THE SINGING PIONEER By
F. A. Powell
much "soap," ministerially speaking, but on the way while riding out, I had studied a great deal about David and his experience with the lion and the bear. The theme in the beginning of the revival was how David took care of his fathers flocks and when the lion and the bear came to destroy them, how David slew both the lion and the bear. Then I made my application that the lion and the bear of sin had crept into our communities and though I was just a stripling, I was going out to meet this lion and bear of sin in the name of God of Israel. The power of God came on the service and people were weeping all over the building.
We dismissed the service and I started walking back to my father-in-law's home across the pasture some half a mile distance. I thought I was alone, but the devil went with me and He said, "My, that was a great service, didn't you see how the power of God was present, didn't you see how the people wept? You are going to make a great preacher." I went in much elated.
The report went out of our good service, and I had announced that night that I would preach the next night on my call to the ministry. As that announcement went over the community, it looked like the whole country side had turned out for the service. When the building was filled and more people coming, they brought in spring seats from the wagons and chairs were placed about the front and around the after. Even then all of the people didn't get in, some were looking through the windows.
As I rose to give the message I read from Luke, "The Spirit the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord."
What a beautiful scripture to bring a gospel message from! But do you know as I endeavored to speak the devil seemed to get me by the throat, and all but choked me. I forgot everything that I ever knew, in fact, I couldn't think of a thing to say. The building was so crowded that I had only a little space by the side of the organ in which to stand. You know how we preachers do when we get in the brush, I started stomping, trying to tramp the brush, swinging my arms and my first swing struck an elderly baldheaded man on the head, which made matters worse. I thought what on earth can I do?
I finally raised my hands and gave the benediction. But, how was I to get out of there? I felt like if they would drill a little hole in the floor it wouldn't have taken a very large one for me to have gotten through that night. I slipped among the people making for the side door and dodged out into the night.
As I made my way back toward my father-in-law's home, I think I was in about the worse shape that I was ever in my life. It seemed like I would burn up from within. I ran up to the windmill and tried to take cold water, thinking that might help me. But, no, it was no help. I then ran off over north into the orchard among the fruit trees and there I fell. If ever a young preacher died out to being popular or preaching great sermons, I did that night. If I could have felt that God would relieve me from my call to preach, I never would have endeavored to preach another sermon. But to me I felt it was preach or hell. So I had to take up my cross and make further efforts.
There was another sad incident which occurred in this meeting. On Friday night, the crowds were large, and many young couples were there whom I had known from their childhood. One young
couple came to me at the close of the service and seemed very glad to see me and said, "We'll not see you tomorrow night but well be here Sunday."
Saturday night they went to a big dance. He danced with other girls, and she danced with other young men. In the early hours of Sunday morning they came home, but not to rest for they were having jealous fussings. It went on all during the day. Sunday, instead of going to church, they stayed at home and fussed. Monday, just as I was getting ready to open the school, I saw an old neighbor riding up. I knew him from a distance for he was a neighbor and I wondered why he came, for he would not be coming to singing school. He dismounted from his horse and came walking toward me.
I greeted him kindly but he didn't return the usual greeting, but said to me, "I've sad news for you.
Rosy took strychnine at four o'clock this morning, died about six, and they want you to conduct the funeral tomorrow afternoon. What a tragedy! I dismissed the school for that day, mounted a horse, and rode down and tried to comfort the family.
Before I reached the house a couple of the women came out to meet me. Of all the wailing I had ever heard, I heard from these two women as they tried to tell of the tragedy. They were weeping much, but their weeping was too late for this friend and chum. She was gone. I believe it was one of the saddest funerals of my ministry. Shall we drop the curtain here? May God have mercy upon us all.
THE SINGING PIONEER By
F. A. Powell