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habakkuk3
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 Remarkable Miracles by G.C. Bevington

Here's a testimony from this wonderful book from G.C. Bevington who considered himself a "holiness evangelist." (I apologize for the length but it's a worthy read...)

This one will complete the major experiences.
I was holding a meeting in Indiana. The weather was very cold, about thirty below zero, and there was plenty of snow. People came for miles in the old-fashioned sleds, with two horses, and bells could be heard for miles.

Some came as far as thirty-five miles, as good sleighing rendered it easy on the horses that were not worked much at that time of the year. Many came to see the sights, and many of those who came from a distance got sanctified.
Well, several had gotten down and been actually saved, four of those who came from a distance got sanctified.

Well, as the meeting progressed, these four said several times that I must come over into their neighborhood, to which I paid no attention as my hands were full there. But they kept urging me until finally I said, “Well, where do you live? How far from here?” “About twenty-five miles. We have a church over there, M. E., and you must come over.” So as the time came to close this meeting, I said, “Well, have you the permission of your pastor for me to hold a meeting in said church?” “Oh, that is all right as the church is on father’s place. He built it.” “Well,” I said, “it belongs to the M. E. Conference, and you would have to get permission.” So I went up to my room and got on my face. I lay there for twenty-six hours, and then felt led to go over.
Next morning here came three of their leaders after me, but no call from their pastor. I sent them back, and he came over next day, and said, “I understand that some of our people have been attending your meeting over here and that they want you to come over there with us. I understand that you preach holiness.” “Yes, as hot as I can.” He said, “We are all John Wesley Methodists.” “Well,” I said, “I haven’t been running into them of late. I don’t find many John Wesley Methodists.” He said, “Do you preach holiness to sinners?” I said, “I preach just as God gives me the message.

Some places it is on holiness as a second work of grace, and then at others holiness is seldom mentioned.” “Well, we would be very glad to have you come over, as it would please some of our people; but we consider it very unwise to preach holiness to sinners. We would suggest that you preach regeneration to the sinners, as that is what they need; and then if you wanted to we could have some afternoon for holiness.” I said, “Is this merely a suggestion or is it to take the form of a command or desire?” He said, “I think it is the only way we could permit you to come over.”


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Ed Pugh

 2006/7/8 23:40Profile
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“Well”, I said, “I can’t come over on those terms at all.” “How would it do to have one night in the week for holiness?”

I said, “I could not agree at that, as it might be all holiness as a second work.” And I said, “I could not come over unless I was to have complete charge and control, preach as long as God said so and just as He prescribed. I could not have any restrictions what. ever. I might be led to call on you to pray and I might not.” “Well,” he said, “isn’t that bordering on fanaticism?” “You can term it whatever you wish. That is where I would have to stand should I come over.” So he went back, and said: “Brethren, we can’t have that fellow over here. Why, he is a genuine crank; he isn’t going to let me have anything to do with the meeting, not even to pray, and may not allow me to be on my own platform. Oh, no, we can’t have him here.”

Well these four said, “If we can’t have him in the church, we will fix up a tobacco stripping house, seat it, and put stoves in it. It will hold about as many as the church. We feel that man ought to come here, as souls prayed through every night over there; and you have been here three years and not a soul has been regenerated.”

Well the pastor saw that this would never do, so he gave in and sent for me. I went over, and opened fire on his 300 members. The pastor had said that I ought not to preach holiness to sinners. I said that this doctrine of freedom from sin seems to please the sinner pretty well. He said that they had members and all were saved, of course. Well, I thought that the four who had been over and gotten salvation and were then sanctified, were a pretty safe sample of the whole 350.

After the third sermon, the pastor said that the Ladies’ Aid were planning for quite an extensive program for Christmas and that they could not locate a place for the work only at the church. He also said that they were quite sorry, as they would dearly love to have the meeting go on; but to please the Ladies’ Aid we would have to close it. Well, though I had papers signed by him, that permitted me to remain in the church, yet I could not. Being permitted to preach the fourth night, I announced the action of the pastor, and the “aids.” A man jumped up said, “We will go over to the schoolhouse.” We, however, put it to a vote as to whether we should go into the schoolhouse; and it was said that every hand went up except that of the pastor and his wife. Even his son and daughter raised their hands. So we went over there the next night.


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Ed Pugh

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The next day this pastor hired five boys to cut up the seats, so as to stop the meeting. He gave them two dollars apiece, and they went at it in good shape. The board came in and said, “The boys are cutting up the seats badly,” so we were requested to stop the meeting there; but the people had gotten another place. That night when I went to my lodging place, I found my grips out by the gate, and the house darkened. I took that for a pretty good hint and picked up my grips and started out, like Abraham, not knowing where to go. I could have gone, I suppose, to any of those four families, but did not know where they lived, and God did not want me to go there, as He had a better place for me. By my staying where I did He got more glory than if I had found any of these. Well, I kept trudging on in the snow, and it was very cold — so cold that men were cutting solid ice twenty-two inches thick out of a pond. I soon got tired, set the grips down, and said, “Lord, where am I going?” “What’s that to thee? Follow thou me” was all I got in answer. I said, “Right”, picked up the grips and started on.

The first thing I knew I was in a sort of lane. Great furrows had been cut out in the road as, in the fall, they had drawn corn out there and made deep ruts that were filled up with snow; hence I could not see them and got many falls, cutting my flesh, so that my face was bleeding in several places; also my hands were cold. I said again, “O God, where am I going?” and again came the answer, “What’s that to thee?” So on I trudged, and soon saw a great hill seemingly in the road. As I was watching as best I could to avoid those ruts, I forgot the hill and soon ran into it; but it proved to be a straw stack. A voice said, “This is the place.” I said, “All right,” threw off my coat, and went to pulling straw, at which I got nicely warmed up. I pulled straw until I was back in the stack some twelve feet, about three feet from the ground so as to be warm. Then I packed the straw all out, took in my grips, put on my coat, used one of the grips for a pillow, dropped down on my back, and said, “Well, praise God, I don’t reckon Jesus ever had much better than this, and probably most of the time not nearly so good.” At that the straw stack was lighted up so that I saw the most beautiful sight I ever saw. It looked just like crystallized straw, nearly as large as my little finger, lying in all positions, crossing each other and forming a beautiful net work.
Well, I was frightened, as I feared that I had gotten a match lighted while pulling straw; my fears was soon banished, for I threw up my hands and there were the cold, damp straws.

Oh, beloved, I will never be able, this side of Heaven, to draw a worthy picture of that scene and also of the dazzlings going on down in the soul! I have often thought that was a foretaste of what Heaven is going to be. We are taught down here to view things according to laws.


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Ed Pugh

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The appearance of those straws did not allow the working of natural laws, as each was apart from the others, and they did not appear to touch one another. I have thought many times that is the trouble with us: We must see things down here as under the lights of natural laws, while God often breaks through the natural order of things completely setting the natural aside; hence we fail to get the real import of His designs. That experience in that cold straw stack has been a great help to me many and many a time, enabling me to accept things that before I would have rejected on philosophical grounds. While God works through natural laws very much, yet I have found that He has special lessons for us which go far beyond the natural laws. I have learned that ruts are dangerous channels to travel in; and God wants us so pliable that He can twist us up, or throw us here or yonder, and that we will recognize His hand though in other garbs or along other lines than those in which similar incidents have appeared. There is no doubt but that God would give us wonderful revelations if He could get us in condition to receive them; I am well assured that the deeper lessons which God wants us to have are all in line of the apparently ridiculous. They are not on the public highway. The casual traveler never sees them, for they are not on his route. ‘Tis on the unreasonable, out-of-the-ordinary route that these lessons are to be learned — generally routes similar to my getting into this straw stack.

I learned invaluable lessons from that. As I told this to dear Revelation John Fleming one time, he burst out crying, and said, “Brother Bevington, I would have given a hundred dollars to see that straw stack when it was so luminously lit up.” Had I appealed to reason as I came up against that stack, I would have taken the ground that to go in there when the thermometer was registering below twenty would be altogether out of reason. Everything would have stood against such proceeding. I would have produced about this sort of an argument: God has set forth His laws and demands of us obedience, relative to taking care of our bodies. So I can’t accept this as the place where God wants me, as He has called me to preach, and He said that the laborer is worthy of his hire. And I am His child; and, Mr. Devil, I am not going to allow you to run me into such a place as this, on such extravagant lines, to bring on a tremendous cold and, probably, pneumonia which would more than likely cause a premature death. So I could quite logically have reasoned this all out; though had I done so, I would have lost one of the grandest lessons of my life. So we need to get where we will be willing to break all laws in order to get some of the private lessons the Lord has for us. Just those few words of acquiescence to His will, when I said, “Well, I suppose Jesus never had a better bed than this,” gave me one of the grandest visions I have ever beheld. Yes, those few words spoke volumes which have enabled me to store up great quantities of knowledge of His will relative to me.


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Ed Pugh

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Well, now I will proceed with the marvels of God. He will open up great and unheard of things, if we will just allow Him to get us where these great and unheard of things are in operation, or where He can consistently operate them without knocking others of His lambs flat. So while this great manifestation of glory lasted only a short time, yet there were raptures of exceeding great joy which came in waves one after another so that I lay there wrapped in great splendor until, when I struck a match and looked at my watch, I was surprised to see that it was 4:30 a. m. Well, I turned over and went to sleep; and when I woke up and struck a match, I found that it was 5:30 p. m. I crawled out, shook off the chaff, took my handkerchief for a towel after washing well in the snow, and started back to the house that had been offered us to continue the meeting in. I found twenty-five people there, with saws and horses. They had been drawing logs and sawing them into blocks twenty-two inches long for seats. Both rooms were nearly seated. I said to the man of the house, “I suppose these two rooms are about all you have.” “Well,” he said, “these will hold more than the schoolhouse.” “Is there a room upstairs?” “Why, what do you want to go up there for? ‘Tis a sort of unfinished attic.” “Why, I want a place to pray,” I answered. I spied a door on the ceiling, and said, “Can’t I get up there?” He said, “Why, I suppose so; but there isn’t any floor, and it will be cold.” “Let me get up there”. So he got a ladder, and up I went. I got close to the large chimney, across the joist, and burst into great sobs. I just lay there and wept, and could hear a noise downstairs, supposing that they were finishing up seating. I struck a match and found it was 9:30 p. m.

I then got up and went downstairs and found over a hundred people waiting for me. I had no message, but only a great burden that souls might be brought under such conviction as would enable them to see their real condition and fly to the Son of God for refuse. As there was some unoccupied space where I landed from the attic, I dropped down on my face. In about thirty minutes the preacher’s son came, and said, Aren’t you going to preach, as there are over a hundred people here waiting.” I exhorted him and the rest to prayer. He said, “There is no one here that can do any good at prayer, as you have spoiled all of us; the only prayer that any of us ought to pray is the prayer of repentance.” Well, I thought that he was about right. I got up, and said, “Brethren, this great battle must be fought out on our faces. I have no message to preach. You have had too much preaching. I have only a burden of prayer that each of you may be brought face to face with your real condition as God sees you, and fly for your lives to the Son of God who has made provision for your complete deliverance from sin.”

At that I crawled out of the window near me, made a bee line for my hospitable quarters, and got on my face to plead, weep, moan, groan, and wrestle.


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When I struck a match, I found that it was 5:30 a. m. I soon went to sleep, and woke up at 4:30 p. m. Then I crawled out, took another wash in the snow (it was still twenty below zero) and I went to the house, where I found seventy-five people. More than twenty were down praying as if they meant business; some on their faces sobbing, others kneeling and praying, others with heads up, pleading and weeping, and others walking where they could find room. But all that crowd pleading for mercy, mind you, were those saved people over at the church; and among the crowd were the son and daughter of the pastor. I raised the window and crawled in, as there was no room to get in at the door, and climbed up the ladder into the attic. I got on my face across those sleepers, close to the chimney as a rousing fire below was keeping the chimney warm.
By and by up came the man of the house and said, “‘Tis after eight, and they all want you to come down and preach.” I said, “Tell them all to go to praying.” “Well, I am afraid they will get tired of this way, and all leave, and not return, and all this work here will be lost.” See, here was more logic to contend with, but I remained there. I heard them praying and singing. At 10:00 p. m., I went down and found about forty in real soul agony, especially the pastor’s son and daughter, both of whom had been testifying to being saved for several years. I could see that God was working; hence, how foolish it would be for me to take the work out of His hands. So I just raised the window and slipped out and up to my private quarters, to plead with God for them. I got on my face and struggled, agonized, wrestled, wept, and held on believingly, really expecting God to work wonders. I struck a match and found it was 6:00 a. m.; then turned over and went to sleep, and woke up at 5:20 p. m. I went out, had another good wash in the snow, shook myself, and started for the meeting.

I found about two hundred people there, most of them in great misery. One man and wife met me outside, and began to tell me about the trouble they were having with their bad neighbor. I said, “Go inside, get down on your faces and plead for mercy, throw open your hearts to God, get honest before Him, and let Him examine you.” They did so. Another came to me, saying “What shall I do?” I said, “Get right with God”. “Why, I am a good member here in the church.” I said, “Get right with God. Repent. Get yourself properly fixed up, then matters can more easily be adjusted.”

Two sisters were the next to unload the terrible meanness of their neighbors, saying, “We want you to pray for them, as they are a terror to the whole neighborhood.” I said, “You two are the ones who need praying for. Never mind those neighbors; get right yourselves. Go through with God.” “Why, Mr. Bevington, we are members in good standing in this church here.”


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“Well, you are all the worse for that.” “We want to get our children saved; my son and daughter-in-law and daughter and son-in-law.”
I said, “Go on in, get down on your faces and deal with God directly, not with Bevington.” “Well, there is no room inside.” “Make room, go into the kitchen.” “Why, that is crammed full.” I said “Go in, go in.” So I left those self-righteous complainers, and went to my window, crawled in, and slipped upstairs, with but few seeing me.
Soon the man of the house came and said that about three hundred people were there. It was then about 9:30 p. m. I went down and found the man of the house, his son and daughter and wife were down with many others, pleading. The son came, crying, and said, “Oh, won’t you preach? I am so miserable, I need help. Oh, please help. Tell me what to do. And my sister there is also weeping as if her heart were broken.” I found no room only at the ladder, but stood there, and took the text, “Prepare to meet thy God;” and I am satisfied that never before nor since have I delivered such a message as was given there in forty minutes. Everyone was writhing in great agony; some walking and screaming. Only about sixty could kneel, but they were doing good work; and oh, how God did send out the lightning bolts in great torrents! Feeling that I had done all God wanted me to do there, I hoisted the window and made for my commodious apartment.
I got on my face, and could do nothing but cry and groan and plead. I struck a match, to find that it was 4:00 a. m.; then I went to sleep, and slept like a baby until 6:30. After taking another cool bath, I started back to the house, and found about sixty there.
I stopped at the ladder, and soon the pastor came in. Of all the tongue lashing that a man ever got, he poured on me. He called me about all the names in the catalogue; but as I was somewhat accustomed to those vocal expressions, they did not disturb my equilibrium, and I was speechless through it all. He finally wound up by ordering every one of his members out of there, with the command never to return. Well, all went out but his son and the man and family of the house and another man and family — I think there were about sixteen left. Well, I felt like preaching, and so I did, on the judgment and wrath of God. The son and man and wife and the other man prayed through by 4:00 a. m. We had a blessed time, and that son did some wonderful preaching. The pastor, the night before, had taken his daughter by the dress collar and dragged her out, threatening to punish her severely if she ever returned. The son was a little bit too big for that kind of treatment, so he had to go off without the son.


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Well, I slipped out, went to my hotel, wept until noon, then went to sleep, wakened up at 8:00 p. m., and went out for another good dry bath in my large toilet room. I went down and found that only twenty-two were there, but all were down pleading for mercy, except those that had gotten through, and they were seeking sanctification. The pastor’s daughter was there. I felt led to remain there all night with them, so I remained until 3:00 a. m., and then went upstairs. Soon the woman of the house came up, and said, “What shall I do? I think I will throw all those blocks out, and clean the whole thing out, as I am convinced now that I am all right. The pastor says I am, as I have been a member here for years. You are just making fools out of all of us, my husband and son and daughter.” I said, “Woman, get down those steps as quickly as you can, and go to screaming for mercy. You may be in hell in twenty minutes.” Down she went, and I followed; and I tell you she changed her tune, and in forty minutes she struck fire, and did some fine preaching there until after daylight. I slipped off back to my headquarters.
Now this brings me up to the ninth morning. I had not had a mouthful to eat, and had lain on straw and sleepers. I might mention that among the many names given to me by the pastor on that notable night was that of a hypnotist. Well, that word was not used where I went to school so I was somewhat interested to ascertain what I had filled as hypnotist, filled in the annals of incidents, so I wrote the word down as I stood there by the ladder, intending to investigate a hypnotist’s standing and profession. Well, upon consulting the best of authority, I failed to find his whereabouts, so I let that part of the tirade drop from the anathemas that plunged from that pastor’s storehouse.

Well, when I returned, the man of the house met me outside, and said, “Brother Bevington, where are you stopping?” I said, “None of your business.” “Now, see here, it is my business, and I am going to make it so.

I went today to Reynolds’ where I supposed you were stopping, and they said that you were not there. I went to all the places that there would be any likelihood of your being, and none of them knew where you are stopping.

Now, Sir, tell me.” I said, “None of your business; go on in there and pray through and get the Holy Ghost.” “No, Sir, I’m not going in until you tell me.” So I just pointed in the direction of the straw stack. “Wife, this man has been sleeping, or staying, in that straw stack,” and he capered around there about all he dared to as a seeker of the Holy Ghost. “Well,” he said, “where have you been getting your meals?” I just pointed to the skies. Then he yelled, “This man hasn’t had a mouthful to eat these two weeks.” Of course he overrated by three days.


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He said, “Come in and get something to eat,” but I declined as it was about 9:00 p. m. I went in and about a hundred were there. I see that I have made a mistake. This was the eighth morning instead of the ninth. Well, that morning, at three o’clock, the daughter got through, and she said, “Now, Brother Bevington I disobeyed my father for the first time in my life. I just had to come here, as I feared I would lose my soul.” She said, “Now you pray that I may be willing and able to endure the punishment,” as she knew something of the temper of her father. I said, “All right, I will go up into the attic and plead your case. You be loyal to what you have received.” So up I went.

She and her brother had about a mile to walk. He was seeking sanctification, but as he had a whole lot to undo, it was a somewhat tedious matter. We plead that the experiences of the two would so melt up the father that he would be compelled to surrender, and at 5:30 a. m., I felt the burden all gone. Light broke in, and I raised up off the sleepers, praising God for the daughter’s victory.

So I went to the straw stack, this being the ninth morning; and it was that night that I was located by the man of the house, and I was listening to his quizzing as to where I slept, when here came the pastor, bareheaded, with the daughter and son in a cutter, and the sleigh bells ringing. He was being sifted, as the son and daughter went into the room where he was sleeping (he supposed she was upstairs in bed). She called him, and said, “Father, I had to disobey you last night. I just had to go up there or go to hell, and now, Father, I am ready and prepared for my punishment.” The son was standing at her side, with head bowed, pleading for the salvation of his father, and that this should be the means to that end. “Well, go on to bed.

Let me alone,” he said. “No, Father, I want my punishment. 1 disobeyed you. I am ready.” At that he gave a yell, bounded out of bed, fell on his knees, and went to crying for mercy. The son and daughter dropped on their faces; and in ten minutes the mother climbed out, and said, “Oh, children, pray for me, too, as I need just what I believe you both have.” So they wrestled all day until about three o’clock when the mother prayed through. The father did not get through.
He asked us back to the church that night, but as both rooms were full (as many had heard of the pastor’s actions and came back) we held the meeting there that night, and I preached from “If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creature,” and so on. God gave me a blessed message. The mother prayed through at 4:00 a. m., for sanctification; but the father did not get through, and as soon as it was daylight, he hitched up and went to every one of those men and women whom he called out of there, and asked forgiveness. It took him three days to make the circuit, but he did it. He said that at the first house he went to, he asked forgiveness and invited the people out to the meetings, and started out; but a voice said, “And is that all?” Well, he looked around; and as he saw not a person near, and not being used to the voice of God, was puzzled. By the time he reached the gate, he heard the same voice with the same words. He said that he had to go back and fall on his knees before them and ask forgiveness. H e gladly knelt and asked forgiveness of all of the three hundred.


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Well, we went up to the church and spent three weeks there; and as my straw stack experience had capacitated me for a good meal, I had it at the parsonage, but after that ate only one meal a day, during the three weeks.
If I felt clear to tell you, it would no doubt be refreshing for me to relate many of the incidents which occurred during those three weeks; but will cut the account short by saying that I preached only two sermons, and they were on the last day of the meeting. I lay on my face on the platform day and night. The pastor’s wife, son, and daughter prayed through and got sanctified. There were several incidents in his seeking that were of interest, as it took five days and nights to kill him out. He just rolled on the floor, perspired freely, made restitutions, and put up in a five days’ struggle; but he got through and was a good witness for several years. I saw him at the Cincinnati Camp three successive years, and on the platform he delivered good messages of full salvation. Yes, if all that was said and done were recorded it would make an interesting volume for all to read. They said that over three hundred people fell at the altar, and that someone was getting through most all the time, day and night. Wonderful was the preaching of many who prayed through. Restitutions were made in many instances.
Now I see I have left out a whole lot of this five weeks campaign, but I guess this will suffice. But I want you to remember that all this time that I was in the stack it was twenty below zero, and that while trudging up there the first night, I cut my face and hands severely by falling on the frozen ruts; but that neither from them nor from sleeping in the stack I ever caught cold, nor was incapacitated in the least from struggling for souls, and all the sleep I got in the five weeks was in the daytime.


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