue at Clark Air Force Base I hadseen the remains of two young servicemen who hadwandered off into these forbidden mountains. All thatwas left of them were a few teeth-marked pieces, anklesand knees. They had been eaten completely by the can-nibals. Perhaps their heads were hanging now in someremote native hut. As was my nature, I relished the chal-lenge to carry the gospel to these lost souls.

Mrs. Soriano was a remarkable woman. When I firstmet her she had been in Baguio for thirteen years with-out a furlough. Her work was chiefly among the Igorots,one of the largest tribes of Luzon. It is noteworthy howshe obtained the confidence of these primitive people,who do not normally trust outsiders.

A young Igorot boy was in jail in Baguio for theft.When the time came for his release the city officials didnot know what to do with him. One day the chief of

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police met Elva on the street and asked if she wouldtake the pagan boy and train him. She said “Yes,” andthus, almost by accident, entered into a ministry to whichshe would devote the rest of her life.

Elva took the boy into her home, washed him, andgave him his first nice clothes. She nursed his lice andsore-infested body to health and taught him the ways ofcivilization and of Christ. He proved to be a very brightlad who learned quickly. He became a normal, happyyoungster.

News eventually spread to the tribes people far backinto the mountains that a white creature had taken oneof their children. Some of the natives made their waythrough the dense tropical jungles to see how he wasbeing treated. One day Mrs. Soriano noticed little blackeyes peering out from behind the bushes at the edge ofthe jungle near her home. She was surrounded by head-hunters.

They called the little boy over and asked, “What isthe foreigner doing with you? Is she going to eat you?”She was the first white woman some of them had everseen. Finding the boy well and happy they wanted toknow why a woman from a foreign land would love theirpeople. They invited her back with them to their tribe.This opened the door for her to tell these headhuntingcannibals of the loving heavenly Father who cares forus all. Mrs. Soriano soon found herself caring for moreand more of the destitute headhunter children. She earneda reputation as the “Mountain Mother of Luzon.”

One of the peculiar beliefs of the Igorots was thatwhenever twins were born to them they thought one wasthe child of the devil. Their reasoning was that a normalwoman could have only one child, so the other mustbelong to the devil. Since they were not sure which one

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it was, they would usually kill both of them, or feed themto the animals.

Mrs. Soriano had made a ministry of rescuing thesetwins and rearing them. She would send older nativeboys into the jungle looking for newborn twins. When-ever she found a pair she would either beg them fromthe parents or threaten to report the parents to the Phil-ippine soldiers, who would come against them. Theseprimitive people did not seem to mind giving their chil-dren away, rather than feeding them to the animals. Twoof these orphans were named Lester and Louise, aftermy wife and I.

As the tribes became acquainted with Mrs. Sorianothey invited her to visit their villages and preach thegospel of love. Many were won to Christ and little groupsof believers sprang up among the headhunters. Some ofthe young people she sent to Bible schools in differentparts of the Philippines to be trained for gospel work.

The Igorots of Mountain Province have an intricatesystem for legal, domestic, and moral laws. They haveceremonies for marriage, birth, death, war, religious andspecial festive occasions.

One of their most significant ceremonies comes uponthe death of one of their warriors. Whether he is slain byambush or in direct battle, his body is immediatelybrought back to his own hut. Here his corpse is placedin a sitting position in a sung-a-chil, or death chair. Thewomen and children of the family dance around the deadman, shouting to him to take revenge upon his killer.While the ceremony is going on the widow remains in anearby village and mourns the death of her husbandalone.

Several days after the man’s death, the warriors of histribe dress for a war dance. They create a special headgear

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made of betel nut palm, and put red leaves around theirwrists and legs. Then they dance slowly and intricatelytoward the dead man’s house. They begin about one ki-lometer away, beating their cymbals with a human jaw-bone.

Upon arriving at the house of the deceased, the witchdoctor performs a ritual involving a pig sacrifice, withprayers to the war deities to grant a successful revengeupon the killer. Then the warriors feast on the pig meat.

After the feast the body is placed on a stretcher andthe dead man’s arms are tied to two sticks bent cross-wise over the corpse. Four men carry the body to a burialcave and place it in a sitting position with the head sup-ported by a stick against the wall. Years later, the bonesfall to the ground, but the skull will remain hanging ontop of the stick.

After the burial, the warriors meet for another ritualceremony. The priest cuts off the head of a live chickenin the midst of a circle of warriors. They watch as theheadless fowl flops about. Wherever it stops, the mantoward whom the bleeding neck points is selected toavenge the death of the slain warrior. With spear in hand,he begins a head hunt that will not end until his missionis accomplished. Thus, one death leads to another. Fromgeneration to generation the feuds between warring tribescontinue.

For unnumbered centuries some of the headhunterpeople have eaten human flesh. They believe that thisdemonstrates their power and superiority over the en-emy. Warriors boast in the number of human skulls hang-ing around the walls of their huts as a display of theirstrength.

The headhunters are not the same race of people wholive on the plains and inhabit the cities of the Philippines.

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Some anthropologists associate them with the Mongo-lians from the Chinese mainland. Others think they arerelated to the Malayan group, or even with the same strainas the American Indians. Whenever God divided thepeoples of the earth, for His own purpose, these aborigi-nes were isolated for centuries from other cultures andcivilizations. They are a strange looking people, smallin stature, and with primitive features. However, thosewho leave their culture to attend school often prove tobe intelligent and creative. Some have become success-ful in the professions of the outside world.

About the time of Abraham, the Igorots began to digtheir now world-famous rice terraces out of the granitemountainsides. These green-terraced mountains com-prise some of the most fascinating and spectacular scen-ery I have ever seen.

Civilization had come slowly to these forgottenpeople who for millennia have lived in the mountainfastness of Luzon. Only an occasional corrugated steelroof or battery-powered radio gave witness that this wasthe twentieth century. Even the armies of Imperial Ja-pan could not subdue them. But God’s time had comefor the Igorots.

I felt no fear when our evangelistic party started intothe high Cordilleras of Mountain Province, Luzon. Iknew that God was with us. There were no roads to manyof Luzon’s towns and villages. The area included someof the most rugged mountain terrain I have ever encoun-tered. The dense jungle country was ripped by serpen-tine rivers and covered with fog that hugs the high moun-tain tops. To reach inland villages we had to walk forhours, crossing streams and rice paddies and rugged hills.

Our evangelistic party of over twenty people wasalmost like an army. We marched into the mountains

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carrying our food, stove, and beds with us. In a remotevillage we occupied a little house, hanging sheets to sepa-rate the men from the women. Those who did not have acot slept on the floor.

Having a foreigner present attracted the entire tribeto our meetings, meetings held in the open air in front ofa little building. Lanterns were hung around and the na-tives sat cross-legged on the ground.

During the course of my sermon one night, an Igorotlady began to make strange noises in an effort to disturbthe meeting. I raised my hand, looked at her, and in aloud voice demanded, “You shut up and never speak again.”

At the time I did not know she was the chief witchdoctor of the village.

When my interpreter repeated my command thepower of God seemed to descend and the woman wentinto a violent fit. I spoke to her again, “I said shut upand also be still.”

The witch doctor was quiet. From that day on shewas never able to contact the devil again. Satan’s powerover her was broken. God’s victory became the talk ofthe tribe for many months to come.

It was my great joy to see several of the Igorots ac-cept Jesus Christ as Savior. Upon conversion they im-mediately forsook their old ways. Through Christ theybecame a peaceable, friendly, and loving people.

Ministering deliverance to the headhunters was ex-citing and I enjoyed it immensely. In a way it was tempt-ing to devote more time to these tribes. After all, that iswhat many people think missionary work is all about.These were the kind of experiences people loved to hearabout in missionary conventions back in the States.

But my heart was in the bustling, throbbing city ofManila, and most of my efforts were concentrated there.

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The city is where the teeming masses of people were. Iknew that hell could be just as hot for the urbanized,educated heathen of Manila as it would be for the head-hunters. And I was responsible to bring to them the mes-sage of redemption through Jesus Christ.

Those first six months in Manila were extremely frus-trating. At the end of that time I was still at point zero. Ihad thought I could do here what I had done in SouthBend, but things just weren’t working for me. I had sev-eral apparent converts, but when I went to follow themup I found that they had invariably given me the wrongaddress, and probably a fictitious name.

It was obvious we would never establish a strongindigenous church without a more desirable location. Ibegan to look for a lot downtown on which to build achurch even before I had a congregation. I was certainthat God had sent me to build a great evangelistic cen-ter. It was to be the most important edifice in Manila,even more so than the government buildings, and Ineeded a proper location.

At the corner of Taft Avenue and United NationsAvenue, at one of the major intersections of the best partof town, was a site made vacant by bombs from the re-cent war. This lot was bordered by a government officebuilding, a new Y.M.C.A., the Red Cross building, andthe American Bible Society that was around the corner.By the kindness of Rev. Paul Pipkin and help from friendsback home, the $20,000 necessary to purchase this choicepiece of property was secured.

Just prior to our first Thanksgiving in Manila, I re-ceived a cablegram from Australia from evangelist A.C.Valdez, Jr. The message read, “If you and your churchwill support my meetings I will come to Manila for acity-wide crusade and I will guarantee all the expenses.”

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I immediately held a meeting of all the members ofmy church (that was just my wife and I). We sent a cableback to Mr. Valdez saying, “The church is 100 percentbehind you. Send me some money to advertise the crusade.”

It was ridiculous to even think about holding a city-wide campaign in my impoverished, ratty building. Af-ter praying about the situation I went to see the managerof the San Lazaro race track. He had never heard of sucha thing as religious services being held at a race track.“Isn’t it kind of funny, having meetings out there wherethe horses race?” he asked.

“No, it’s not funny,” I answered. “You have this sta-dium here and that’s what we need.”

“Why don’t you go to one of the churches?”I optimistically told him, “The people we are going

to have couldn’t be accommodated in any church. Weare going to have thousands of people here and they aregoing to be saved and healed.”

His eyes brightened up. “You say people are goingto be healed?”

“Yes, God will heal them.”“Listen,” he said, “I have a brother who is a para-

lytic. If you will guarantee me he will be healed you canhave the stadium rent free.”

Without hesitation I put my faith to the test, “Okay,I’ll guarantee that.”

He then told me that I would have to pay for the fiftyjanitors that cleaned the place up. The cost was about$300 per day. I agreed to pay the bill for two weeks.

Immediately I had some flyers printed to publicize themeeting. Floyd Horst, another missionary, and I went aroundtown at midnight putting the announcements on every va-cant wall we could find. We placed an ad in the large Ma-nila Times that went to all the islands of the country.

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For the opening service of the crusade we had abouttwelve hundred people present. They almost filled onebox section of the immense stadium. The second nightour crowd was a little larger and each night the numbergrew. Scores even came by boat from the various is-lands of the archipelago. Before the crusade was over anightly attendance of about five thousand people filledthe entire box section of the stadium. We never did getout to the bleachers.

Over twenty thousand stood for salvation during thetwo weeks, but many of these were the same peoplestanding again each night. Ten thousand came throughthe prayer lines. After every service we prayed for thesick and suffering until past midnight. I noticed that thesame people were coming through the prayer line againand again.

I felt that in spite of the apparently great meeting,we were getting nowhere. I wasn’t sure these peopleunderstood what salvation was all about. I thought thatafter the meeting was over and the evangelist was gone,I might be back in my ramshackle church with nobody.The Lord impressed me to announce that those whowanted to be baptized in water should meet at ManilaBay on Sunday afternoon. Hundreds raised their handsthat they wanted to be baptized as Jesus had been in theRiver Jordan.

To my amazement, thousands were at the waterfrontthat Sunday afternoon. I talked plainly to the crowd,discouraging as many as I could. I wanted to make surethat those being baptized were making a genuine com-mitment. “You must live a clean life and pay the price ifyou are baptized. You may be in trouble because of this.You must be sure that you want to do it.”

That afternoon, 359 men and women were baptized

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by immersion in the name of the Father, and of the Son,and of the Holy Ghost. Our church was born that day inthe warm water of Manila Bay. Those who were bap-tized stayed with us. I was thrilled to see how they sanc-tified their lives and began to show the fruits of holi-ness. The Spirit did this work within them without myhaving to harp on it. Also I noticed that the standard ofliving of these people began to rise as they followed theLord and He prospered them. Among these were manywho later became pastors and evangelists.

Before our first year in Manila had lapsed, we had423 in our Sunday school. Congestion in the old build-ing was terrible. We even had a whole class for nakedchildren. About fifteen or twenty kids came who had noclothing, so we put them in a class by themselves tokeep from mixing them with the other youngsters.

After purchasing the lot in downtown Manila, I founda B-52 hangar owned by the Pepsi-Cola Company thatwas not being used. The hangar must have been worthat least $50,000 but the Pepsi people sold it to the churchfor $10,000. Charles Blair in Denver helped me raisethe money for the hangar by contacting several of ourfriends in the States. We received no denominationalsupport for this large building. We simply trusted Godday by day to provide.

We found a builder to put up the hangar and an ar-chitect to design a lovely front and interior with a bal-cony. The hangar made a surprisingly beautiful buildingwith a Cathedral-like dome rising over forty feet into theair. Forty-foot steel and glass windows adorned each sideof the structure. To me it was the most impressive churchedifice in the country. A large sign over the church de-clared, “Bethel Temple, Christ Is The Answer.” Our churchbecame known as the “Christ Is The Answer Church.”

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But before we completed and moved into our newfacility, I would experience one of the most astonishingcases of divine deliverance in modern times. That miraclewas to become the key to a spiritual revival that wouldshake the entire nation. Manila and the Philippines wouldnever be the same again.

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9Seventeen-year-old Clarita Villanueva had suddenly

become the most talked about person in the Philippines.Her name captured top headlines in the Manila press,and even the world press picked up and carried the story.Every hour on the hour radio newscasts gave updates ofthe sensational story of this young provincial girl whohad been picked up on the streets of Manila for vagrancyand placed in Bilibid Prison.

On May 13, 1953, The Manila Chronicle carried thisreport under the headline, “Police Medics Probe CaseOf Girl Bitten By Devils”:

“Police medical investigators last night failedto give a convincing explanation to the puzzlingcase of the girl who claimed she was being at-tacked by demons, and who substantiated theclaim with marks on her skin.

“At least twenty-five competent persons, in-cluding Manila’s chief of police, Col. CesarLucero, say that it is a very realistic example of ahorrified woman being bitten to insanity by ‘in-visible persons.’ She displayed several bite marks

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all over her body, inflicted by nobody as far asthe twenty-five witnesses could see. Villanuevawrithed in pain, shouted and screamed in anguishwhenever the ‘invisible demons’ attacked her.

“Fr. Benito Vargas (Roman Catholic), chap-lain of the NGH, who witnessed Villanueva inher fits, said it was not his to conclude any ver-dict. But he said the fact remains that ‘I saw herbitten three times.’

“Villanueva claimed she had been seeing the‘invisible persons’ since last Sunday. She claimedthe Phantoms were two—one tall, evil-looking,dark, and garbed in black, and the other short andcherubic, with snow white hair. She said the lat-ter did most of the biting.

“Villanueva was perfectly normal between fits.“After talking for a while, she would shout,

have convulsions and hysterics, all the timescreaming, and her eyes flashing with fire. Thenshe would point to a part of her body being at-tacked, then fall almost senseless into the handsof investigators. Teeth marks, wet with saliva,mark the spots she pointed at.

“All the time, all witnesses aver, she was neverable to bite herself.”I did not read these exciting reports of the young girl

bitten by devils until after she was delivered. The thingthat forced me into the story was a special forty-fiveminute radio broadcast over station DZFM. I had neverheard such a bloodcurdling program in my life. Imme-diately following the ten o’clock evening news, the ra-dio announcer began the program by dramatically stat-ing, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. If you have aweak heart, please turn your radio off!”

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I had a strong heart. Reaching for the radio dial Iturned the volume up.

Instantly a series of piercing screams blared throughthe radio speaker, followed by pandemonium. The voicesof several doctors could be heard through the confu-sion: “This can all be explained”; “Our records showthat this phenomenon has been known before”; “This isepilepsy”; “It is extreme hysteria.”

Other persons were excitedly saying: “The girl isbeing choked by some unseen thing. She is blue in theface and there are marks on her neck.” Another wouldsay, “Look, the marks of teeth appear!” Then Claritawould scream again. Such a haunting, tormenting screamit was—the scream of a girl possessed. I had dealt withthose who were demon-possessed before. There was nodoubt in my mind that Clarita Villanueva was in desper-ate need of divine deliverance.

I was not able to sleep at all that night. Over andover the cry of the possessed girl rang through my ears:“Help me, help me. They are killing me!”

I went into the front room of our home and walkedthe floor. I laid on the floor crying, “Oh, God, you can castthe devil out. Please deliver that poor girl in the city jail.”

After I prayed thus until 6:00 A.M., God definitelyimpressed my heart. “If you will go to the jail and prayfor her, I will deliver her.”

At first I strongly resisted the idea of going to prayfor Clarita. After all, doctors, scientists, professors, le-gal experts, and even spiritualists had tried to help her,and all had failed. Here I was trying to build a new churchin the center of Manila, and I just could not afford theadverse publicity that might come from getting involvedin this case. And then, who did I think I was anyway tosuppose that in a city of several million, I, an unknown

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American, could get an interview with such a notoriousperson as the mayor. However, I learned that where God’sfinger points, there His hand will make a way.

The next morning I was granted an interview withmayor Lacson of Manila. The mayor was visibly shakenby the hopelessness of the doctors before such strangephenomena. He stressed that he could not promise meany safety, for the girl was violent. However, he agreedto allow me to pray for Clarita, if I could get the ap-proval of Dr. Mariano Lara, chief medical adviser of theManila Police Department.

At Bilibid Prison I met Dr. Lara, a professor anddepartment head of Pathology and Legal Medicine atthe Manila Central University, and professorial lecturerof Legal Medicine, University of Santo Tomas. Sittingon a bench in the long, drab prison morgue, I heard thisrespected physician say that in his thirty-eight years ofmedical practice, he had performed over eight thousandautopsies and that he had never found a devil yet. Hetold me that he did not accept the theory that there is anonmaterial force existing in the universe. But this baf-fling Filipino girl, being bitten by unseen assailants, hadchanged his philosophy of life. He turned to me andwhispered, “Reverend, I am humble enough to admitthat I am a frightened man.”

Dr. Lara had reason to be afraid. Psychoanalysis,potent drugs, and even truth serum had all been tried,but “The Thing” persisted in attacking Clarita. A medi-cal doctor who accused her of doing this for a publicitystunt died within four days after she shook a finger athim and said, “You will surely die.”

Until I spoke with Dr. Lara, he had thought religionoffered no answer for Clarita’s dilemma. The RomanCatholic chaplain of Bilibid Prison, the archbishop of

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Manila, and the priests of the Roman Catholic healingcenter at Baclaran had all refused to pray for her. A groupof spiritists had conducted a séance in Bilibid Prison.Afterward, they declared it was the spirit of John theBaptist biting the girl. The medics refused to go alongwith this deduction and asked the spiritists to leave. Irealized that my first hurdle was to convince Dr. Larathat I knew what I was doing and that I could help the girl.

I reasoned with Dr. Lara that there are only threepowers in the universe. First, there is the “positivepower,” or the power of a creative and benevolent God.There is also the “human power,” or the power of menlike ourselves here in the earth. Then there is the ma-levolent and sinister “negative power” of the devil. Iasked Dr. Lara, “Do you think Clarita is acting underGod’s power?”

Thoughtfully, he shook his head. “No, it couldn’t beGod’s power.”

“Then, do you feel that, with your experience in treat-ing humans, she is acting like any human being?”

He hesitantly admitted that this encounter was withsomething that was beyond doubt “supernatural.”

“Then,” I assured him, “there is only one power left.She must be acting under demon power.”

Continuing my line of reasoning with Dr. Lara I said,“If there is a negative force in the universe over which apositive force has no control, our universe would go topieces. If there is an evil which no right can correct,then evil is mightier than right. This cannot be. If thisgirl has demon power in her, then Jesus Christ can de-liver her from that power.”

Opening my Bible, I read from the Gospel of Mark16:17, “And these signs shall follow them that believe;In my name shall they cast out devils….” Dr. Lara was

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amazed to see that Christ had commissioned His churchto exorcise evil spirits. He did not know that casting outof devils was in the Bible.

I volunteered my services to pray for the girl andcast the evil spirits out of her. The doctor assured methat I would be welcome. I then requested that no medi-cation be given Clarita until the next morning, explain-ing that if Jesus healed her He must have all the glory.We made an appointment for me to see Clarita at 8:30the following morning.

After fasting and spending much of the afternoonand evening alone in prayer, I went to the jail the fol-lowing morning. Entering the prison grounds, I saw aswarm of doctors, police officers, photographers, andnewspapermen, representing the local and foreign press.My immediate thought was, “Boy, now you’ve done it.You have really made a fool of yourself.” But I prayedsilently and rejected that thought as the voice of Satan.

Dr. Lara led me down a dusty prison road throughbarbed wire gates to a dreary little chapel. We were fol-lowed by a motley crowd that had not the slightest ideawhat they were going to see. About one hundred specta-tors, including many women prisoners, crowded thesmall chapel. I was the only Protestant among them. Iwas gratified to find that these onlookers were friendlyand even sympathetic. Most of them had already wit-nessed the failure of the doctors, the psychiatrists, andthe spiritists. I sensed that they had hope, if not faith, inGod’s power to answer my prayer. But they were of nospiritual assistance to me.

After we all were gathered in the chapel, Dr. Laraordered that Clarita be brought in. As the frightened girlentered the door she observed each person slowly andclosely. When she came to me at the end of the line, her

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eyes widened and she snarled at me and hissed, “I don’tlike you.” I recognized that it was Satan speaking throughher lips. The voice had been in English, yet Clarita spokethe Tagalog dialect. She could not speak English, andafter she was delivered I had to converse with her throughan interpreter.

I had Clarita sit on a wooden bench and drew up achair in front of her. “Clarita,” I began saying, “I havecome to deliver you from the power of these devils inthe name of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”

Suddenly the girl went into a fit of rage. “No! No!They will kill me!” she screamed. Her body became rigidand she lost consciousness. I grabbed her head firmlywith both hands and cried, “Come out of her you evil andwicked spirit of hell. Come out of her in Jesus’ name!”

She immediately regained consciousness and beganto rage again. The doctors said that this was the firsttime she had instantly come back from one of the trancesthat so baffled them. With hot tears streaking her flushedface, she begged me to leave her alone. She pointed toher neck and stuck out her arm to show me the fresh wetmarks where she had been bitten at that moment. I wasshocked. There were human-like imprints of teeth sosevere that some of the small blood vessels underneaththe skin were broken.

A holy anointing came upon me and I entered intothe greatest spiritual battle of my life. I was angry atSatan and I rebuked him in the name of Jesus. Satan inturn blasphemed through Clarita’s lips and cursed theblood of Jesus in the vilest language.

After a long and violent struggle the girl seemed re-lieved. The demons refused to speak again or to bite her.Some of those present thought the demons were exor-cised, but I told them that the battle was not yet over. It

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was nearly noon and I was soaked with perspiration andexhausted.

I told Dr. Lara that I would go home and fast andpray another day and return the following morning. Myfaith was tested that afternoon when one evening news-paper published my picture on the front page, three col-umns wide, with the headline, “‘The Thing’ Defies Pas-tor.” Another newspaper gave a more optimistic head-line: “Devil Loses Round One.”

Upon arrival at Bilibid the next morning, the captainof the prison said that Clarita had not been bitten sincethe prayer. But the fact that she was not completely de-livered yet was evident as soon as the devils saw me.Clarita again became Satan’s mouthpiece as they criedthrough her, “Go away! Go away!”

Faith welled up within me and I spoke back with athrilling feeling of authority, “No, I am not going away!You are going away. This girl will be delivered today!”

I requested every person present to kneel and helpme pray. I warned them against mocking or laughing forwhen the devils came out of Clarita, they would surelyseek another victim. Doctors, newspapermen, policeofficers, and professors knelt humbly as I prayed. How-ever, a woman prisoner nearby was making light of theaffair and when Clarita was delivered, this inmate wasbitten and immediately lost consciousness. The news-papers carried her story that afternoon.

The extra day of fasting and prayer had made a dif-ference. As I commanded the demons to come out theyseemed to realize it was their last struggle. They cursedand cuddled their victim for a few violent moments andsuddenly I felt release. Clarita relaxed. The glazed other-worldly look left her eyes. She smiled.

An indescribable peace enveloped us. The atmosphere

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in that little Catholic chapel was electric. Around me Isaw newspaper reporters weeping. Doctors were wip-ing their eyes and otherwise hard-boiled jailers were vis-ibly moved. I began to sing softly and others joined insinging with me:

Oh, the blood of JesusOh, the blood of JesusOh, the blood of JesusThat washes white as snow!

I asked Clarita if the demons were gone and she an-swered weakly, “Yes.”

“Where did they go?”She turned her head and pointed toward the steel-

barred window.We were ready to depart when the girl suddenly

screamed again, sending a terrifying chill of horror overeveryone present. The demons had returned!

I cried to them, “Why have you returned? You knowyou must go and not come back.”

Speaking in English through her lips, they replied,“But she is unclean and we have a right to her.”

The demons had no power to resist. They departedand she became normal again.

Through an interpreter I explained to Clarita whathad happened and got her to pray with me for forgive-ness of her sins. She invited Jesus Christ into her lifeand received Him as Savior and Lord. Then I taught herto pray and plead the blood of Jesus against the devil.

From my experience I new that the demons wouldno doubt make one more attempt to victimize Claritaafter I was gone. I instructed her that when this hap-pened she must demand them to leave “in Jesus’ name.”

As I predicted, that same evening at eight o’ clock,

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Clarita let out a bloodcurdling scream. She shouted tothe guard, “Help, they are back to get me! They are stand-ing behind you!”

The horrified guard jumped up on his desk and inshock watched what he calls the greatest struggle he hadever witnessed. He could not see the aggressors, but hecould see the hysterical girl in mortal combat. In des-peration she cried to the guard, “Oh, what did the Ameri-can Father (minister) tell me to do? Tell me quickly!”

The guard, still on the table, shouted back, “Pleadthe blood of Jesus. He said to plead the blood of Jesus.”

Clarita screamed, “I plead the blood of Jesus. Go inJesus’ name.”

At that instant she lurched forward, and she grabbedwith her hands as if she had been suddenly freed. Shethen went into a coma. By this time prison authoritiesand many prisoners had appeared. They laid Clarita ontoa table, and noticed that her fists were tightly shut. Adoctor pried her hands open. To his utter astonishmentthere was a clump of long, coarse black hair in her palmand under her fingernails. Dr. Lara placed this hair intoan envelope and put it in a locked vault. Under a micro-scope it was later determined that the hair was definitelynot human. It could not be identified as belonging toany known creature. This phenomenon I must leave un-answered for the present.

The moment Clarita was delivered, Dr. Lara askedme to go with him to the office of the mayor. Walkingpast a flock of secretaries we were ushered into the in-ner office. Once before the mayor, Dr. Lara triumphantlydeclared, “Clarita has just been delivered. The devilsare gone!”

Mayor Lacson stepped out from behind his desk andgrabbed my hands to thank me for my help. “If there is

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anything we can do for you,” he offered, “just let usknow. We will be happy to do it.” Later the mayor’s kindassistance would prove invaluable to our ministry inManila.

The next day I left the province to get away frompublicity. My only motive in praying for Clarita had beena sincere desire to see a tormented girl delivered fromthe power of the devil. However, my picture appearedon the front pages of newspapers and in magazine ar-ticles throughout the Philippines and in some other partsof the world. My ministry and work became known allover the archipelago. This unsought publicity gave mean influence for good that otherwise I might never haveachieved. This was the miracle that opened the hearts ofthe people of Manila to the full gospel, and it preparedthe way for the great revival which followed.

Another thing that helped prepare the hearts of thepeople of Manila for revival was Oral Roberts’ film ondivine healing, Venture Into Faith. I had prayed that Godmight supply a print for the Philippines, but I had madeno solicitation or contact with Oral. However, as I waspraying in Manila, God was also working on the otherside of the world in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Brother Robertsnot only sent me a print of the film, but also a projectorand a large screen. I showed the film to the pastors be-longing to the Philippine Federation of ChristianChurches and in turn was invited to show it in manyplaces in Manila and throughout the islands. With RubenCandelaria, superintendent of the Manila District of theMethodist Conference, we set up a series of three nightcrusades in which we would show the film, preach de-liverance, and pray for the sick. Aside from the churchesin Manila, we conducted crusades in the provinces ofBulacan, Rizal, Nueva Ecija, Pampanga, Bataan, and

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Mountain Province. No auditorium was large enough toaccommodate the crowds that flocked to those salvationand divine healing campaigns.

The mass distribution of deliverance literature wasalso a contributing factor to revival. Shortly after myarrival in Manila, Gordon Lindsay of Dallas, Texas feltled of God to send me thousands of back issues of hismagazine, The Voice of Healing. Each month when Ireceived the large bundles, I had them put in my office.I felt that God wanted me to use these magazines, but Iwasn’t sure just what to do with them. I had only a smallcongregation and limited means of distribution. Thestacks kept growing higher until they literally reachedfrom the floor to the ceiling of my office.

Now with the large crowds coming to our campaignsthroughout the Philippines, I seized the opportunity toinundate the nation with this deliverance literature. In away impossible to calculate, the printed page helpedprepare the hearts of the people of the Philippines forrevival. The thousands who read these magazines weremade hungry to see the miracle power of God demon-strated in their own city.

I was glad for the opportunity to minister the gospelin the crusades we were holding, and I thanked God forthe hundreds who were being ushered into the kingdomof God. At the same time, it was thrilling to watch theprogress of the local church I was building. Crowds hadgrown so that our old building could not begin to ac-commodate them. On January 25, 1954, we occupiedthe impressive new Bethel Temple in downtown Ma-nila. The building was debt free the day we moved in.Attendance soared and in the first few weeks that build-ing was also overflowing with as many as twenty-fourhundred in Sunday school.

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Yet, my heart was restless. We were barely scratch-ing the surface of the great masses that needed to bereached with the gospel. I wanted to do something re-ally meaningful for God.

I remembered that the mayor had asked if there wasanything he could do for me. There was something thathe could do, and I went to ask him.

I made an appointment to see Mayor Lacson, whowas now a good personal friend, and requested use ofthe famous Roxas Park for revival meetings. This parkis literally the very heart of the nation. Strategically situ-ated in front of city hall, one block from the congressbuildings on the south, and one block from the greatpost office building on the north, it is the best knownlocation in the Philippines. The mayor was true to hispromise. In less than one minute he granted me the useof the park for one month. For two years God had beenpreparing the way for this revival. This was zero hour.

With the mayor’s permission, we converted the fa-mous Sunken Gardens of Roxas Park into a great out-door cathedral. A speaker’s platform was erected, lightswere installed, and the park was staked out and ropedoff in sections to accommodate the anticipated crowds.God sent us an expert team of volunteers from BethelBible Institute, the Methodist church, and professionalpeople in the media, who were a tremendous help inpromoting the meetings.

Thousands of handbills were distributed. Daily newsreleases were published. Class-A air time was purchasedand paid for by Rev. David Candelaria and the Method-ist church of Taytay, for a daily broadcast on the mostpopular radio station in the nation. But our best adver-tising was the thousand or more people who had alreadybeen saved and healed that went with us to the city park

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meetings. Some of these people had the most amazingtestimonies of divine healing I had ever heard. Severalof them gave their testimonies publicly on the first night.News spread like wildfire that miracles were happeningin the Sunken Gardens, where a huge sign proclaimed:Christ Is The Answer.

The Lord sent us Rev. Clifton Erickson to ministerto these masses of people. They came from all over thePhilippines, representing every stratum of society. Theycame by airplane, by boat, by bus, by truck, by jeep, byhorse-drawn cart, and on foot.

By noon each day the people would begin to congre-gate in Roxas Park. By three o’clock, about a thousandpeople would be occupying the best seats in front of theplatform. By six, several thousand were waiting for theservice to begin. And when service got into full swingat eight o’clock, the park was a sea of faces, upward tothirty thousand and often more.

Although the more sensational ministry of deliver-ance no doubt helped draw the crowds to the meetings,the salvation of souls was our top priority. My consum-ing passion was to rescue souls from hell. Strong ap-peals were made to the sinner nightly. The response wassimply overwhelming.

In the afternoon services at the church, Rev. RobertMcAlister ministered and there were always from twohundred to six hundred who made decisions to followChrist. In the great open-air services each night therewere from five thousand to ten thousand who respondedto the appeal. Some nights toward the end of the revival,there were thousands more. I am almost afraid to esti-mate how many made decisions during the thirty days,but the total was staggering—possibly between one hun-dred fifty thousand and three hundred thousand souls.

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One night a thunderstorm interrupted the service, buthardly a person moved. The rain could not chase themaway. Many were prepared and the sea of faces becamea sea of brightly colored umbrellas. Despite the weatherit was a glorious service with hundreds claiming theirhealing and thousands making decisions for Christ.

Perhaps the most thrilling revival scene I have everwitnessed was on Sunday night, February 14th. At theconclusion of my sermon that night I asked for “menonly” to give their hearts to Christ. Thousands of menraised their hands.

I then spoke plainly to these men, explaining what itwould mean to become a real Christian. I talked aboutthe life of holiness and instructed them that this meantthey must stop drinking, going to movies, gambling atthe cock fights, etc. I told the men they would be ex-pected to change their life style and cultivate the habitsof prayer, Bible reading, and church attendance.

“Now,” I said, “if you desire this kind of life, cometo the front for a prayer of salvation.”

They came! Five thousand strong they came! To myjoyful amazement men crowded around the platform inthe large open space where the sick were normally prayedfor. It was, I believe, one of the greatest moments of myministry. I could see tears streaming down the faces ofscores of men standing in front of me. If they had lookedup, they could have seen that tears were running downmy face, too. I felt like I was about to be raptured. It wasthe first time such a scene had ever been witnessed inthe history of the Philippine nation.

As a result of that revival, Bethel Temple soon be-came the largest Protestant church in the Orient. Theenthusiasm of our people would be hard to imagine. Forinstance, one Sunday I announced that I would like to

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see who could bring the most to Sunday school the nextweek. One man brought three hundred. He rented threebig trucks, rounded the people up, and hauled them in.Soon we had ten thousand people registered in our Sun-day school with a weekly attendance of seven thousandto eight thousand. To make room for all the people, wehad Sunday school on Saturday afternoon and four ser-vices on Sunday. Church began at 7:00 A.M. and con-tinued until late Sunday evening. The great B-52 hangarwas packed to overflowing every service.

We added full-time pastors to our staff to minister tothose who spoke various languages. Services were heldin Ilocano and in Tagalog, each with their own pastor. Ipreached to the English congregation and to the Chi-nese with the aid of an interpreter.

The results of that great revival extended beyond thecapital city of Manila. Soon Bethel Temple became a“mother” church for a second church in Quezon City, athird in Niac, a fourth in Pasig, and a fifth in Caloocan.Branch Sunday schools, outstations, and preaching cen-ters followed. Hardly a village or city in the area did notfeel the impact of the great revival in Manila and the“Christ is the Answer” church.

When Oral Roberts was invited to Manila for a cru-sade in Roxas Park we took him to meet the president.As Oral started to pray, President Magsaysay looked atBrother Roberts and said, “In this country we havelearned that Christ is the answer.”

Crowds as high as twenty-five thousand attended theOral Roberts crusade. It was at first frustrating to Oralnot to be able to lay his hands personally on every indi-vidual of the great masses who came nightly for prayer.But on the final Sunday afternoon of the campaign, Oraldecided he must at least try to touch each one who

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desired prayer. He had the people form a double linethat extended for three city blocks. It took him four hoursto walk between the lines, laying his hands upon eachone as he ministered to them. Oh, how the people wereblessed!

The end of this great move of God was nowhere insight. I expected to remain in Manila for a very longtime. But God had other plans.

We in the western world have a difficult timecomprehending the oriental mind. The common peopleof the Philippines considered me almost as a god. In thechurch they were extremely devoted to my spiritual lead-ership over them. Many times people would fall on theirknees on the street and kiss my hands before I couldstop them. If I were standing in a line, as at the postoffice, people would recognize me and fall out of line toallow me to move ahead of them.

Possibly for this reason God began to deal with myheart about leaving the Philippines at the height of re-vival there. I knew that if I stayed the people would beinclined to worship me instead of God. I did not want toleave, but God spoke to me that another must now leadthese souls whom God had given me.

This was a very difficult thing for me to accept and Iprayed, “Lord, there must be further reason for you towant me to leave.”

There was another reason. Within the next two weeksI received a cable from America. It was sent by the pas-tor who had followed me to South Bend. The cable read,“I am leaving as of next Sunday. The people will haveno pastor. Do what you wish about it.” As I read thecable, tears came to my eyes. I knew what God wantedme to do.

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10Immediately after reading the cable that said the

congregation in South Bend would be left pastorless, Ibooked a flight to the United States. While my familyremained behind in Manila, I was at Calvary Temple inSouth Bend the following Sunday morning. I had cabledthe people that I was coming.

The minister who had followed me was already gone.Although I found the people somewhat discouraged, Ihave never been more warmly received anywhere than Iwas that morning. It was a highly emotional time withmuch rejoicing in the Lord. Without voting, the church re-ceived me back as their pastor by unanimous acclamation.

I soon learned that during the two-and-one-half yearsI had been in Manila, the South Bend congregation hadsunk deeply into debt. Attendance at the church had notgone down appreciably, but they were about thirty thou-sand dollars in arrears in current accounts. Things justhadn’t been managed very well. Their credit rating withutility companies, supply houses, etc., had been ruined.

That Sunday I began a two-week revival meeting atthe church. God blessed mightily and the place waspacked with people each evening. We raised several

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thousand dollars during those two weeks, enough thatthe financial situation at the church reversed itself. Istayed in South Bend for a total of six weeks gettingthings in order and then flew back to Manila, preparingthe church for my permanent departure.

When we first moved to the Philippines we had beena family of four. Now we were five. Our youngest son,Peter, was born in Manila on October 17, 1953. The Fili-pino people seemed to have a special love for Peter be-cause he was also “their” baby.

Moving back to America from the Philippines wasvery difficult. When people have such an honest andprimitive admiration for you, as the Filipinos did for ourfamily, it is a frightening thing. The display we witnessedat the Manila airport the day we left was enough to con-vince me that I did the right thing in leaving the greatchurch there to the ministry and leadershjp of anotherpastor.

Thousands were in the airport to see us off. As weboarded the plane people began to cry in an almost hys-terical way, and some fainted.

The captain of our international flight was so upsetby the scene that after the plane had taxied out to therunway, he turned it around and came back into the air-port. The captain came back to me and said, “Sir, I thinkyou had better go back out to those people. I can’t takethis plane off with all of them out there screaming foryou. I don’t know who you are, but those people want you.”

Louise and I disembarked. We walked up and downthe fence that separated the people from the runway, try-ing to console them. “We will be back every year,” wepromised, “and we will always be close to you in ourspirits. You have other fine pastors to watch over younow and you are going to be all right.”

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Publicly and privately we had tried to teach the peoplethat their great love was to be for the Lord Jesus. Weadmonished them that their security was completely inJesus Christ and that they were to follow Him ratherthan any human being. But these people, coming newlyto Christ, had a difficult time understanding.

When we moved to Manila we had gone with manytons of equipment, such as an organ, an icebox,kitchenware, and appliances. When we returned to theUnited States we carried only a suitcase. And that waswithin the forty-pound limit allowed for internationalair travel. We left to the incoming pastor our automo-bile, our home, our furniture, and even the pictures onthe wall. We had freely received these things as the bless-ing of God, and now we freely gave them to another.

Back in South Bend it almost seemed a dream thatwe had ever been away. The crowds surged, the workexpanded, and the blessing of God was phenomenal.Calvary Temple grew even larger than it was before weleft, and it continued to be the largest church of any de-scription in the entire South Bend area. The day school,the day nursery, the bookstore, and all our ministriescontinued to move forward.

During this time we, with other ministers, invitedOral Roberts for a crusade to be conducted in theNorthside Gymnasium in Elkhart. This crusade was agreat boost to us as well as all the churches of the area.

We remained as pastor of the church in South Bendfor several years. At the same time the congregationunderstood my calling and burden for world evangelism.They gave me freedom in traveling to minister in vari-ous parts of the world.

One spot I particularly enjoyed visiting was the newnation of Israel. So enthralled did I become with the

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prophecies being fulfilled in the Holy Land that I devel-oped an insatiable desire to understand fully the thingsthat God was doing there. Also, the Lord showed mefrom the eleventh chapter of Romans that I was to be ablessing to the people of Israel.

In August of 1956, I took a six months’ leave of ab-sence from my pastorate. Robert McAlister, who minis-tered with me in Manila at the Roxas Park crusade, cameto fill in for me while I was gone. During these monthsI lived with my family in the city of Jerusalem.

My wife was not too happy about going to Israel atfirst. She was frightened by the prophecies of war thatwould befall that nation in the last days. Half-teasing,she said that she could just see me being one of the twowitnesses slain in the streets of Jerusalem as foretold inthe Book of Revelation! However, when I assured herthat God was the one leading me to Israel she was readyand willing to go.

It was not just a vacation or a sightseeing tour. Wewent to Jerusalem to accomplish a task for God. Whilethere I served as the regular preacher in one of thechurches. A Jewish man was the pastor, but he didn’tlike to preach, so he asked me. On Sunday evenings Iheld “Prophecy Rallys” in the Jerusalem Y.M.C.A. build-ing. At other times we went all over the territory talkingto small groups and ministering.

As in the past, Louise proved to be a real asset to mein Israel. She quickly fell in love with the people, whoalso developed a special love for her. She was especiallyeffective in dealing with the Israelis she met on a per-son-to-person basis.

For example, we bought our meat at a kosher shop. Thebutcher would save the choice cuts for Louise. When shewas in the shop, he would wait until the rabbi was out of

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earshot and whisper, “How much bacon do you wanttoday, Mrs. Sumrall?” He kept the pork hidden underthe counter for her.

But it wasn’t always easy to witness to the Jew. WhenLouise tried to speak to her hairdresser about the love ofGod, he just glared at her. Pulling up his sleeve he re-vealed the ugly marks that had been inflicted on him ina Nazi concentration camp and snarled, “God is love? Isaw my own sisters thrown alive into the furnace. Andthen they tell us we are God’s chosen people. Humph!”

To souls such as this it was not a matter of tellingthem about the love of God. It was a matter of trying toconvince them that there was a God at all.

One night I had a home meeting in Tel Aviv, withabout fifty Jewish people present. My theme for a talkthat night was “altars.” Using the Bible, I began withAbel’s altar, going right through to Calvary’s altar. Istressed the blood—and especially the blood of Jesus.

When finished, one of the men present, a rabbi, spokeup. “Those are interesting fairy tales,” he said, “but whydid you waste your time and ours by telling us that?”

He had come expecting a lecture on psychology, orthe working of the mind. He wasn’t upset because I hadtalked about Jesus. His trouble was that he didn’t evenbelieve in the God of the Old Testament.

This rabbi went on to say,

“I used to laugh at my fathers for believing ourforefathers who wrote that tale about swimmingacross the Red Sea, and here you are talking out ofthe same book as if you believe it. I tell my chil-dren that those things are fairy tales. Our fathersdidn’t have anything better to do than to sit aroundthe fire and gossip. They made up those stories.”

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I looked at the rabbi in amazement and tried to rea-son with him. “Can’t you see that God brought the Jew-ish people from all over the world to make Israel a na-tion again, in fulfillment of prophecy?”

“God didn’t have anything to do with it,” he an-swered. “Nobody wanted us.”

We quickly learned that the real problem in evange-lizing the Jew was not to get him to accept Jesus, but toget him to believe in God.

After we had been in Israel for only a short time, wewent to Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee, for a preachingmission. The night after the service, we slept on the bot-tom floor of a little place that was just below groundlevel. All night long we heard the rumble of heavy trucksspeeding down the road just over us. I turned to my wifein the bed and said, “Honey, that’s not normal. Some-thing unusual is happening.”

We remembered that earlier in the afternoon we hadnoticed many of the young men of the city grabbing theircoats and running out of their homes and shops as ifthey were in a terrible hurry to get somewhere. We fearedthat they might be rushing off to war.

Everyone in the area had been expecting hostilities.The threat of war had dominated the radio news for sev-eral weeks. We could pick up broadcasts from Egypt,Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and other Arab countries, as wellas Israel. None of the newscasts sounded good.

The next morning it seemed to us that all the men ofthe city had evaporated. We went downtown to the bankand did not see a single man—only women.

I began to inquire, “Where are all the men?” In awhisper a teller behind the bank counter answered,“They’ve gone to war.”

I turned to my wife and said, “Honey, let’s go home.”

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As we drove back to Jerusalem we saw what seemedto be thousands of tanks. All of them were covered withcamouflage. All of them were on their way to meet theEgyptians. Israel had entered what became known asthe Sinai War. We lived through this nightmarish timeof blackouts and terror.

After I got Louise and the boys back to our apart-ment, I set out to see the war. To me it was exciting toknow that I was actually experiencing firsthand some ofthe fulfillment of latter-day prophecy. Looking back Isometimes wonder why I was not more afraid.

I applied for and received permission from the gov-ernment to travel through the battle zone. A military es-cort armed with machine guns rode in my car with meall the way down to the Suez Canal. When we ran lowof gas (there were no service stations open) we wouldjust stop a tank and siphon a few gallons of petrol to getus on down the road.

We saw the instruments of war captured from theEgyptians. Dead bodies were scattered along the roadand live bombs lay sprinkled over the desert.

I walked over to Mt. Zion to an Israeli machine gunnest with six or eight machine guns in a circle dug intothe side of the hill. I just walked right in, sat down withthe soldiers, and struck up a conversation. I picked upone of the machine guns, examined it, and asked, “Howdo you shoot one of these things?”

One of the soldiers readily demonstrated for me howthe gun worked. After a while another soldier asked, “Areyou an officer?”

“Well,” I hesitated, “I don’t think so.”“Then who the blazes are you?”“I am an American press correspondent.”The soldier advised, “You had better get out of here,

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buddy. You just might get yourself killed.”In fact, I was a correspondent. During this time I

wrote numerous magazine and newspaper articles aboutthe Israeli-Egyptian conflict in the light of Bible proph-ecy. I also published my own prophecy newsletter, anewsletter which was circulated around the world.

When the war began, the American consul stronglyadvised us to leave Israel immediately. They even of-fered to provide free transportation for all Americans toevacuate and were very upset when we refused to go.

On one day our three boys went to the British schoolthey attended with over three hundred classmates. Thefollowing day the Sumrall boys were the only studentspresent. Everyone else, including some of the teachers,had evacuated the country. Even the American ambas-sador was gone. Insofar as we knew, we were the onlyfamily of Americans left in Jerusalem.

To me it was no great decision to stay. God had sentme to Israel for these months and I could not see leavingthe people just because they were having a war. Any-way, it made no difference to me if I went to heavenfrom Israel or from the United States.

The Israelis seemed to be impressed and apprecia-tive of the fact that we did not run off and leave them.We became endeared to the hearts of these sad and em-battled people. It was not unusual for one to grab andhug us when we met them on the street.

By the end of March the war had ended, and so hadour six-months leave of absence. The time had come toresume our pastorate. We were reluctant to say “good-bye” to Israel, but anxious to get back to South Bend.

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11For the next two years God continued to bless our

ministry in South Bend, but I could never reconcile my-self to the fact that my work for God was to be confinedto this local congregation. God began to deal with myheart again about the plan He had given me some yearsearlier for evangelizing entire nations by building astrong indigenous church in the capital city.

The place that particularly bore on my heart was notexactly the capital of a nation in the normal sense. Itwas more of a city-state, the burgeoning British CrownColony of Hong Kong—threshold to China.

China had always been very near to my heart. As ateenage evangelist, shortly after the Lord had given methat vision of the nations of the world, I dreamed of be-ing somewhere in China. In the dream someone came tome in the night and said, “Come with me and pray for awoman.” I went to a humble little Chinese hovel andprayed for a woman who was instantly healed. It was asimple dream, but it had remained strong in my mindand had haunted me for all these years.

The year that Howard Carter and I had spent in Chinaon the first trip around the world had in many ways been

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the most thrilling year of my life. Now the doors to mis-sionary work in mainland China were closed. I had thefeeling that if a strong church were established in HongKong, it could become the launching point for a greatmissionary movement into China once the doors swungopen again. It would not only be a lighthouse to the fourmillion inhabitants of Hong Kong but the church wouldserve as a recruiting station to train Chinese youth whowould be prepared to gather the harvest on the mainlandwhen the time was ripe.

A.C. Valdez, the evangelist who held the first city-wide crusade for me in Manila, had recently been throughHong Kong. He had come to me saying he felt impressedto encourage me to go to this hub of the Orient and raiseup a work for God.

While pastoring in South Bend I had gone to HongKong with Gordon Lindsay for crusades and I saw thetremendous potential there. The heart of that great citywas virtually untouched with the full gospel message.Many of the higher class Chinese people of Hong Kongspoke English, having been educated in the Britishschools. Thousands of these business and professionalpeople were neither Buddhist nor Christian. They wereadherents to no religion at all. I saw this as a goldenopportunity for a gospel outreach.

After much fasting and prayer I definitely felt thatGod was directing me to this island metropolis to estab-lish a church. My wife’s heart, as mine, had always beenin missions. She was anxious to share this new ventureof faith with me.

In 1959 I resigned my pastorate in South Bend forthe second time. I did not feel that it was fair to imposeupon these good people by continuing to leave and comeback to them. I have never had any relationship with

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that particular congregation since that time. They havecontinued to be a strong growing church and a powerfullighthouse of the full gospel.

Before moving with my family to Hong Kong, I madeseveral visits to the city. There I contacted some keyChinese men and formed a committee to help in an evan-gelistic thrust in the colony. They were anxious to see awork established which would reach the total populaceof the city. We were also joined by half a dozen menfrom the Hong Kong chapter of Full Gospel BusinessMen’s Fellowship International. They were excited aboutwinning souls for the Lord Jesus.

On one of those visits to Hong Kong I took a team ofother ministers with me, including John Meares, Tho-mas Reid, Morris Cerullo, and Gordon Lindsay. Werented a football stadium and held a successful crusade.Up to five thousand people attended the meetings eachnight. At the conclusion of that effort we baptized thepeople who had given their hearts to the Lord. Therewere sixty-nine of them. These became the charter mem-bers of our church.

Land is almost impossible to buy in Hong Kong. InManila, a World War II bomb had cleared the site forour church. But in crowded Hong Kong there was sim-ply no property available. If a lot could have been foundlarge enough to put a church on, it would have cost amillion dollars or more.

We bought the entire fourth floor of a tall office build-ing. That floor alone cost us 250,000 Hong Kong dol-lars (about $50,000 in American money). It was a newbuilding located downtown by the post office and righton the waterfront. In the same building, the Communistparty occupied the seventh floor, the Roman Catholicshad the third floor, and many other organizations and

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businesses, such as Minolta Cameras and the ChungKhiaw Bank, shared the remainder of the building. Weconverted our floor into an auditorium that would seatabout three hundred people and named it “New LifeTemple.”

By the time Louise and the boys moved with me thechurch was already organized with a good nucleus ofpeople. Our home was a lovely little apartment on theside of Victoria Peak on Hong Kong Island.

Our congregation in Hong Kong was made up mostlyof people who fled out of the southern part of Chinawhen the Communists took over their land. Over halfthe people in Hong Kong were refugees. People wereconstantly trying to come into Hong Kong from the Chi-nese mainland. Barbed wire fences were erected to keepthem out and police patrolled the beaches. Yet, scores ofrefugees continued to pour in, many of them swimmingfrom the Kwangtung coast of southern China.

It was a very sad place to minister because of thepoverty, families separated from ones left behind on themainland, and the high incidence of suicide. We had achurch of people who knew what sorrow was. They knewwhat it meant to be persecuted, abused, and deprived.They held their freedom dearly.

We enjoyed several victorious revival crusades inHong Kong and God performed many miracles in ourmidst. One was with Rev. Clifton Erickson—an outstand-ing healing of a lady who had come into our church outof Buddhism. She had a huge ugly goiter that hung downlike a grapefruit in front of her neck. For years she hadbeen unable to button the collar of her Chinese-style dressbecause of this deforming growth. When she was prayedfor this lady didn’t notice that anything special happened.But the next night she returned and testified of being

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healed. The goiter had dried up and only a loose bag ofskin remained. That too tightened up in a few weeks.

As a result of her conversion and healing, this ladywon her entire family to Jesus Christ. Her son was abrilliant young man who later felt the call of God on hislife to enter the ministry. He saved his money and cameto the United States to attend Gordon Seminary in Boston.

The attitude of the Chinese Christians towarddenominationalism was refreshing. For example, it wasnot unusual to find those who attended Episcopalianservices on Sunday morning and a Pentecostal churchon Sunday night. They, no doubt, had been baptized inboth churches—just to be sure they were right.

If you asked them why they attended two differentchurches, their candid answer was: “In the morning I goto the Episcopalian church to get peace, because theyare so quiet. In the evening I go to the Pentecostal churchto get joy so my heart will be glad.”

These Chinese saw nothing strange about attending“high” and “low” churches. They refuse to have the sameill feelings between denominations as do many Chris-tians in America. There was also a closer unity amongthe clergy of different Christian denominations. Perhapsit was because they needed one another more.

In many instances, the various denominations actu-ally reach different strata of society. Usually when achurch began with poor people, it would still be madeup of the same a generation later. But if a church beganwith a stable, middle-class people, it is doubtful that itwould ever reach the poorer classes. The poverty strickengenerally prefer the fellowship of those on their ownlevel. How beautiful it was to see denominations actu-ally supplementing the ministry of one another, ratherthan engaging in battle against each other.

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God helped us at New Life Temple to do that whichwas unusual for Hong Kong. Our church was able toreach all classes of people—but not all at once. You justcan’t go in and break down deeply ingrained culturaltraditions. And that wasn’t our task. Our goal was towin men to Christ, even if we had to reach differentclasses of people by holding different services for themat different times. It worked out that we had three totallydistinct congregations who worshiped at New LifeTemple. It was never planned that way. There was noway we could have planned it. But God miraculouslyhelped us to simultaneously reach all classes of people,instead of being confined to one group as are mostchurches in Hong Kong.

Those who attended on Sunday mornings were nodoubt the wealthiest group of people I ever served aspastor. Among our members were many very prosper-ous and highly educated business and professionalpeople, factory owners, doctors, etc. The services forthese people were mostly in English. At other times Iused an interpreter and the meetings were bilingual.

On Sunday night the people regarded as the peasantclass came to our services. These included destitute refu-gees, servant people, etc.

On Friday night we had a congregation made uplargely of small business people such as shopkeepersand fishermen. These included the “boat people”—thosewho lived in their Chinese junks that were moored inthe harbor.

One of the affluent men who came to our Sundaymorning services owned a large factory where he manu-factured batteries for the Eveready company. He livedwith his wife and five beautiful daughters in one of themost gorgeous homes in Hong Kong. This elite family

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came to church faithfully every Sunday morning, but tonone of our other services.

After they had been attending our church for sometime I suggested to the man, “We would also like to seeyou bring your family to services on Sunday night.”

The man replied, “You mean I need to come Sundaynight again? You mean I have to get all these girls dressedup and pay the fare across on the ferry twice in one day?”As sincere as he could be, he asked, “Where in the Bibledoes it tell you to go to church twice on Sunday? If you’vegot more to tell us, then keep us an extra hour on Sun-day morning.”

Once or twice he visited our Sunday night services,but I didn’t make an issue of insisting that he come. Irealized that my responsibility was not to instill Ameri-can customs into the Chinese people. I was only to shareJesus Christ with them. And if that meant having differ-ent services, at different times, for different classes ofpeople, then I was the one who needed to adjust and notthem.

Our water baptismal services were particularly beau-tiful in Hong Kong. We tried having one baptismal ser-vice at a swimming pool at one of the clubs in town. Butmy favorite site for many baptisms was one of the fa-mous beaches reached by ferry from Hong Kong. A longflight of stairs led from the road where our buses parkeddown to the beach.

One of our converts, Brother Aw-Young, was abusinessman who had been healed of a stroke. This manexported shark fins all over the world and had offices inHong Kong and in San Francisco. Although healed, hehad not regained all of his strength. So determined wasBrother Aw-Young to be baptized that he had his ser-vant take him out to the beach every day for three weeks

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to practice going up and down those stairs. It was beau-tiful as the congregation rejoiced with him on his bap-tismal day.

The young man who kept our church in Hong Kongwas named Aming. He had slipped across the border asa refugee and had no relatives in the city. For weeksAming slept in doorways and lived on the streets of HongKong, until one day he was invited into the church byone of our ladies. He became our janitor and was sovery happy to live there in New Life Temple. We learnedto love him so much. I gave him his first shoes and hisfirst coat.

Aming developed a real interest in spiritual things,and his life was completely transformed by the gospel.He went to school at night and qualified for a job in abank. Today he is a certified public accountant, a re-spected citizen of Hong Kong and still a faithful fol-lower of Jesus Christ.

New Life Temple never approximated Bethel Templein Manila, but it became a very strong evangelistic cen-ter, which it remains to this day. New Life Temple alsobecame the mother church to a second congregation inthe British Crown Colony.

We had an extensive literature ministry in HongKong. We printed more than one million books, tracts,and pamphlets in the Chinese language each year. Thesewere not only distributed in Hong Kong, they were sentto every place where there were Chinese-speakingpeople—Singapore, Indonesia, the Philippines, Taiwan,and Malaysia.

Hong Kong was only an hour and a half from Ma-nila, by air. This gave me the opportunity to keep in closecontact with the work there. I traveled back and forthoften, establishing new churches in the Philippines. The

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buildings were built on the same pattern as BethelTemple. The mother church was built out of a B-52 han-gar, the others from military Quonset huts. They made avery beautiful tropical building, especially when an ar-chitect designed the front. They would seat three hun-dred to four hundred people.

We also found time in our rigorous schedule to con-duct several revival meetings throughout the Orient. Wewent to Malaysia, Java, Singapore, and Bangkok, Thai-land for these crusades.

After spending more than two years in Hong Kong,the church was firmly established in truth and in Christ.I felt it would be a waste of time for me to just stay thereand supervise things. God had called me to do pioneerwork. I found a fine minister, Rev. William Thornton,who felt the call to the Chinese people and to Hong Kong,and I left New Life Temple in his care. The church prop-erty had been in the name of the congregation from thebeginning. As in Manila, we gave the new minister ourcar, our apartment, our furniture, and the things that hadtaken us over two years to accumulate.

I was now forty-six years old, but it seemed I hadalready lived six lifetimes. For all of these years I hadbeen a pilgrim, never holding the things of this life toodear. My suitcase was packed. I was ready to followwherever God’s Spirit would lead me next.

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12From Hong Kong my family moved back to South

Bend, Indiana, and established headquarters. We orga-nized and incorporated the Lester Sumrall EvangelisticAssociation (LeSEA) which became the base for world-wide missionary work. Our outreaches included crusadeevangelism, radio, the publishing of World Harvestmagazine, and many other avenues of ministry. Our con-suming purpose was the establishing of evangelistic cen-ters in strategic capital cities of the world from which topenetrate the entire nation.

One of the cities in which we sought to do this wasBrasilia, the progressive, futuristic new capital of Bra-zil. Clearly, it is the most modern capital of the twenti-eth century.

They call it the “City of Hope,” a glistening jewelseven hundred miles into the interior of Brazil’s vastterritory. Planted like an island of modernity in the heartof the world’s largest unbroken jungle, it rises like a sci-ence fiction dream city from the scantily explored terri-tory inhabited by Indians as primitive as Stone Age men.

Brasilia is a perfect example of the strange contraststhat mark the world’s fifth largest nation, the eighth

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most populous country on earth. My heart was particu-larly drawn to this Latin American giant. Brazil is a coun-try of fabulous wealth, bursting with promise not yetfulfilled. Experts say Brazil is the only South Americancountry capable of becoming a great world power, yetmultitudes of its people live in poverty to the point ofstarvation.

Brazil has been steeped in a religious tradition forgenerations, with 95 percent of the people calling them-selves Catholic. Yet, nearly half of her eighty millionpeople are bound to some degree by the satanic bond-age of spiritism, a devilish system brought over by Afri-can slaves and mixed up with Indian animism.

I was still in Hong Kong when I first began to feel astrange leading to go to Brazil’s fabulous new capital.At the same time, unknown to me, God was dealing withthe heart of a veteran missionary, Virgil Smith, in Santos,Brazil. He too felt led to Brasilia.

Virgil Smith had first gone to this South Americannation in 1927 as a representative of the Church of Christ.But he was hungry to have the same power as the menof the first New Testament church, and he sought Godfor a deeper experience. Months after he began his Bra-zilian ministry, he went out into the woods to pray andreceived a glorious infilling of the Holy Spirit. This be-gan a career in pioneer missions, raising up churchesand establishing congregations, and helping build per-manent places of worship for these new Christians.

God brought Virgil Smith and I together in Brasilia.With some other men of God, we began to see miraclestake place as we secured lots downtown on which tobuild.

I never did actually move with my family to Brasilia,as I had to Jerusalem, Manila, and Hong Kong. Instead,

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we maintained our home and headquarters in SouthBend, Indiana, and made several trips to Brazil for twoto six weeks at a time.

On one of those first trips to Brasilia, we conducteda successful tent and open-air crusade. We were delightedto find the city ripe for evangelism. Many of the peoplewho attended our crusade services had been involved inspiritism and Satanism. They were eager to hear a newgospel, a message of power and deliverance. This wasdemonstrated forcefully when every night up to 95 per-cent of the sinners present in the audience responded tothe appeal to accept Christ as their Savior.

I went to see government officials about securingselect property in the new capital for a church. It was tobe the first Full Gospel church in the city. I was success-ful in obtaining three acres of choice land—a full cityblock—in an ideal location. The services of a brilliantBrazilian architect were secured to draw plans for thenew center, and construction was begun.

Our first building was a school, with a large audito-rium. While this building was being erected, we movedthe revival tent to the property where it served as ourchurch sanctuary for fifteen months. About the time theschool auditorium in our evangelistic center was beingcompleted, a fierce storm struck Brasilia. Hurricane forcewinds ripped the big canvas cathedral to pieces, level-ing it to the ground. Fortunately, we were soon able tomove into the school auditorium.

Another outstanding missionary, Norman Anderson,helped with the building and establishment of the newchurch and school. Then, a few years later, Virgil Smithwas able to leave his own center of ministry in the stateof Sao Paulo, and came to work with our Brasilia center.

A second evangelistic center was established in one

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of the suburban centers near Brasilia, in the satellite cityof Taguatinga. Here a new church was built, one thatwould seat approximately four hundred.

While we were busily involved in establishing thenew work in Brasilia, as well as crusade and literatureevangelism and missionary endeavors in other parts ofthe world, the devil reared his ugly head in Manila. Themove of God there had so shaken his kingdom that itwas inevitable he would strike back with everything inhis power. Satan seemed determined to neutralize andto destroy the testimony built up by the revival fires whichhad swept the Philippines.

Knowing that attack and persecution from the out-side would only strengthen the church, the devil em-ployed the strategy he has found so effective throughthe centuries—trouble and division within the church.

In 1962, satanically inspired confusion and chaosdeveloped in the Manila congregation. In all my experi-ence in many countries, I had never witnessed anythingas heartbreaking as this, especially since I was the fa-ther of the work. The foundation of the nationwide tes-timony was threatened by Christians quarreling and fight-ing among themselves, instead of presenting a unitedwitness to the world. This agitated my soul beyond de-scription.

The battle began among the very ones who shouldhave prevented it—the ministers. It came to a hopelessdeadlock and division between the missionaries and thecongregation. Things became so bad that the residentmissionary was asked to leave the pulpit and return toAmerica.

Other missionaries took sides in the dispute. One evenposted a large sign on the front of the church forbiddingpeople to worship in a house of prayer that had been

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dedicated to God. For a period of two months, guardswere posted at the entrance to the church. Their verypresence served to discourage people from attending.As unchristian as it may seem, there were several casespending in court on both sides.

I felt impelled of God to return to Manila to see if Icould find some means of bringing peace out of a seem-ingly impossible situation. I loved and had very closeassociation with both factions. I realized that both sideswere sincere in believing that they were right, and yetboth were being used of Satan to destroy the work ofGod.

I negotiated with all parties concerned for severaldays without success. I met with them the last time andtold them—all of them—that if they had been the fatherof the work as I was, and if they loved the work as I did,there would be no fighting.

Later two of the brethren met and decided the onlysolution to which both sides would agree would be forme to accept again the spiritual leadership of BethelTemple. It was not at all my intention to resume the pas-torate of the church in Manila. I was fully occupied withmany projects around the world. However, in order tosave one of the greatest revivals of this generation, Iagreed to return. The missionaries unanimously acceptedme on the field; the members of Bethel Temple votedunanimously for me to return. After praying diligently,together with my wife and three sons, I felt impressedof God to take up the challenge again where I had leftoff some years before.

God marvelously helped us to bind up the wounds atBethel Temple. Within weeks, old animosities began todisappear. Ill feelings and misunderstandings were for-gotten as God rebaptized the church in a spirit of revival.

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I recognized Manila as a formidable bastion of spiri-tual strength from which to evangelize all of Asia. ThePhilippines is the only Christian nation in the Orient. Iforesaw that if increasing hatred of the white man con-tinued, it was likely that Filipino Christians would be-come the missionaries of the future.

The orient is a place of over one billion souls, andManila is strategically located in the center of this vastpopulation. In an hour-and-a-half, one could be in Ja-pan, Korea, or Indonesia. In the approximately eighteenmonths we stayed in Manila this time, I used it as a basefrom which we bombarded the Far East with tons offull-gospel literature, as well as preaching the gospel incrusades and by radio.

I had all intentions of remaining in Manila and usingthat city as the headquarters for my ministry, when Goddramatically showed me that I had accomplished my taskand the time had come once again to depart.

I received a letter from President Marcos of the Phil-ippines inviting me to sit in congress as his guest for thestate of the union address. On one side of me in the con-gress hall sat the archbishop of the Roman Catholicchurch and on the other sat the American ambassador. Ienjoyed the ceremony and the address and was gratefulfor the opportunity to attend.

When the congress was dismissed and we departedthe building, we were greeted by a mob of maybe twenty-five thousand angry demonstrators. They were chantingand waving signs saying, “Go Home White Monkeys!”;“America Is Imperialistic!”; etc.

I walked out among that crowd of Communist-in-spired demonstrators and made my way back to mychurch, which was only two blocks away. I was upset.As I entered my office, pondering in my mind the things

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I had seen and heard, I began to weep.In the years I had ministered in the Philippines I had

refused to let anyone think I was anything but a Fili-pino. I absorbed their thinking. I tried to look, dress,talk, and act like one of them. When Jesus, the Son ofGod, came to earth, He referred to Himself as the Son ofman. Why? Because he came to identify Himself withyou and me. I had tried to follow this example of Jesusin every place I had lived.

When I was in Hong Kong, I was no longer a Fili-pino; I was Chinese. I once told my church in HongKong, “If you ever call me a foreigner, I’ll leave thenext morning. I’m more Chinese than you are. You’reone by accident of birth, and I am one on purpose.”

Yet I could not change the color of my skin or theslant of my eyes. I could not erase my heritage. I was anAmerican. Even though my church in Manila loved me,Americans in general were becoming increasingly un-popular in the Philippines. It hurt to think that many lostsouls who needed the gospel would not even give me ahearing because of their hatred for my homeland.

God spoke to me at that moment. “America is inworse shape than even this country. You should go homeand minister to those people permanently.”

That evening I broke the news to my wife, tellingher what the Lord had told me. In a few weeks we foundRev. Dan Morocco and family to replace us as pastors ofthe church. We made our last move back to the United States.

Our nation was in worse condition than the Philip-pines. Surely, the mid-1960s was one of the darker hoursin our national history. Unrestrained madness was erupt-ing with a fury on university campuses across the land.Violence was rampant at political rallies and conventions—as in Chicago. The drug culture was rapidly becoming a

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fact of life in every town and hamlet, no longer con-fined to the big cities alone. Almost overnight the sexualrevolution had become a scourge that was destroyingthe land. The “beatnik” of the fifties had evolved intothe “hippie” of the sixties. It was a new generation ofyoung Americans whose lifestyle was wrought with sin,sickness, and filth.

It was with a sense of divine destiny that we returnedto our home in South Bend. We knew that we wouldcontinue to travel around the world in pursuit of souls,but for the rest of our lives our base of operations wouldbe America, my own native land.

I wrote these words, words that seemed to sum upmy feelings upon our return. They appeared on the frontcover of the September 1965 issue of World Harvestmagazine:

The Cry of a Native Son

America, I love you.I am a son of your native soil.I am most at home in your big cities.I have drunk deeply of your freedoms.I have enjoyed your abundance.But, America, can you not see the “handwritingon the wall?”Your enemies are deadly within and without.You have poisonous vipers posing as yourFriends.They are ready for a fatal thrust.America, you bear the hatred of many lands.I have heard you cursed in foreign tongues.I have seen you misunderstood by men andnations.

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You are unloved and unwanted in a world ofperil and need.America, worst of all you are sick inside.I see your newsstands filled with pornographicreading.I see your clothes styled by sex deviates.I see your lust for pleasure like a Romandelight.America, I see you worshiping the goldencalf of material greed.You need Christ. . .NOW.You need His love, His delivering power.America, it may not be too late for you tofind God now.God save America—land that I love.

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13It was 10:30 on a Saturday morning in South Bend,

Indiana, that God spoke to me. “In Jerusalem I will showyou what I want you to do for me.”

This was startling! Jerusalem was at least six thou-sand miles away. I almost wanted to ask, “Why Jerusa-lem?” But without asking, I remembered that through-out history God had often spoken to men in Jerusalem—the Holy City.

A short time later I was in Jerusalem on one of themany visits I have made to Israel. Awakening early oneday, I walked briskly from my hotel room in the crispmorning air. I made my way to a craggy rock overhang-ing the valley of Hinnom, near the barbed wire borderthat divided Israel from Jordan. It would be sunrise infifteen minutes. Already the skies were lighting up withmagnificent hues of red and purple and gold over thehills of Moab.

I looked tenderly to my left toward Zion’s Hill andthe ancient walls of old Jerusalem. Directly before me,at the peak of Zion’s Hill, was the Upper Room, wherethe Last Supper was held, and to which the apostles hadreturned seven weeks later to be endued with the power

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of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. I could see the road toBethlehem and the Jaffa Gate, a gate that was no longerin use (before the war of 1967).

To my right was the famed Wailing Wall. In the dis-tance rose the beautiful Mount of Olives and the Gar-den of Gethsemane where our Master wept over Jerusa-lem, and from whence He ascended to heaven, leaving apromise to return.

I had been here on numerous occasions before. Thiswas my most treasured place to pray. Often from thisspot I had watched the sun rise over Jerusalem. I hadstood many times transfixed as columns of light marchedthrough the narrow streets of the ancient Holy City.

I was in deep prayer and meditation. Just as the bril-liant sun was beginning to crest over the horizon, bring-ing light and heat for the day, God spoke to my soul,“You are responsible to take one million souls to heaven.”

The Lord made it clear to me that He did not mean amillion hands raised or a million decisions, but a mil-lion souls landed safely in the arms of Jesus.

Staggered at the awesome task, I asked, “Lord, it isimpossible. How can this be?”

Before me I could see a lone man plowing a furrowwith one small camel. The furrow was neither wide nordeep. The Lord said,

“When a man plows alone, like the Arab farmerwith a wooden plow behind a camel, he does notaccomplish much. He digs only a few inches deepinto the soil and moves so slowly that in the eveninghe can see where he started in the morning. But ifyou plow like the Israeli farmer, with a tractor pierc-ing deeply into the soil and many furrows wide,you can bring a million souls to heaven.”

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God showed me that plowing deep is my personalrelationship with Him. Plowing wide is my working withothers of the same spirit. I must recruit others to help mein the harvest. Only with strong hands clasped togethercan this victory be won.

The Lord showed me many things that morning. Herevealed to me how I was to utilize the mass media asnever before, placing the gospel message on film and inprint. Since I could be in only one place at one time,these tools would be the means by which I could multi-ply my ministry. God’s truth of divine deliverance wouldbe sent out to places where I could never go.

I was so thrilled with this new word from the Lord,but I hardly knew where to begin. My being was almosttransfixed as the hot Mediterranean sun rose high abovethe hills of Moab in all its life-giving splendor. As Iwalked the few blocks back to my hotel room, I felt apower that only the great Creator could have put withinme. Suddenly I knew God’s time had come to set morepeople free than ever before. It was God’s hour to de-feat the forces of hell. My course was set before me andI must run as I had never run before.

As I returned home to South Bend after hearing soforcefully from God in Jerusalem, my mind was a whirl.There was so much that God had laid upon my heart todo. I must produce deliverance films that would portraythe power of God over the devil. I must increase thepublication and circulation of full gospel literature. I mustproclaim the gospel by means of radio and television. Imust establish a school for the training of young minis-ters to go into the harvest field. I must continue and in-crease missionary and child care support around theworld. I must accept the ultimate challenge of pioneer-ing Christian television as the ultimate great alternative

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to the sadistic sex-exploited amusement of modern TV.Back in America, I soon discovered that I needed a

group to pray with me and for me. I needed a stronghome base from which to operate in order to be effec-tive. Without that I was limited in many ways. I receiveda kind offer from Denver, Colorado. One man tried togive me a building if I would move my magazine andmissionary headquarters there. I had other offers fromcities from California to New York, saying please comeand build a work here. But after praying about these Isomehow could never feel the assurance that God wantedme to accept them.

One day a petition was handed to me with sixty-ninesignatures on it requesting that I start a church of divinedeliverance and power in South Bend. This group waswithout a church home and was meeting in the base-ment of the home of Ernest Eastburn. They had invitedme to lead their Bible study on several occasions beforewhen I had been in town. I did not know what to do. Ithad been a number of years since I had pastored in SouthBend. The world had gone through many changes.

To be truthful, my attitude toward South Bend wassomewhat like Nathanael’s attitude had been toward thesleepy mountain village of Nazareth. He asked, “Canthere any good thing come out of Nazareth?”

South Bend, Indiana, has its similarities withNazareth. It is a midwestern town, between the GreatLakes, with Lake Michigan on its west and Lake Ontarioon its east. The Peninsula of Michigan is above it, andthe plains and farmlands of Indiana below it.

In our generation, South Bend has not been a rapidlygrowing or developing city. People in other areas getthe name mixed up with North Bend, East Bend, or justplain Bend. Those from great metropolitan areas often

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make curt remarks about it. One of my friends called thecity, “A spur off Chicago.” Not many people would thinkanything of much value could spring from South Bend.Yet I knew that the very breath of two national spiritualmovements came from this city.

It was in the city of South Bend that a group of Spirit-filled Swedish Baptists were having a prayer meeting ina home in about 1910 or 1911. The Lord spoke to thislittle group and said, “Go to Para.”

These saints of God did not know where Para was sothey looked in an atlas and found that it was a state in north-ern Brazil. Two of those praying were Mr. Gunnar Vingrenand Mr. Daniel Berg. They said, “We feel led to go to Para.”

This faithful group of believers did not even have achurch building of their own. Yet, the same night an of-fering was taken for these men to travel to Brazil as mis-sionaries. They began their full gospel crusade in thecity of Belem, Para. Since then the revival has spreadthroughout the nation of Brazil under various names.Formerly it was led mostly by Swedish missionaries, buttoday it is led mostly by Brazilians. It is by far the larg-est Protestant movement in the nation. Many of theirchurches in the cities of Brazil number four thousand tofive thousand members. It is remarkable to me that thisgreat thrust of God had its origin in South Bend, Indiana.

The second national spiritual movement I told of inan earlier chapter. That revival began the afternoon Godspoke to me in South Bend and said, “Will you go toManila for me?” I responded to that call and until thismoment there is a move of God in the Philippines as hasnever been before.

The remarkable thing is that it began in a place wheremany would say “…can any good thing come out ofSouth Bend?”

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Although I am very conscious of these things, I stillwas not sure I wanted to establish another church there.I delayed for some months before answering the call.

One of the ladies who had signed the petition, Vir-ginia Kaelber, came to me one day and said, “BrotherSumrall, God spoke to me last night and said if you didnot obey Him and open a church in this city that Hewould send someone else to do it, and that you would bejealous of the great work he would do.”

As I had known this Christian woman for many years,I took her counsel very seriously. But still I could notcome to a point of decision.

Later I was conducting missionary rallies in the stateof Illinois. Early one morning in my motel room inWaukegan, I was having a time of communion with theLord. God was dealing with me concerning building achurch and international offices for our world ministriesin South Bend.

I protested, “But my former church is there.”God replied, “They shall both be great unto me.”Then I remonstrated, “But the world is my parish

and not a city.”The Lord very tenderly said, “Read Jeremiah 33:9.”

I opened the Bible quickly to see what message Godhad for me:

“And it shall be to me a name of joy, a praiseand an honour before all the nations of the earth,which shall hear all the good that I do unto them:and they shall fear and tremble for all the good-ness and for all the prosperity that I procure unto it.”

I began to weep. This seemed too much. Surely, Godwanted me to establish the church and through it Hewould do a great work that would be a praise and an honor.

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An hour later I wiped the tears from my eyes andwent into the adjoining motel room where C.C. Fordand James Murphy were staying. As I read to them whatGod had said, the Spirit of God came upon them as aconfirmation of His word. We all rejoiced in the Lordtogether.

I could see in this word from the Lord the ultimatefulfillment of the vision He had given to me as a youngevangelist—the vision of reaching the entire world withthe gospel. My ministry was not to be confined to SouthBend. But from that base all the nations of the worldwould hear the gospel.

At the time that seemed an exaggeration to me. I didnot see how it could be done. I could not clearly foreseethe emergence of Christian television and satellitecommunications. But that was God’s problem, not mine.He had made His will known to me. It was my duty tosimply obey and leave the results to Him. We organizedthe church and named it Bethel Temple after the churchin Manila, later changing the name to Christian CenterCathedral of Praise.

I do not believe I have ever done anything for Godthat has been more fervently fought by the devil and bypeople as was the building of this church. And possiblyit was because of the very fact that God wanted it to bea praise and an honor before all the nations of the earth.The devil does not take things like that lying down. Yetit seems that every roadblock Satan placed in our pathserved only to give God another opportunity to demon-strate His miracle-working power. Whether it was thehand of God or coincidence is not for me to say, but sixof the people who opposed us most vehemently came toan untimely death.

To begin our church we rented the facilities of the

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Progress Club, a ladies club downtown. The custodiansof the club weren’t very cooperative. They would notopen the doors but would leave our people standing out-side in all kinds of weather until 10:00 A.M. sharp, whenour services were to begin. We were allowed to use thepiano for our services, but our rent did not include useof the organ.

For many years my home had been located on a ten-acre piece of ground on East Ireland Road. When I firstpurchased this property it had been located out in thecountry. Over the years the city of South Bend had ex-panded southward until now East Ireland Road was oneof the most heavily traveled thoroughfares of the city.This was a prime location for our church, and my familyand I willingly gave them the ten acres free of chargefor that purpose.

Construction of the sanctuary and office complexbegan immediately. We bought three large metal build-ings and put them together in a tasteful and beautifultriad. The addition of stone and glass made the edificeboth beautiful and functional. The larger section was aprayer sanctuary. The left wing contained our offices andthe right wing, educational facilities. The building hadmore than twenty-six thousand square feet on one level.We constructed the complex for $318,000, only a frac-tion of the million dollars it would cost to build a nor-mal church of the same dimensions. To my knowledgethis was the first metal church building to be erected inthe United States. Since that time hundreds of othershave gone up, many of them using our plans.

During construction I constantly reminded my grow-ing staff that we were not just erecting a building—wewere building a tool. I do not believe in building monu-ments to personal vanity or temples to human triumph.

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Our center is simply an instrument for world deliverance.We officially dedicated the spacious and efficiently

designed new facilities on Easter Sunday, 1967. An im-pressive and varied congregation from many cities inthe Michiana area and many other states gathered forthe event. Among our honored guests were my brothers,Ernest and Houston, and my brother-in-law, JamesMurphy. These three men have been Full Gospel minis-ters for many years.

When we began construction of the headquarters fa-cilities, we did so by faith, with no funds. The way themoney came in day by day was one long series ofmiracles. It came from South Bend and from all overthe world. The New Life Temple Church in Hong Konggave $10,000. Friends of mine gave sacrificially. All themiracles that God wrought for us in this undertaking Ihope to share in a later volume.

God has been true to His promise. In the years sincethe construction and establishing of our headquarters inSouth Bend, our ministry has truly been “a name of joy,a praise and an honour before all the nations of the earth.”

The souls that we had won for Christ in all our pre-vious years of ministry had just been a warm-up for whatlay ahead. God had been training me in His school offaith. Now I was ready to put that faith to the test. Amillion lost souls were waiting for me to respond to thechallenge.

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14PLEASE NOTE: This chapter describes ministry ac-

tivity at the time that Dr. Lester Sumrall wrote Run withthe Vision.” Since then, LeSEA has continued to grow.We have added a section called “The Vision Continues”that updates what is happening through the manyministires of LeSEA today.

The multifaceted ministry that God has given toLeSEA (Lester Sumrall Evangelistic Association) is farbeyond anything I could have ever dreamed. Our staffhas grown in the last fifty years until we now have ateam of over one hundred and fifty dedicated and highlyskilled workers. When these words are printed our staffwill have grown even more. Day by day the fulfillmentof our vision is unfolding before us, and God is supply-ing laborers to help bring in God’s final harvest. We aredragging in the nets with a million souls through thevaried ministries God has given us:

LiteratureThe printed page was the first of the mass media.

Until it was born, man communicated only by the spoken

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word. The world would not be evangelized today if itwere not for the Bible. Many millions would not be savedif it were not for Christian books, tracts, etc.

While I was living in Hong Kong, bringing into be-ing the New Life Temple Church, God spoke to me andsaid, “The masses can be reached effectively throughliterature.” I had just finished printing three millionpieces of gospel literature in Chinese. I had seen myentire church congregation meet one day a week and gothrough the streets and large tenement houses of HongKong distributing this literature from door-to-door andperson-to-person. We had felt its impact. We had seenits ministry.

An American pastor visiting Hong Kong at this time,between the airport and his hotel, was twice asked if hewere a Christian and if he would accept gospel litera-ture. This pastor, a personal friend of mine, was amazedthat within his first hour in Hong Kong two people fromour church witnessed to him about Jesus Christ.

When the world Olympics were held in Mexico City,I printed one million booklets in English, Spanish, andFrench. The message of this booklet was from the di-vinely inspired words of the Apostle Paul concerningstriving for the goal and winning the crown. The mes-sage pointed to man’s ultimate goal—eternal life throughJesus Christ.

Scores of churches in Mexico City cooperated withus by supplying workers to give these booklets out tothe people. The impact of this effort was tremendous.We hired stenographers for several months after theOlympics just to answer the mail response of those whoaccepted Christ after reading the gospel message.

I have written more than one hundred books andbooklets. Hundreds of thousands of these have been sold

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or given away and many of them have been translatedinto the various languages of Europe, Africa, India, LatinAmerica, and other parts of the world. In South Bendour presses constantly print teaching manuals, tracts, andpamphlets.

World Harvest Films and VideotapesIt was that fateful morning on the rocky point, view-

ing the sunrise over the Judean landscape, when the Lordshowed me that in the future there will be many mil-lions of depressed and possessed humans who will needto know that God will and does deliver from satanicforces. The Lord directed me to produce documentaryand dramatic gospel films featuring divine deliverance.We now have six such films in three languages circu-lated in over fifty nations of the world. Non-promotionalin nature, these films demonstrate the power of God toset humanity free.

When my son, Frank, and his wife, Carol, were min-istering in Indonesia, they visited a very large meeting,and to their surprise one of my films was being shown.After the film was ended and an invitation was given,over five hundred people came to Christ that night.

We produce teaching series on many subjects. Theyare shown regularly on television and recorded on vid-eotape for use in our Bible college and video schoolsaround the country. God has given us excellent repro-duction equipment for our mushrooming cassette min-istry. The impact of these recorded messages is startlingas hundreds write in to say how a certain tape has beensuch a blessing to them.

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World Harvest HomesI am personally a man of the big cities. I love great

cities. I love masses of people. I was born in New Or-leans, Louisiana. My heart throbs for New York,London, Paris, Rome, Chicago, Hong Kong, Manila,Singapore, and Calcutta. But in my office in South Bend,God spoke to my heart, “Give ye them to eat.”

“Who, Lord?” I asked.God answered, “You thrill to minister to crowds, but

I have the homeless, the helpless, the orphans, all hid-den behind closed doors who also need my love.”

I did not want to get involved in the child-care min-istry for any personal reasons. It began when my tele-phone rang at 3:00 one morning in South Bend. I an-swered the startling ring to hear the voice of Mrs. ElvaVanderbout Soriano calling transworld from the Philip-pines: “My children have no food; we have no money;we have no one to help us.” Mrs. Soriano did not knowthat the Lord had already told me to help children, andhere was my first open door.

Immediately I replied, “A check will be on its waythis morning as soon as I get to the office.”

Thereupon we adopted over forty orphans in the high-lands of Luzon. These are the children of the headhunt-ers of the dense mountain vastness. I have never regret-ted entering this new venture.

From Baguio, we extended our child-care ministryinto various tribes, then to Hong Kong, and later intoIsrael, Italy, and India.

Today we are helping support over three thousandchildren in fifteen nations. This ministry is expandingand will continue to expand under the anointing of theHoly Spirit.

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RadioEven before organizing the Christian Center Church

in South Bend, we began petitioning the FederalCommunications Commission for a constructionpermit for a new FM radio station. It was while we werebuilding our new church that the permit came fromthe FCC.

By faith we began a $100,000 building program toput up a tower and studio facilities for WHME—WorldHarvest Missionary Evangelism.

The end of our long wait for the decision of the FCCwas just the beginning of a four-year battle with the devil.He did not want our station on the air, and he used everytactic to delay it and jeopardize its success. Althoughwe owned about six acres of wooded property, the neigh-bors protested the erection of a tower in the area. Localofficials balked at issuing a permit. Court hearings en-sued and new complications developed. New land hadto be purchased and FCC permits had to be extendedand modified. One by one the pieces finally began tofall into place and God gave the victory.

Since 1969, WHME FM-103 has been reaching outto a sixty-five mile radius twenty-four hours a day, bless-ing untold multitudes of people with totally Christianprograming.

For a number of years, every weekday morning at9:00 I personally presented a half hour open line pro-gram called “May I Help You, Please.” The hundreds ofmiracles of deliverance God wrought through this pro-gram alone could fill many volumes.

TelevisionAt the time we started our Christian radio station, it

seemed like a gigantic step. Little did I know that it was

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just a small training ground for a much broader and moreeffective ministry God had in store.

Soon after the radio station was on the air, God im-pressed me that Christian radio alone would not reachthis generation. Television dominates America’s freetime. It has the power to control the minds of the masses,especially the youth. It can actually determine the des-tiny of a soul—or of an entire nation. Television is themedium of communication that will reach the world forJesus.

We had seen the effectiveness of television whilebuilding our first church in South Bend. For several yearswe presented a prime time Saturday night program whichdrew hundreds to our church and reached many morefor Jesus Christ.

However, the station took our prime time slot fromus, banishing our program to an early Sunday morninghour when the people who needed the broadcast mostwere not watching.

Later, in building the Christian Center Church, wehad a program on one of the local South Bend stations.Because we were testifying of supernatural miracles ofhealing and deliverance on this program, the stationmanager gave us a mandate—“Modify your message,suppress the miracles, or go off the air.” We would notcompromise. We went off the air.

I was not alone in this experience. Such giants inChristian telecasting as Billy Graham, Rex Humbard,Oral Roberts, and Pat Robertson found it difficult to getprime time in major television markets across the nation.

One of the largest Christian broadcasters in the worldtold me he could see the handwriting on the wall. Hepredicted that there were very few years left in whichany commercial time at all would be available for

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Christian television programs—at any price.I saw the crying need of building a network of Chris-

tian television stations. When we began, there were onlyfive or six such stations in the world. Today there areseveral dozen. Any group can be licensed for a maxi-mum of twelve stations. All of the Christian televisionstations in the world are owned and operated by evan-gelical gospel leaders.

Although I had some experience, I did not under-stand the whole of television when I moved into it. Per-haps this was best, for had I known the complexity ofthis medium I might not have had the faith to tackle it.

I was offered the opportunity to buy a bankrupt mil-lion watt television station licensed for the Indianapo-lis, Indiana area. This station, with its many cablevisionoutlets, has a potential of reaching between two and threemillion viewers. By faith I accepted the challenge of rais-ing the $900,000 necessary to purchase this station. Godhonored our faith by performing miracle after miracleuntil we purchased Channel 40 and put it back on theair. We renamed the station WHMB (World HarvestMissionary Broadcasting) and introduced a format offamily gospel programming. When we began broadcast-ing on November 3, 1972, we had a viewing audienceso small that the station was not even listed in the ARBratings for Indianapolis. The blessing of God, however,was upon this effort, and before long our ratings soared.Souls were saved and denominations began to flow to-gether in friendliness and harmony.

The station had very little equipment when we pur-chased it and began broadcasting. We refused to pur-chase anything on credit, saying God would supply ourneeds, and today we are the best equipped television fa-cility in the state of Indiana, with several million dollars

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worth of the best electronic gear available.From this station we began our cablevision ministry.

This arm has reached out until our programs are now onover one hundred television outlets. Through other satel-lite networks we reach virtually every state in the country.

We acquired Channel 46 in South Bend, Indiana, a2.5 million watt station which had been in bankruptcyfor two years. We renamed this station WHME (WorldHarvest Missionary Evangelism), the same as our radiostation.

I feel that I am under direct orders from heaven toreach at least ten million people every day with the gos-pel message via television. Five days a week, I co-host asixty-minute call-in interview show, “LeSEA Alive.” Wefeature special guests and a bank of manned telephonesfor handling incoming calls. Audience response has beenoverwhelming with an average of three thousand lettersand three thousand telephone calls received each month.Also I have videotaped hundreds of hours of Bibleteaching programs.

We are taking our television programs produced herein Indiana and broadcasting them in Tokyo, the largestcity in the world. They are also aired in Manila and inthe West Indies. Every day we are seeking new possi-bilities for reaching more people for Jesus Christ.

When I returned from Manila to labor for God inAmerica, God promised me that on American televisionI would pray one short prayer and ten thousand soulswould be set free from oppressive demonic power!

In order to reach our goal we must have more sta-tions—new stations are being added as the Lord pro-vides funds, and through them we will be able to reachthe millions of people who must know the truth of theLord Jesus Christ.

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We have established an Earth Station with our facil-ity in South Bend. This enables us to broadcast by satel-lite, reducing cost and increasing quality, reliability, andflexibility of our television transmission services. Weare capable of beaming out Christian television program-ming across the United States and around the world.

World Harvest Bible CollegeI was preaching in Brasilia, the new capital city of

the great nation of Brazil in South America. We werehaving a good revival meeting and I was enjoying theblessings of God. For more than two weeks I had fastedwithout eating a meal, and at the same time was preach-ing twice a day. I had lost very little weight and felt strongphysically.

During this time of seeking God’s face I made whatmay sound like a selfish request of God. I prayed, “Lord,you have told others their position in life. You haveshown others their life ministry. Would you be so kindas to reveal to me my future work?”

I remembered how the Lord had spoken to Peter thatwhen he was old he would be led where he didn’t wantto go, speaking of the death that he would die. Thisprophecy meant Peter could not die young. Herod puthim in jail in Jerusalem but could not kill him. Christhad prophesied that he would live to be an old man, andhe was not an old man at that time.

I asked God to reveal to me my end and the ministryI must fulfill. As I prayed it seemed like a storm enteredmy hotel room. The power of God came upon me; I feltan unusual anointing of the Holy Spirit. The voice ofthe Lord spoke to my heart, saying, “It is written in Psalm71:18.”

I did not at the moment have any idea what was in

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that verse. I did not know what God was going to say tome. Kneeling beside the bed I opened my Bible and read:“Now also when I am old and grayheaded, O God, for-sake me not; until I have shewed thy strength unto thisgeneration, and thy power to every one that is to come.”

I read that verse again and laughed out loud, “Onething is for sure—I am going to get old and grayheaded.”

God was promising me that for the rest of my lifemy ministry would remain. My years would not reducethe strength and vitality of my work for God.

Then the significance of this verse came into focus.God said, “…until I have shewed thy strength unto thisgeneration.” Not only was I to witness to God’s strengthbut also to show His strength. I was to continue to prayfor the sick and see them healed. I was to continue topray for the bound and possessed and see them deliv-ered. I was to continue to pray for the unsaved and seethem find the Savior.

God continued, “…and thy power to every one thatis to come.”

I saw this as a command to teach young ministers ofGod’s power. I was to become a teacher of young menand women—ministers, pastors, missionaries, and evan-gelists—about one thing, and that is God’s power.

Now that I knew what my end-time ministry was tobe, I must fulfill it. I must keep the faith. I must impartthe faith.

In response to this direction from the Lord, I beganthe World Harvest Advanced School of Evangelism. Sev-eral times a year we would call ministers, missionaries,evangelists, and key laymen to South Bend for specialstudies regarding the greatest needs of the hour. Stu-dents came from across the United States as well as Af-rica, Europe, India, Latin America, Israel, Hong Kong,

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Okinawa, the Philippines, and many other countries tostudy God’s Word.

By faith we built a lovely functional quarter of amillion dollar facility with lecture hall, dining hall, dor-mitory rooms, and recreational area.

Soon it was evident that the Advanced School ofEvangelism was not sufficient. We needed a regular Biblecollege. World Harvest Bible College has been in op-eration for a number of years. It is a four-year residenttraining center providing preparation in the Word, plan,and work of God.

Experienced, Spirit-filled faculty are helping us de-velop a school that is measured by its distinctives.Through World Harvest Bible College the ministry isbeing multiplied many times over. We feel this will beone of the great outreaches to help us bring that millionsouls into the gates of heaven.

World Harvest Radio InternationalOn December 25, 1985, LeSEA Ministries went live,

24 hours a day, via shortwave radio. WHRI radio en-ables us to reach more than 1.3 billion people daily withthe gospel of Jesus Christ. We are heard in 117 coun-tries, nations such as Argentina, Israel, England, Eastand West Germany, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, Egypt,as well as the U.S.S.R. and many other countries thatwere long behind the iron curtain. Only God knows whata great harvest of souls this could bring, not to mentionuniting the body of Christ.The End-Time Joseph Program to Feed the Hungry

I have only had three visions in my life, and I waswell into my seventies before I had the last one.

I was sitting on the front row of a church in PanamaCity, Florida when, as I closed my eyes in meditation, I

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saw a River of Blood. It was as dramatic as the two othervisions that I had seen.

I told the church and pastor about it that evening.The following night in Birmingham, Alabama, as I

was praying in church during the song service, I againsaw in a strong manner this River of Blood. I thought itcould mean judgment and so I told the people to prayand to write the date on the flyleaf of their Bibles.

The Tree of LifeA few days later I was in Denver, Colorado and a

pastor said that the Lord had given him a prophecy con-cerning me.

He said my life was like a planted tree and that therewere many branches on the tree.

He saw a limb representing the missionary churchesI have raised up. He saw the branch representing themore than 100 different books and teaching syllabi I havewritten.

He saw the television stations as a limb on the tree.He saw the Christian Center Church of South Bend

as a strong branch.Then he said, “Now a new branch will grow on your

tree of life. It will be a large limb and more productive,with more satisfaction than any branch on your tree of life.”

“The End-Time Joseph Program” the New “Branch”I was leading a tour group in Jerusalem in Novem-

ber, 1987. One night I suddenly woke up at ten minutesto midnight, after going to bed at eleven p.m.

God said,

“It is also midnight in prophetic time. One ofMy greatest concerns is that My people, part of

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My church, do not suffer death by starvation be-fore I return. Will you help feed them?

“To them it would be an angelic food supply!It would be a miracle!

“Hunger is an agonizing death. Give to thosewho are dying and you shall live happily and vic-toriously.

“I speak to you in Jerusalem. It is the citywhere I took the bread and blessed it and said,‘Take eat, this is My body broken for you.’ Sotake bread for the spirit, soul and body to themultitudes of the earth.

“Go especially to famine and war areas wherethere is devastation and hunger and feed them.

“Many are suffering. You will bring the foodin fast by plane. You are to ride with the plane,watch the food being given out, and rejoice tosee the children fed. Also give food to refugeeswho require help. It is My pity upon them.

“America has the food. Buy it and take it tothe hungry.

“Use storage houses to hold the food until youare ready to distribute it to the hungry.”

The Lord said,

“If I bless you financially for your needs, willyou operate a global feeding program for Mypeople?

“You will distribute the food through pastorsand churches. Don’t let My people die of starva-tion.”

My response at nearly five a.m., after listening to

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God for five hours, was: “I am willing Lord.”The Lord said,

“Then you will understand, the River of Bloodflowing toward you is life flowing deep and wide.At times the blessing will be almost uncontrol-lable. Get ready for it!”

The Three-Pronged ApproachTo fulfill the vision God gave me, The End-Time

Joseph Program to Feed the Hungry has a three-prongedapproach that applies everywhere we go:

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10,000 PastorsGod told me to call for 10,000 pastors to respond to

the challenge of feeding the hungry. We have appointedpastors to act as international directors in various partsof the world. Using the three-pronged approach, wher-ever there is an emergency our international directorsdeliver food and supplies to the local pastors who inturn distribute them to their own people.

Fasting and PrayerOne of the ways we have found to be most effective

in generating support for the millions who are starving,is to challenge people to fast two meals one day a weekfrom sunset to sunrise and to give the money saved tofeed the hungry. By denying ourselves food, we learn tohave compassion for those who are starving.

Provide physical food.Conduct pastors’ seminars.Hold evangelistic crusades, praying for the sickand delivering the oppressed.

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Christian Center ChurchAnything that is done for God should be centered in

the church of Jesus Christ. Jesus said the gates of hellwould not prevail against His church. Other para-churchorganizations are fulfilling a vital function, but none ofthese will ever replace the local church.

To be supported and backed by a strong church isnecessary to all of our ministries. God has given us agreat congregation that know how to pray and exercisefaith in God. The Christian Center Church family back-ing me in everything I do gives me a tremendous senseof strength and solidarity. One of the great blessings ofmy life is the privilege God has given me to be the shep-herd of these beautiful people. It is a great joy to feelthat the total outreaches of this ministry flow through abranch of the church of the Lord Jesus Christ.

As I write these words I feel strongly that all my lifeI have been in training. All that God has helped us ac-complish has been in preparation for our greatest workimmediately before us. Our faith is strong. The vision isclear. We are running fast. Our greatest hour is just ahead!

The Vision Continues…Since its founding in 1957 by Dr. Lester Sumrall

(1913-1996), LeSEA has been shining the light of thegospel of Jesus Christ into the dark corners of the world.With the vision of reaching millions of lost souls, andwith the strength of faithful partners and staff, andthrough the power of the Holy Spirit, God continues toprovide many ways for LeSEA to impact the world.Though Dr. Sumrall went home to be with the Lord in1996, the vision to win the lost for Christ through themany outreaches of LeSEA continues more than ever.Here is an update of its many ministries:

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LeSEA Broadcasting(www.lesea.com)

The LeSEA Broadcasting Network is a multi-medianetwork covering the globe with the mission of reach-ing the untold millions yet untold with the Good News.Dr. Lester Sumrall founded LeSEA with the vision to“plow deep and wide” with the Gospel. He had a fewsimple goals for the ministry that we continue to live by:

TelevisionLeSEA owns and operates satellite station World

Harvest Television (WHT) in addition to 12 broadcaststations reaching over 25 million homes throughout theU.S. Each of our broadcast stations is unique to its ownlocal area, while being tied together with the same goalin mind. Our satellite station, WHT, reaches a nationalaudience on DirecTV 367, plus is carried on many TimeWarner and other local cable systems. Always lookinginto the future, LeSEA has moved each of these stationstowards digital television for a faster, more advancedworld while maintaining the desire to uphold our moralprinciples, adhering to the highest ethical standards ofits founder, Dr. Lester Sumrall.

One critical part of LeSEA’s television ministry isthe hour-long Harvest Show. Started in 1972 as an av-enue for Dr. Sumrall to share his wealth of wisdom onspiritual matters, the Harvest Show is LeSEA’s daily

Win a million souls to Jesus Christ every day.Provide families a clean family alternative tosecular media.Be able to do this in a way that continues theministry’s growth.

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connection with people around the world. The programserves as an integral part of the LeSEA family. Throughit we are able to share the vision of the ministry, givetools to help you on your Christian walk, and pray withour partners for their needs and concerns.

FM RadioPulse FM 96.9 went on the air as a positive alterna-

tive to mainstream radio with an all-contemporary Chris-tian music format. Our desire is to create a professional,all music-only radio station with a distinctly Christianmessage. In December of 2004, LeSEA Broadcastingwas able to increase Pulse FM’s listening base by pur-chasing WDOW 92.1 FM. The addition of WDOW wasan exciting step for Pulse FM, adding potentially thou-sands of people around southern Michigan and northernIndiana.

LeSEA Broadcasting’s flagship station, WHME103.1 FM, began broadcasting in 1968 as the result ofthe vision of Dr. Lester Sumrall. Recognizing that a timewould come when Christian broadcasting would be muchmore difficult to air, it was his dream to bring the mes-sage of God’s love to every nation on the earth. Thevision continues today with a mix of interactive talk,Bible teaching programs and a light mix of inspirationalmusic, 24 hours a day.

Shortwave Radio(www.whr.org)

It is with great excitement and anticipation thatLeSEA Broadcasting headed into a new year of WorldHarvest Radio offering the highest quality service of itskind. Now more than ever, the goal of Dr. Lester Sumrallto reach a million people for Christ every day is becoming

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a reality. On June 3, 2004, World Harvest Radio addedWSHB to the World Harvest Radio family of stations.Located in Cypress Creek, South Carolina, WSHB isconsidered to be one of the premier shortwave facilitiesin the world. This great signal covers South America,Central America, the Caribbean, North America, Europe,the Middle East, most of Africa and Australia. WSHBwill provide World Harvest Radio with a potential lis-tening audience of millions daily. In addition to WSHB,World Harvest Radio consists of five shortwave stations,called Angels, covering South America, Central America,North America, Asia, Australia and Africa. All of thesestations have the ability to penetrate the most remotepeople groups of the world with the Gospel of Christ.

SatelliteIn 1968 when Dr. Sumrall purchased LeSEA’s flag-

ship station WHME-FM, he dreamed of bringing themessage of God’s love and mercy to every nation throughmass media. Today, LeSEA is seeing that vision realizedand is reaching out to the untold billions yet untoldthrough satellite television. Within the USA, LeSEAoffers wholesome family and Christian programming onWorld Harvest TV (WHT) to DirecTV viewers on chan-nel 367, through many local cable providers as well asall AT&T U-verse subscribers. On an international scale,LeSEA’s Middle East TV (METV) can be seen in everycable and satellite home in Israel as well as 15 otherMiddle Eastern countries. That’s a potential viewingaudience of 70 million homes! Our Family Entertain-ment TV (FETV—formerly called Far East TV) is touch-ing as many as 25 million people in India and a potential4.3 billion people in Africa, Asia and Australia. BothMETV and FETV are uplinked to satellite from our state-of-the-art facilities in Limassol, Cyprus.

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The InternetLeSEA Internet Services has one goal...to provide

high-quality, visually appealing websites that connectyou to everything LeSEA Broadcasting is doing. Al-most half of all U.S. households are now online and avail-able for two-way communication, opening new doorsfor Christian evangelism. Every month we receive over100,000 visitors to the LeSEA website and 100,000prayer requests via the Internet, and that number is stillgrowing! With today’s technology, anyone with a com-puter can download and view LeSEA broadcasts fromanywhere.

Prayerline(www.worldharvest.com)

Dr. Sumrall once said, “There is no power known toman more effective than the prayers of a God-fearingpeople.” In 1970, Dr. Sumrall put this belief into actionby establishing a cornerstone in the LeSEA Broadcast-ing family: World Harvest Prayerline. Prayerline servesas a twenty-four hour help line with the Christian em-phasis of prayer and provides a source of hope to thosefeeling lost and distressed. On average, about three hun-dred people a day—from around the world—contactPrayerline via phone, email and mail. Their needs rangefrom family issues, to drug problems, to health issues,to financial concerns, to emotional issues. The volun-teers on the Prayerline staff truly love God and all Hispeople. Many have seen the difference it makes to talkwith a prayer partner about their problems and receiveagreement through prayer.

Through the years, Prayerline has proven an impor-tant source of encouragement for both believers and thoseseeking a relationship with God. LeSEA Prayerline will

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always strive to uphold the principles of its founder byoffering a compassionate, listening ear to those in need,day or night.

Spread The Word CampaignThe Spread the Word campaign was launched in 2000

with the goal of giving a Bible to any individual whorequested one. Through the generosity of our partners,over 380,000 Bibles have been distributed. We continueto give Bibles as we receive requests via METV, FETV,Shortwave and the Harvest Show.

LeSEA Tours(www.leseatours.com)

LeSEA Tours began in 1950 when the Sumrall fam-ily lived in Israel. Dr. Lester Sumrall fell in love withthe Holy Land and its people. His passion for the regionsoon led him to bring others, and before long LeSEATours was born.

LeSEA began officially hosting tour group excur-sions to Israel in the mid-1960’s. Since then, LeSEATours has taken over 10,000 travelers to the land of theBible. Dr. Sumrall personally made over 100 pilgrim-ages to Israel and each time he strove to make the trip aspiritual learning experience unique to each traveler, atradition that continues today. LeSEA Tours makes eachopportunity for in-depth study and learning, as well as atime of nurturing individual spirituality. The last 40 yearshave provided LeSEA Tours with the knowledge andrelationships necessary to continue to escort touriststhrough the nation of Israel. We work closely with theministry of Tourism, their ground personnel and guidesto prepare a well-planned adventure with every detailkept in mind. Each day is designed using the knowl-edge of the guides to create a fun and fulfilling day.

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Making Healthy Choices Life(www.mhclife.com)

Founded in 1994, Making Healthy Choices is a divi-sion of LeSEA Broadcasting which functions under theumbrella of LeSEA, Inc. The goal of MHC Life is toprovide our customers with quality resources in the formof superb products and nutritional information to helppeople meet their weight loss and health improvementgoals.

LeSEA Global Feed the Hungry(www.feedthehungry.org)

For more than 20 years, LeSEA Global Feed TheHungry has delivered help and hope to suffering peopleworldwide. It seems like just yesterday when Dr. LesterSumrall received the inspiration to start Feed The Hungrywhile leading a tour to Israel. From that November nightin Jerusalem in 1987 until today, we have pushed for-ward to reach out to people around the world who havebeen caught in the grip of poverty, war, and natural di-saster.

Working hand-in-hand with local churches in overninety nations has proven to be the most efficient andeffective way to get things done— after all, who knowsthe needs of a village or city better than local ministriesof compassion that live and work right within that com-munity. And it’s helped us keep overhead at a mini-mum… in 2008, ninety-three cents of every dollar wentdirectly to help people in need.

One important part of Feed the Hungry is The EveryChild Every Day project. It is our commitment to feedvulnerable children on a daily basis through partnershipswith Orphanages, Schools, and Childcare Ministriesaround the globe.

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The idea for Every Child Every Day came to us in2005, with a goal to feed 1000 children each day for 12months. We’ve met that goal and surpased it. Now weare reaching towards a goal of connecting with 100,000children on a daily basis. As caring people open theirhearts and give towards this cause, we can reach thatgoal and literally see a generation of children receivethe help and hope they need to grow up strong in spirit,mind, and body. It is an opportunity to make a genera-tional impact as we work with well-established minis-tries in Central America, Africa, and Asia—becauseGod’s word will be taught and demonstrated before theirvery eyes. These children will see the love of God inword and in deed.

Christian Center Church(www.christiancenter.org)

Christian Center carries on the vision set by Dr.Sumrall to reach the “untold billions yet untold” throughfresh and flourishing ministry that meets the need ofevery member of the family. The passion of our heart isto assist people in reaching their full potential in Christbecause we believe that every person was created andequipped for greatness in the Kingdom of God. We seekto live out the passion for potential by building all thatwe do around four purposes:

Empowering Worship - we exist to magnify theLord Jesus Christ through anointed worship ledby skilled musicians and worship leaders.

Evangelizing the World - we exist to completethe mission set out by the Lord Jesus Christthrough creative and compassionate outreach tothe lost of our community and beyond.

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Edifying the Body - we exist to build the faith ofeach member of our spiritual family throughevents of fellowship and coming together to en-courage one another in the Lord.

Equipping the Believer - we exist to insure thateach member of the body of Christ is fully trainedand equipped to live out the calling and purposefor which they were born.

LeSEA Publishing and Christian Center Bookstore(www.leseapublishing.com)(www.christiancenterbookstore.com)

In order to equip the body of Christ, Dr. LesterSumrall wrote hundreds of books and syllabi now avail-able through LeSEA Publishing and Christian CenterBookstore. Dr. Sumrall covered a wide range of topicswith helpful insight to life’s difficult questions throughScripture. His vast wealth of topics in his writings rangefrom the basics of Christianity—salvation, faith, heal-ing, love, the miracles of Jesus and the Holy Spirit—tothe more complicated and sometimes controversial top-ics of demons, deliverance, the dispensations, prosper-ity and immortality. With hundreds of topics and Dr.Sumrall’s conviction for the truth, his works continue tobe relevant for every generation. LeSEA Publishing andChristian Center Bookstore offer an array of formats ofDr. Sumrall’s teachings, including books, in depth studyguides, audio tapes, CDs, VHS and DVDs. In addition,Christian Center Bookstore carries a large and variedselection of literature from Christian authors both pastand present, gifts for children and adults, and an excel-lent selection of Bibles for study for adults and youth.Orders can be shipped to any destination.

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Indiana Christian UniversityIndiana Christian University dates back to 1907. ICU

became part of LeSEA Ministries in 1988 and a mergerwith the former World Harvest Bible College was final-ized in 1993. Indiana Christian University offers a Cer-tificate of Ministry Studies as well as Associate of Arts,Bachelor of Arts, and Master of Arts degrees. The In-dianapolis campus also offers the Master of Divinity,Doctor of Ministry and Doctor of Theology.

The mission statement of ICU is five-fold:

Indiana Christian University exists to enable in-dividuals to discover and pursue their life’s pur-pose and mission.Indiana Christian University exists to equip indi-viduals for a life of ministry and success throughBiblical teaching, inspiring seminars, and practi-cal ministry experience.Indiana Christian University exists to empowerindividuals with the study towards and the earn-ing of a college degree in Biblical Studies andMinistry along with learning lifelong leadershipprinciples at an affordable investment with theconvenience of a local campus.Indiana Christian University exists to enhance theministry of the local church and pastor throughBiblical and ministry training of leaders in orderfor them to better serve the ministry needs of thelocal church.Indiana Christian University exists to engage stu-dents in a lifelong process of personal develop-ment and improvement.

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World Harvest Ministers Network(www.whmn.net)

Dr. Sumrall’s sixty-five plus years of worldwide min-istry experience have been a source of encouragementand inspiration to thousands of men and women withthe call of God on their lives. Long ago Dr. Sumrall madea commitment to support and undergird God’s servants,and that commitment has never ceased to grow.W.H.M.N., a product of that commitment, is an interde-nominational fellowship of ministers and churches dedi-cated to one another for the purpose of promoting worldharvest by facilitating excellence in individual ministrythrough the sharing of corporate strength.

Our members come from a wide variety of back-grounds and locations. We offer membership in the net-work to ministers who wish to retain their credentialswith another organization but desire the fellowship, vi-sion, resources, and benefits that are afforded throughW.H.M.N. We also offer certification to those ministerswho desire licensing and ordination through LeSEA anda Christian Worker License to those who provideanointed and faithful service to their local congregationbut are not yet engaged in full-time ministry.

The objective of the World Harvest Ministers Net-work is to help ministers reach their full potential throughfive avenues:

Building effective partnerships with like-mindedministries through regional network centers, pre-venting isolation, localism, and tunnel vision.

Assisting the development of leadership abili-ties and skills through local clinics, regionalseminars, and national conferences.

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Creating resources designed to maximize min-istry time, energy, finances, and people.

Education and participation in aggressiveworld missions.

Providing discounted rates for ministry-relatedgoods and services, such as a retirement invest-ment program, legal counsel, access to mem-bers-only online services, travel & lodging dis-counts, and exclusive missions opportunitieswith LeSEA Global Feed The Hungry.

To sum it up, World Harvest Ministers Network isdetermined to be the best support and service organiza-tion available to ministers today.

Together, as Dr. Sumrall put it, we are at the door-step of “the greatest move of God humanity has everexperienced.” W.H.M.N. allows each of us to collec-tively maximize our strengths, minimize our weaknesses,and make us more effective in gathering this end-timeharvest for Jesus.

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The voice of Dr. Lester Sumrall remainsprominent in the Christian world today.More than 65 years of ministry in over100 nations made Dr. Sumrall a respectedsource of wisdom and understanding. He was anauthor, teacher, missionary, evangelist, and the pastor andfounder of Christian Center Church in South Bend, Indiana.Throughout his lifetime, Dr. Sumrall worked tirelessly tofulfill the Great Commission by carrying the gospel to theends of the earth. In 1957 he founded LeSEA, a multifacetedglobal outreach. Today LeSEA’s outreaches blanketthe world through television, satellite, FM and shortwaveradio, and LeSEA Global Feed the Hungry®.

Would you like to be a part of feeding the spirit, soul, andbody of the hungry?Call today! 1- 888-TEAM-FTH / 1-888-8326-384

Dr. Lester Sumrall1913-1996

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Other books by Dr. Lester Sumrall

Adventuring With ChristAlien EntitiesAngels to Help YouBe Bold and Walk TallDemons: The Answer BookExorcism: The Reality of Evil and Your Power Over It!Faith Can Change Your WorldThe Gifts and Ministries of the Holy SpiritGod’s Blueprint for a Happy HomeJerusalem: Where Empires DieJihad—The Holy WarThe Life Story of Lester SumrallMaking of a ChampionMercy: Man’s Greatest HopeThe Militant ChurchMystery of DeathPanorama of ProphecyPioneers of FaithSecrets of Answered PrayerSupernatural Principalities & PowersYou Can Destroy the Gates of Hell101 Questions & Answers on Demon Power

To receive a catalog of available materials, contact:

LeSEA Publishing530 E. Ireland Rd, South Bend, IN 466141-888-584-4847www.leseapublishing.com

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Prayer of Salvation

A born-again, committed relationship with God is the key to thevictorious life. Jesus, the Son of God, laid down His life and rose againso that we could spend eternity with Him in heaven and experience Hisabsolute best on earth. The Bible says, “For God so loved the world, thathe gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him shouldnot perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).

It is the will of God that everyone receive eternal salvation. Theway to receive this salvation is to call upon the name of Jesus and confessHim as your Lord. The Bible says, “That if thou shalt confess with thymouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raisedhim from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For whosoever shall call upon thename of the Lord shall be saved” (Romans 10:9-10,13).

Jesus has given salvation, healing and countless benefits to all whocall upon His name. These benefits can be yours if you receive Him intoyour heart by praying this prayer with sincerity:

Heavenly Father, I come to You admitting that I am asinner. Right now, I choose to turn away from sin, and I askYou to cleanse me of all unrighteousness. I believe that YourSon, Jesus, died on the cross to take away my sins. I alsobelieve that He rose again from the dead so that I might bejustified and made righteous through faith in Him. I call uponthe name of Jesus Christ to be the Savior and Lord of my life.Jesus, I choose to follow You, and ask that You fill me with thepower of the Holy Spirit. I declare that right now, I am a born-again child of God. I am free from sin, and full of the righ-teousness of God. I am saved in Jesus’ name, Amen.

If you have prayed this prayer to receive Jesus Christ as your Sav-ior, or if this book has changed your life, we would like to hear from you.Please write us at:

Christian Center Church530 E. Ireland Rd.

South Bend, IN 46614

You may also call us at: 574-291-3292 (ask for the pastoral staff)

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