Positively positive.

[Sam]

Elvis Presley's Pentecostal roots were deep. His parents met in a Pentecostal church. His great-uncles co-pastored one. Elvis was baptized in one when he was about 9.
He was rebaptized in another one a few years later, according to Rev. Rex Dyson, a minister in one of the Church of Jesus Christ organizations. Dyson said he rebaptized Elvis and his parents, Vernon and Gladys, in Memphis sometime around 1950.

The Presley's moved to Memphis in 1948, when Elvis was 13. Dyson said it wasn't long after that when Elvis and his parents began worshiping at his Church of Jesus Christ on Seventh Street at Saffarans. The Presley's lived in several places around that time, all within a few blocks of Dyson's church.

“Vernon and Gladys heard me preach about baptism a few times, then they came to me and said they wanted to be baptized in the name of Jesus”, Dyson said. “Next Sunday morning, I baptized Vernon and then Gladys. Elvis was watching from the side. He walked over to the baptistry, while his mama and daddy were still in the water, and he said, `I want to be baptized like that'. So, I baptized Elvis in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ”.

During his high school years, Elvis frequently attended Bro. Dyson's church.

Bishop Joseph Rex Dyson was born March 12, 1900 in Redfield, Arkansas. On August 2, 2002 in Memphis, Tennessee at the age of 102 he died in Memphis, Tennessee. He is a 2008 inductee into the Apostolic Ministerial Hall of Fame.

[Sam]

This is from pages 70-73.. of “Bug and Nona On The Go” copyright.. 1979 by Word Aflame Press. The book was written by Nona Freeman and It tells about some of the early experiences of her and her husband as missionaries in Africa where they served for 41 years after arriving in 1948. These are stories of some of the ways God provided for them in those early days.

All of us slept in one small bedroom—wall to wall beds. At first, the family with whom we were living served us meals. But because they were struggling financially, too, the lady later said we would have to be responsible for our own meals. I could, however, cook on her coal stove when the servant prepared their food.

About this time I wondered if the Lord still had our address. I then tried asking in a simple way. He answered!

“Lord, please send me something to cook for my children.” I answered a knock at the door, and there stood Aunt Lil and Uncle Hans Botes. “We were passing by and thought we would look in . . .” She had a covered basket that she handed to me as she left. “Some fresh vegetables to cook with your meat.”

Well, there wasn’t any meat, but that basket came full of vegetables every day for a month, and one cannot starve to death on soup! Years later I learned that “a voice” told her to bring them. She was afraid I would be offended, but my appreciation was obvious.

We spent most of the next two months taking care of other people’s homes while they went on holiday. Then a widowed schoolteacher said if we would move to Kempton Park, she would pay the rent and board for us. She also loaned us a deposit on some secondhand furniture. She was soon transferred, so we moved, of necessity, to a cheaper house when our first check came. The next one came seven weeks later, but in the meantime . . .

“Mother, I know it’s not quite noon, but the oatmeal we had for breakfast is gone, and we’re hungry.” Bug looked at the kids for support, and they all nodded...

“What’s for lunch?”

“Have you ever heard of Mother Hubbard’s cupboard? Go take a look—our shelves are bare! I even used the last grain of salt in the oats.”

“Well,” Bug said, “I’ll walk down to the post office and see if maybe someone sent us a letter with a dollar in it.”

I was waiting for his return at the front gate and knew by the slump of his shoulders that there was no letter—with or without dollars. Watching his approach, I hit bottom. I didn’t mind for myself, but my children . . .

“Now, dear,” he put a finger under my chin, “don’t look like that. God has never failed us. We haven’t missed any meals yet. Some of them may have been rather far apart, but we haven’t missed any.” He came in, and I latched the gate behind him. Just at that instant an African stopped at the gate with the most overloaded basket I’d ever seen on the front of his bicycle. He was pushing the cycle because it was too heavy to ride. I waved him on.

“We didn’t order any groceries.” He didn’t move.

“Is this number 67 Maxwell Street?”

“Yes, but I told you we didn’t order groceries.”

I leaned over and locked the gate. The Bantu ignored me and looked at Bug.

“Is your name Freeman?” He fumbled in his pocket and came out with the flap of an envelope. He looked at it closely. “Rev. E. L. Freeman, 67 Maxwell Street,” he said triumphantly. He handed Bug the scrap of paper. It was our name and address, written with fine spidery flourishes unlike any writing we had ever seen.

“Who sent you?” I asked. He only shrugged his shoulders.

Bug touched my arm. “Dear, I think God has sent our lunch. Will you open the gate and let it come in?”

This was pre-supermarket days in South Africa. Whoever was responsible for that basket had gathered its contents from the butcher, the dairy, the greengrocers and the grocery store. The last of the food was prepared the day our next check came.

Immediately after lunch, I hurried to the only folks we knew—to say thanks. I was sure they were responsible, but the lady answered, “What a strange and wonderful thing! We didn’t know you were in need. We didn’t send it.”

After that, I asked everyone we had met since our arrival in the country, but no one knew anything about that basket. One day I said to Bug, “I wish I could find the one who sent those groceries; I’d like to thank him adequately or try to, at least. Do you realize our children would have gone hungry otherwise?”

Bug smiled. “Shall I tell you what I think? Do you remember that peculiar handwriting? I think the Lord let us know for sure that He knows exactly where we live. Don’t you believe that He still has angels that He dispatches to do his bidding? The One who sent the basket hears us now, so let’s go on our knees and thank Him again.”

[Jermyn Davidson]

Originally Posted by Tim Rutledge

Philippians4:8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

This is my first time starting a thread.

What I'd like is a thread thats 100% positive with humor, inspiration and faith building.

Lets brag on Jesus.

We've recieved the revelation of who Jesus is and the infilling of the Holy Ghost. We have so much to be thankful for.

Your about as happy as you make up your mind to be.

My Father is more than kind to me, far more merciful than I deserve, and He wants the best for me.

I am glad that He doesn't give me my everything I think I want when I want it.

I am glad that when He does give me the things I want, He does it in a way that is just so much more fulfilling. When I follow Him, He brings me joy and peace and I'm made glad in my decision to follow Him and His Ways.

When I stray, He lets me know-- but He doesn't throw me away.

He loves me and I'll never know why-- but I am so glad that He loves me.

[AreYouReady?]

I love the faith building stories Sister Nona always told. She was one of a kind.

I have a few of my own

[Sam]

This is an old story and I’m sure some of you have heard it or read it before. Some of you may have heard Sis. Nona Freeman tell it herself. I love this story. It shows the importance of obeying God and doing what He tells us whether we understand it at the time and whether we see the results of our actions or not.

This is from a book titled “Beloved Wide Spot” by Nona Freeman, copyright 1989. The book tells the story of their pastoring in Rosepine, LA where they served for almost 7 years until they left in March 1948 as missionaries to South Africa. When they came to Rosepine, her husband Bug was 23 and Nona was 24. Bug’s real name was Elpho Letris Freeman but he earned the name of Bug because of the strange way he crawled as a baby. Bug and Nona were married in 1937 and started preaching a couple of years later. They evangelized and pastored including the 7 years in Rosepine. They served in Africa for 41 years. Bug died in 1999 and Nona died December 26, 2009 at the age of 93.


An irresponsible urge became an insistent voice, “Go stand on the front porch!” No self-respecting house wife would waste time to stand on her front porch at ten o’clock in the morning with dishes to wash and beds to make. What could be so important about our porch that was little more than an enlarged step? The voice like a broken record insisted until it propelled me out on our porch. After standing there feeling more foolish by the second, I saw a car slowly approaching and recognized the driver; a man we prayed for and witnessed to frequently. I smiled and waved to him with surprising enthusiasm; he responded with a slight nod. I continued to wave until the car went out of sight. Back in the kitchen I wondered, “Now what was that all about?”

Many years later, when we made a visit to Rosepine a smiling man came to greet me and asked a question that recalled the incident vividly. ‘”Sister Freeman, do you remember when I drove by the parsonage one morning about ten o’clock and saw you standing on your porch? You smiled and waved at me as though I was the most important person in the world. Why?’”

I answered, “All I know is the Lord interrupted my dish washing and told me to go stand on the porch and wave when you drove by.” He said, “What you do not know is I was on my way to the gravel pit with my gun beside me on the front seat. Everything had gone wrong for me. I decided I had nothing to live for and nobody cared whether I lived or died. I planned to blow my brains out at the gravel pit; I went to see a man about a job and he hired me. Now I am serving the Lord. For a long time I’ve wanted to say, ‘Thanks for caring.’”

Update from Sandra Freeman, Nona’s daughter:
Several years later Mom and I were at a church in Nettleton, Mississippi when a lady fell crying into my Mom's arms telling how thankful she was for her obedience to Jesus. She then introduced herself as this man’s niece and told how her uncle witnessed to his family because of the wave incident. Most if not all of their family came into the church as a result of her waving on the porch. Everything Mom did was blessed in the name of Jesus. That wave was blessed and today still reaps blessings from that obedience to the name of Jesus!

[Sam]

The article below, “Pioneering in the Danger Zone” is from the October 1974 Pentecostal Herald, pages 5 and 18. It tells how the Gospel came to a small isolated area in the Ozarks and what its effects were. The man used to bring the Gospel to those folks was Samuel C. McClain (1889-1969).

A few years ago I read Bro. McClains’ autobiography which is titled, “Seek First the Kingdom.” It has a copyright date of 2005 and is distributed through the Pentecostal Publishing House. Back in the 1960’s A.L. Clanton was doing some research for a book which he later published as “United We Stand.” Bro. McClain had sent him some hand written material of recollections of his ministry and included a hand written autobiography which had been filed away and not published. Robin Johnston discovered the manuscript years later (after Bro. McClain’s death) and developed it into the book “Seek First the Kingdom.”

In his autobiography, Bro. McClain tells that he was saved at the age of 14 and joined a local Baptist church and was called to preach at the age of 16. On May 25, 1912 he received the Holy Ghost baptism at a revival meeting in a school house. He then preached about that experience in school houses and brush arbors and was ordained by Bro. Howard Goss in August, 1914. The account below, which appeared in the 1974 Pentecostal Herald is adapted from pages 33-37 of the book and happened soon after his ordination. It was about a year and a half later (January 16,1916) that Bro. McClain was baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. This story reads like an account in the Book of Acts.

Pioneering in the Danger Zone
by Samuel C. McClain (deceased)

In September of 1914 Brother Clarence T. Craine heard that the people in a valley beyond Blue Mountain of the Ozarks greatly needed the gospel. He went there to plan a revival, but was informed that no preacher was allowed to let the sun set on him in that community.

After I finished a revival in southern Arkansas, I happened to meet my brother Lee, who had moved into this isolated community to graze his cattle on the grassy slopes of the mountains. He told me of the needs of the people for the gospel, and I consented to go there and preach. He informed me that unless I carried out his instructions, I could not get in there.

On September 10, 1914, following Lee's instructions, I took my father and mother in a two horse wagon, and went to visit him. I had put on some worn clothes, an old hat, and scuffed shoes. This was so I would not appear "stuck up" to the people. This worked fine. The people liked Lee because he enjoyed hunting, and went along with them. And they liked me, because I was not "stuck up." But I was a preacher!

Lee said to the leader, Billy Johnson, "I have not heard Sam preach in a long time. Suppose we make a party line call, and ask everyone to come to the school house tonight and hear Sam preach." The house was full. I closed by saying that my father and mother would be visiting Lee over the week-end, and, since I seldom missed a night preaching, I would be preaching every night. Everyone was invited to come.

The men had not expected this. After service they immediately went into counsel. "What can we do?" they asked one another. "Sam is Lee's brother, and we can't run him out." They decided that all the men would go deer hunting, every man taking his wagon, so the women would have no way to get to church. But in the first service the women had become
interested. So they simply walked to church, starting early in order to make it on time. They walked from two to four miles. One wagon had been left, so they used it; along with my wagon and my brother's, to bring the children in. A nice crowd of women, children, two elderly men, and my own folks attended. In preaching, I told of a deaf-mute being healed in South Arkansas, of other healings, and of the Holy Ghost Baptism.

A Wonderful Healing
A widow had a four-year-old son who was very low with double pneumonia. On Thursday the doctor told her that there was no chance for the boy to live. Several of the women who had heard me preach advised the widow to bring the child to the meeting. That night, before we began the service, they brought the child to me on a bolster, carried by a strong mountaineer woman. They said, "Sam ( everyone there was called by his first name), we want you to heal this child." I asked, "Do you believe that God will heal the child?" They answered, "Sure; God can do anything."

When we prayed, great drops of perspiration popped out on the child. Several of the women had promised one another, "If the child is healed, I am going to pray, and get the Holy Ghost baptism." I had been out in the woods a few times praying, "Oh, Lord, send those men back at any cost." I knew that there were some very tough men in the community. Lee had told me that Billy Johnson was the leader, and that his word was final. Lee took me up the road and showed me a shoe nailed to a tree. He said, "A man wearing nice clothes came into the community, and would not tell his business." He added, "There is his shoe, and that is his grave under that walnut tree." In spite of this, I knew that the Bible said, "He that believeth on him shall not be afraid."

The First Altar Call
On Friday night I felt led to give an invitation. To my great surprise, it appeared that half of the adults came forward for prayer. There was no one but my wife and me to pray for them. But they needed little help. They really prayed. Two received the Holy Ghost, and nearly all the others had their sins forgiven. They all seemed very happy.

God answered prayer; on Saturday, here came the men. They had to come in to care for the deer meat, and for the honey they had taken from wild bees. They had agreed, however, "If that preacher is still there, we will not stay one night." But every woman was telling about the revival, and about the child being healed and going out to play the next day. Billy Johnson's wife, Mary, and John Spear's wife (also named Mary) were the two who had received the Holy Ghost. The men decided to stay one night, and that was all that God needed. The women did not come to seek the Lord that night, for fear of their husbands, but the two Marys came forward fearlessly and prayed for their husbands. This praying continued for about two hours.

Billy Johnson was sitting near a pallet on which his three children lay asleep. He was so angry that his face and neck were red. His thoughts on what he was going to do to his wife and to "that" preacher had him so occupied that he failed to realize his baby was sick with a high fever. He took the fretting child up, but kept a close watch on his wife as she so earnestly prayed. When she finished praying, and went to her husband, he said sharply, "Get those kids, and let's get home." She replied, "Why, Billy this baby is sick; take it up and let Sam pray for it." He answered, "I don't believe in no such; let's get home." But she said, "I will, then." We prayed, the child was healed, and started perspiring shen she handed it back to Billy. "See, it is healed," she said. From his pocket Billy pulled a large red handkerchief and wiped perspiration from the child's face.

Billy told me later how he fussed at Mary. "What made you act as you did tonight?" he asked her. She answered, "I was praying for you, and if you don't get right with God, you are going to hell."

Well, Billy couldn't sleep. He knew his wife was praying, and he knew the baby had been healed. He said to himself, "She said I was going to hell, and I guess I am. Maybe I had better get right with God." The remainder of the night found Billy at the barn praying. He was our only seeker at the altar Sunday morning at the close of the service.

Billy owned a "moonshine" still, and made whiskey. This stood between him and God. I had called for a men's prayer meeting, under a certain tree. I think that every man in the community was there, with the exception of Billy and one more man. They had gone with axes to destroy the still and the barrels of whisky.

Lee and Billy Pray Through
I had planned that after the grove meeting with the men, I would spend an hour alone with God before the evening service. But Lee was under conviction, and followed me. Soon he prayed through, and we both were shouting and jumping. We did not know that Billy Johnson had destroyed his still, and was praying only two hundred yards below us. But about the time we started shouting, Billy prayed through. He came up the mountain side, leaping over huckleberry bushes and shouting to the top of his voice. Lee ran to meet him, and what a shouting time they had together!

The revival had started! The leader and his wife were on the Lord's side, and nearly everyone was under conviction. We baptized seventeen in the first baptismal service, and twenty-seven in the second, including my brother Lee and his wife. One or more had the Holy Ghost in every home except four. We had to take my father and mother home, and then conduct a revival in the Methodist Church in Summerfield, Louisiana, so we announced another revival, to begin thirty days from that time. Billy Johnson was appointed leader, and exhorter of the Word. The last I heard of him he was preaching in the backwoods of the Rocky Mountains.

[Sam]

Fear thou not; for I am with thee:
be not dismayed; for I am thy God:
I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee;
yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
Isaiah 41:10

[Tim Rutledge]

Sam, you mentioned Br Rex Dyson baptizing Elvis Presley. Br Dyson was the evangelist preaching in Niles MI the night I recieved the Holy Ghost, in the summer of 1975.

[Sam]

Originally Posted by Tim Rutledge

Sam, you mentioned Br Rex Dyson baptizing Elvis Presley. Br Dyson was the evangelist preaching in Niles MI the night I recieved the Holy Ghost, in the summer of 1975.

Niles, Michigan? You've mentioned that church here before. At one time it was the headquarters church for The Church of Jesus Christ Pentecostal Faith. Bishop G.R. Brock was the Presiding Bishop and he pastored a church in Indianpolis, IN. I preached for him there in Indianapolis in the late summer/early fall of 1959. See attached picture of my wife and me singing there. About 3 months later our first child was born. The church was in an old theater. Bishop and Sis. Brock were living in a garage next door to the house of some church members. It was just one room and Pat and I spent the night there with them after I preached. Their "bedroom" was a corner of the garage curtained off. Pat and I slept on an uncomfortable couch that folded out into a bed. There she was about six months pregnant and 18 years old and I was 21. We didn't even have a car and came back to Cincinnati on a Greyhound bus the next day. Sis. Alta Johnson was the secretary of the organization and she pastored the church on Fort Street after her husband died. I was at that church in 1958 or 1959 for a convention. I belonged to that organization for a couple years in the early 1960's until I let my license expire after starting to attend an ALJC church here in the Cincinnati area.

[Sam]

This is something I've posted on facebook and sent out as an email to a lot of people.

I believe in the Church -- God’s Church, the Body of Christ, the Church of Jesus Christ or whatever you may know it by. Jesus called it “My Church” and “the Church” and promised to “build it up” or to edify it. So Jesus Christ has a Church -- His Church -- and many of us are privileged to be a part of it. I’m tired of hearing people knock it, criticize it, or act like their tiny part of it is the whole thing. I’m tired of people thinking that it is irrelevant or that it is failing or losing the battle. I’m proud to be a part of it.

I saw some inspiring words on Facebook by a young pastor that I respect very highly. He ministers in California and I would like to pass his words on. He gave me permission to share this.

I still believe in a church where grace is real and not just a song, where Peter can deny Christ with vulgarities and his ministry still be received, even better than ever, just weeks later as the featured speaker the day the church was birthed. I still believe in a church that celebrates the meth addict, the single mom, and the pregnant teen even if the Luke 15 older brother is pissed off about it. I still believe in a church that can buck the trend of 90%+ of American church growth resulting from people changing churches, and instead, proclaim that, like Jesus, we are here not for the whole but for the sick. I still believe in a church that desires to make disciples, not republicans, and I still believe in a church that is a spiritual emergency room, not a business enterprise. I still believe in a church that will be raised up out of the culture rather than secluded from culture, and I'm absolutely convinced that "The Church" despite the fact that my most agonizing moments in life are a result of it, is the most wonderful living organism on the face of the earth. I refuse to believe in the word "hopeless". I refuse to believe in the word "Impossible." I refuse to believe that I cannot stand on the rock upon which Christ will build His Church, a church that impacts culture so much that the gates of hell cannot prevail against it.