Precious Memories - Page 5
Right after the Lord healed me, we were praying, fasting and seeking God for His divine will in our lives. We were attending a little church near Conyers, Georgia, and George was teaching Sunday School and leading singing, but he knew that God wanted him to preach the gospel
During a revival, an evangelist was telling of the great need for preachers in the little town of Wymore, Nebraska. The only holiness church in that small town was closed down because no one wanted to pastor it. It was considered a mission work because there was no income and no people to count on to come, even if the little church was reopened. I didn’t think too much about what the evangelist was saying until George began to talk about how terrible he thought it was that four or five preachers were attending church where we were going and giving the pastor trouble because they were always trying to get “cottage prayer meetings” started, or were always getting groups off by themselves to discuss the pastor’s failures or shortcomings; each one wanting to shepherd the sheep, thus causing confusion constantly. None of them were willing to go to other places where people were begging for pastors, because there was no money and they weren’t willing to bear the cross and suffer hardships like a good soldier.
This was heavy on George’s heart, but what I didn’t know was that God’s plan was going to include us. I knew that this was about fifteen hundred miles from home, and, at this time, I had never traveled any farther from home that Florida, so to me it was like going to the other side of the world.
We had struggled and built a small house, and only owed a few hundred dollars on it. George, at this time, was driving a laundry truck. We worked on it, turning it into a ministry by passing out tracts, visiting and witnessing for Jesus. We sought out the poor and needy on our route, and in our small way, tried to help them.
One day, George asked me if I would be willing to go to Nebraska so that he could pastor this church. I tried to reason with him and talk him out of it, because we had three small children at this time (Dale-5, George Jr.-3, Cindy-2). I soon realized that all of my talk and reasoning was to no avail. This mission was growing heavier and heavier on his heart. One day, I thought I would put a stop to it, so I said very bravely, that we needed to put God to the test and see if He really wanted us to go. I said, “Write a letter to the overseer of the church and tell them that if they will pay our way, then we will come.” I thought this would settle it, because I really didn’t think they would; but, to my surprise, a return letter came right back with the bus fare in it!
So, to make a long story short, it wasn’t long until we were on our way to Wymore, Nebraska. When we arrived at the little church, how well I remember the lonely feeling I had. Fifteen hundred miles away from our friends and loved ones! We found a little two story frame house with brick siding on it, and a little church that had been deserted and closed up for a long, long time.
We settled our few belongings that we had managed to bring with us in the little parsonage and began to clean and try to make our little family feel at home so far from home.
This was the beginning of some wonderful experiences that taught us faith, which will never leave our hearts throughout eternity. We were very young in the Lord, but He was so patient and understanding with us, as He taught us, step by step, as a mother does a small child when teaching it to walk. Many times we would stumble, only to find His gentle hands there to lift us up and encourage us to try again.