"But Peter and John answered and said unto them, Whether it be right
in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye. For
we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard." (Acts 4:19-20)
"And a vision appeared to Paul in the night; There stood a man of
Macedonia, and prayed him, saying, Come over into Macedonia, and help us."
(Acts 16:9)
"Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud
of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so
easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before
us," (Hebrews 12:1)
"Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest
send him to my father's house: For I have five brethren; that he may testify
unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment." (Luke 16:27-28)
Thirty-eight years ago last August 30th, a nervous, frightened 33-year-old
Texas boy became pastor of a downtown First Baptist Church of Hammond,
Indiana. There is no way for me to describe how formal it was. No piano
was allowed to be played on Sunday morning. No congregational songleader
was allowed to stand up and wave his hands and no gospel songs were allowed
on Sunday morning. You could sing "Jesus Saves" or "Rescue The Perishing"
on Sunday night, but not on Sunday morning. The former pastor preached
in striped pants and a scissor-tail coat. I do not know of an Episcopalian
church any more formal than First Baptist Church was.
When the pulpit a committee interviewed me, they asked what I thought
about the Sunday morning service. I said, "I think it stinks." They said,
"What kind of a Sunday morning service would you have if you became our
pastor?" I said, "It would be more like a Billy Sunday Revival Campaign."
The wealthiest man in Hammond was on the board of trustees. Several
months after I became pastor, he came to me. "Reverend, I want to talk
to you. We like you fine. We think you're a good guy. But the truth is,
we have a problem with your preaching. Ever since you've been here, the
pressure's been on. Every Sunday morning and Sunday night, and Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday it's soulwinning. The
pressure's on all the time. Before you came, we use to have a revival meeting
every 6 months or so and bring a fellow in to have an evangelistic crusade.
But since you've been here it's been that way all the time. Every Sunday
is just like one of those revival meetings."
He said, "Look at me, I'm a nervous wreck. I shake when I come to church
anymore. You've ruined our worship service." (If I could, I'd ruin every
formal worship service in America next Sunday morning.) "I'm not the only
person who's nervous -- this church is full of nervous people. It's soulwinning
on Sunday. It's soulwinning on Monday. It's soulwinning on Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Then we start all over again on Sunday.
Last Sunday morning we sang 52 stanzas of 'Just As I Am'. No wonder we're
nervous! Something's got to change!" I said, "Come back on Sunday night
and I'll give you my answer."
That Sunday night I preached the message I am preaching to you tonight.
I'm telling you exactly what I told my people 38 years ago. I said, 'Ladies
and gentlemen, a man came to me last week and told me that you're nervous.
He said that you were concerned because we're having soulwinning on Sunday,
and soulwinning on Monday, and soulwinning on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday,
Friday, and Saturday. I'd like to tell you tonight why it's that way, and
why it's going to be that way as long as I am the pastor of this church,
whether that is one more week or 50 more years."
A CALL FROM WITHIN
In the first place, there's a call from within. There is something inside
of me that says I have to go soulwinning. "I cannot but speak the things
I have seen and heard." I have no choice. It's burning inside of me - a
call from within that compels me to stress soulwinning in everything that
we do.
This call from within came to me many years ago. When I was a boy, I
was the most timid boy in the church. When I was 17 years old, I weighed
92 pounds. I now weigh...I finally got your attention, didn't I? I now
weigh MORE than 92 pounds! (Once my doctor put me on a diet, and I gained
15 pounds on 1,000 calories a day. I wonder if it could be that 7,000 calories
at night that caused the problem?)
On my 17th birthday I weighed 92 pounds and I was the most timid fellow
in the church. They called me little Jackie-boy Hyles. I failed public
speaking in high school. I could not make the ball team. I was too little
to get a date. I didn't get to be in the senior play. I was an introvert.
Most of the people in my church had never heard me say a single word.
One Sunday after the morning service, one of the deacons, Jesse Cobb,
said, "Hey, Jackie-boy. Would you like to go soulwinning with me this afternoon?"
I said, "Uh, J-J-Jesse, y-y-you know I c-c-couldn't go soulwinning." He
said, "Jack, you won't have to say anything, I just need a partner to give
me some moral support. My partner is on vacation, and I just need someone
to go with me. you won't have to say a word."
The first door we knocked on was the home of a high school football
player named Kenneth Florence. Jesse Cobb was 5'4" tall, and I was shorter
yet. He must have weighed 120, and I weighed 92 pounds. The two of us put
together might have weighed as much as Kenneth did.
When Kenneth came to the door, Jesse looked up and said, "Kenneth Florence,
my name is Jesse Cobb and this is Jack Hyles." Jesse said, "Kenneth, Jack
here wants to say a few words to you." No, Jack didn't either! Kenneth
looked at me and said, "Yes, what is it, Jack?" I said, "Uh ... Uh... ahem...
K-K-Kenneth, would you l-l-like to come to ch-ch-church tonight?" I do
not remember what happened. Jesse told me later that Kenneth said, "Yes,
I would," and I said, "You would?" Jesse told me that I said, "I'll come
by and get you tonight at 7 o'clock." And Kenneth said, "That will be fine."
That night at 7 o'clock I borrowed Jesse Cobb's car and went over to
get Kenneth Florence. For the first time in my life, knew I had to win
a soul. I had never won a soul in my life. The sweat was rolling down my
face, and I was trembling. When the invitation began, I put my arm across
Kenneth's big broad shoulders and said, "K-K-Kenneth, w-w-would you like
to get s-s-saved?" And he said, "Yes, I would." I said, " I don't know
how to tell you, but follow me." We walked down the aisle, and my pastor
met us at the end of the aisle. I said, "B-B-Brother Sizemore, this is
K-K-Kenneth Florence. He wants to get saved."
I had done my part, so I started back to my seat. Brother Sizemore said,
"Hold it, Jack!" I turned around. He said, "Kenneth, Jack wants to kneel
here and show you how to get saved." No I didn't! He was a bigger liar
than Jesse Cobb! I knelt at the front row. I said, "Kenneth, I don't know
what to tell you. I've never done this before. But I want to see you saved."
I began to weep. Kenneth said, "Jack, I know how to be saved. I've heard
it many times. Every Sunday afternoon for months, somebody from the church
has come by. But you're the first one that I ever thought really cared.
I know how to do it." I said, "Well... do it!"
Kenneth bowed his head and said something like the old prayer you've
heard thousands of times, "Oh God, be merciful to me, a sinner. I now receive
Jesus as my Saviour and trust Him to take me to Heaven when I die." And
while Kenneth Florence was getting saved, the fireworks of Heaven turned
loose in my soul! I mean the sparklers sparkled, and the firecrackers banged,
and the Roman candles soared through the sky. I jumped up and said, "Brother
Sizemore, would it be okay with you if I just did this all the time from
now on?"
We started a revival that night. In the next 7 days, little introverted
Jackie-boy Hyles that nobody took seriously brought 37 people down the
aisle professing faith in Jesus Christ. God set something ablaze in my
soul, and that something is still burning tonight. When you tell me not
to build a soulwinning church, you may as well tell a bird not to fly or
a fish not to swim. It's a call from within.
"Why can't you be like other preachers?' he wanted to know. "Why can't
you be normal like everyone else? Why the constant pressure about soulwinning?"
Not one time in the Bible does it say, "The Son of man is come to exegete
the scriptures." Not one time does it say, "The Son of man is come to lead
the deeper life program." My Bible says the reason that Jesus left Heaven,
and the fellowship with the Father, and the glory and majesty that were
rightfully His for 33 homesick years - the reason why He lived with no
place to lay His head while foxes had holes and birds had nests - the reason
He was rejected by His own city, hated by His own race, expelled from His
own synagogue - the reason that He went to Calvary was TO SEEK AND TO SAVE
THAT WHICH WAS LOST.
Why do we work day and night to build soulwinning churches getting the
message of the Gospel to America? I'll tell you why. Because of the burning
call from within.
A CALL FROM WITHOUT
"Preacher, we're nervous. Why does it have to be soulwinning all the
time?" I told my people that night, "Not only is there a call from within,
but there is a call from without." Come over and help us." There's more
to it than personal preference. There's a world going to hell! There's
a call from without. I believe that men without God are lost. I believe
that when those lost men die in their sins, they go to hell. I believe
that men who go to hell burn forever and ever. If that be true, would you
tell me what else counts in this world?
That call from without began many years ago. I was called to pastor
a little country church. I could win souls to Christ, but I could not preach
them down the aisle. For more than a year, nobody walked the aisle professing
faith is Christ. I begged and pleaded for God's power. I didn't know what
the answer was.
But on May 13, 1950 I knelt on the grave of my alcoholic father who
died, and as far as I know, went to hell, and I said, "Dear God, I'm not
getting off my face until something happens to me."
The next Sunday night I went back to my little church to preach. A lad
came to receive Christ as Saviour. And then there came another ...and another.
I'd never seen anybody walk the aisle under my preaching before. When they
came in we voted them in on the spot. Up north today, you have to have
credit references and blood tests and everything else to get in a lot of
Baptist churches.
I'd say, "So and so is coming, professing his faith in Christ. What
is your pleasure?" I had a deacon that sat over here every Sunday right
next to a window, and he would spit out that window and say, "I make a
motion that he be received for baptism, and after baptism into the full
fellowship of the church." I had a man over here next to that wall who
would say, "I second the move." The same two men said it all the time.
I said, "All in favor, say aye." They all did. Then we 'extended the right
hand of fellowship'. We sang, "Shall We Gather At The River' and everyone
went around row by row to shake hands with the new converts. Then I dismissed
the service.
That night 3 people got saved, and boy I was happy. Back in east Texas
where I pastored, there weren't many cars. Most everybody came by tractor
or horseback or wagon, and one Model A Ford. Everyone was getting on their
wagons and tractors to go home, and I was praising the Lord. I was having
a spell. I wish some of you folks would get religion again. You've gotten
too used to it.
I was having an old-fashioned spell - clapping my hands and praising
God when all of a sudden --- WHAM! A big old 235 pound fellow hit me from
the rear. I turned around and there was O. C. Pruett, a trainman, with
tears in his eyes. He said, "Reverend, my daughter Barbara is leaning up
against the wall back there crying her eyes out. I think she wants to get
saved." I went back and said, "Barbara, do you want to get saved?" She
said, "Of course, I do! Nobody wants to go to hell." I won Barbara to Jesus.
I went out on the front porch of the church and said, "Hey, come on
back in." Folks left their wagons and tractors and came back in. I said,
"Folks, Barbara Pruett just got saved. What's your pleasure?' The same
man said, "I make a motion that she be received for baptism, and after
baptism into the full fellowship to the church." Over here he said, 'I
second the move.' Everybody in favor, say aye." "Aye." We sang "Shall We
Gather At The River" and came around row by row to shake her hand. Glory
to God, hallelujah! I dismissed the service again at about 10 o'clock.
I was having another spell when the same guy hit me from behind. WHAM!
He said, "Reverend, my married daughter Dorothy is there on the back row.
Look at her crying her eyes out. Would you go talk to her?" I went back
and said, "Dorothy, do you want to be saved?" She said, "My sister's going
to heaven and I'm going to hell. Don't you think I want to go to Heaven
with her?" I told her how to be saved and she got saved. I went out on
the front porch and said, "Hey, come on back in."
When they came in, I said, "Folks, Dorothy Hall just got saved. What's
your pleasure. This man over here spit out the window and said, "I make
a motion that she be received for baptism and after baptism be received
into the full fellowship of the church." This one said, "I second the move."
I said, "All in favor, say aye." "Aye." We opened our song books to "Shall
We Gather At The River" and came row by row again to shake Dorothy's hand.
I dismissed the service for the third time about 10:30 and went out
on the front porch and continued my spell. I know you won't believe this,
but it really happened. WHAM! It was the same man. "Reverend, her husband
Sam is over there and he just threw down his cigarette. Do you reckon that
means anything?"
I went down and said, "Sam, I understand you just threw down your cigarette?"
He said, "Reverend, you preached about hell tonight. I looked at the fire
on that cigarette, and it dawned on me --- that's where I'm going when
I die." I said, "Do you want to get saved?" He said, 'Sure I want to get
saved. My wife's going to Heaven and I want to go to Heaven with her."
On the front porch of that little country church I won Sam to Jesus Christ
and said, "Hey, come on back in. Sam Hall just trusted Christ as his Saviour."
We went through the same thing again.
Six people got saved that night. I'd been preaching for over a year
and hadn't seen anybody get saved. We had over 1,000 walk the aisle for
salvation last Sunday at First Baptist Church, but that didn't make me
any happier than those six people that Sunday night after God filled me
with his Spirit for the first time.
Now I know you won't believe me -- I wouldn't believe you if you told
this story either. But as I stood in the same spot having a spell, WHAM!
...you guessed it. The same fellow. He said, "Reverend...I think I'll get
saved myself before I go home." I won O. C. Pruett to Jesus and all the
people came back in and voted him into the church and sang and gave him
the right hand of fellowship/
That night Mrs. Hyles and I went to our little parsonage next door.
I wish you could have seen it. The foundation under the back bedroom was
so shaky that two people couldn't walk around in there at the same time.
There was a rat at the back porch when we came, that was still there when
we left. he thought he was one of the family. We gave him rat poison and
he gained weight on it. We put a rat trap out there and he thought it was
a toy. We went to our little country parsonage that night at 11:15 and
took out a great big Bible. We were just a couple of kids -- I was only
22 or 23 at the time. We put our hands on that Bible and looked up and
said, "Oh, God! This is what we've been wanting. We're not going to settle
for anything less."
May I take a moment and praise His name? Since that Sunday night almost
48 years ago, there has not been a single somebody saved. I'm talking about
little country churches and small town churches and big city churches.
We baptized that night, and there's not been one single Sunday since then
that somebody hasn't been baptized. All of our children have grown up and
not a single child has ever gone to church without seeing somebody baptized
before Sunday night was over.
You say, "Preacher, why don't you calm down?" I don't intend to calm
down. I believe there's a hell! Now if there's no hell, let's all go 'deeper
life'. If there's no hell, we can all join John MacArthur. If there's no
hell, let's all go exegete. But if there is a hell, let's go soulwinning.
Let's build soulwinning churches. The call from without.
A CALL FROM ABOVE
"Pastor, may I talk to you please. We like you fine," said the wealthy
man, "but we're nervous. I represent the nervous people of this church.
We like your preaching, if it is a bit loud and long. We use to have revival
meetings now and then. But since you've been here, it's like that every
Sunday morning. Soulwinning, soulwinning, soulwinning. Why can't you be
like other preachers are?"
That night I told them that there is a call from above. "Wherefore seeing
we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses... My mama
is watching. Dr. John Rice looks down from Heaven, and I can tell you that
he's mighty pleased. He gave his life for soulwinning, to fight formalism
and the deeper life movement and the hyper-Calvinism movement and the Charismatic
hodgepodge. He gave his life for what's going on right here. Tonight they're
watching. Dr. John, Brother Lester Roloff, Dr. Bill Rice, Dr. Ford Porter,
Dr. Bob Jones, SR...There's a call from above.
Years ago I was pastoring in Garland, Texas. I was 26 or 27 years of
age. The church had grown rapidly and was running about 1,500 in Sunday
School. One Sunday morning I was out front shaking hands with everybody
that came in. An old man came through the door. He was close to 90, I think.
His hair was as white as freshly fallen snow. His shoulders drooped. If
he stood up straight, he couldn't have been more than 5'4" tall.
I said, "How do you do, sir. My name is Jack Hyles." In a squeaky voice
he said, "My name is James W. Moore." I said, "Brother Moore, we're glad
to have you. Where are you from?" He said, "I just moved to the area. I've
been a preacher up in Iowa for over 50 years. I had a heart attack and
the doctor says I won't live long. I came to Texas because it's warmer
and I have some family here. I'd like to join your church. I won't cause
you no trouble. I'll be for you. I hear you preach it like it is."
I bought a platform rocker and put it by the altar next to the wall
for Brother Moore. He'd rock while I preached and clap his hands. "Amen!
Glory to God! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!" When I'd preach on dancing
or movies or something, he'd shout, "Pull over and park there for a while."
Apart from my pastor J. C. Sizemore and my best friend, Dr. John R. Rice,
I've never loved a preacher like I loved James W. Moore.
Every Monday morning he'd come by my office at 9 o'clock. He'd walk
in my office and pace the floor. He'd say, "Brother Jack, I just came to
tell you about a stupid mistake I made when I was a kid preacher..." It
was always the same mistake I had made the day before. I'd hug him and
thank him for telling me what he had learned. He'd teach me the Bible and
talk to me every Monday morning from 9 to 10 o'clock. What a dear, sweet
man of God.
One Sunday his chair was empty. For several weeks he was gone. I went
to his house and no one answered. I thought maybe he had moved back to
Iowa. Late one Sunday night the phone rang. The lady said, "This is the
nurse at Spiegel Memorial Hospital. I hate to bother you this late at night,
but there's an old man that was brought in with a heart attack. He has
no identification, and nobody knows who he is. He's about to die. But he
keeps saying, 'Call Brother Jack.' We knew that you like to be called Brother
Jack, so we thought you may know the old man." I said, "Is he about 5'4"?
Is his hair real white?" She said, "Yes." I said, "Yes, I know him." I
went to the hospital. I hadn't seen many folks die, so I was all prepared
for a solemn ceremony. But Brother Moore wasn't dying right. He said, "Come
on in, Brother Jack. I'm just about to take a trip I've been looking forward
to for a long time. In just a few minutes I'm going to see Elijah and Moses
and Abraham and Paul and John the Baptist and all those fellows. Anything
you want me to tell them for you?" Then he said, "Brother Jack, I want
you to have a Bible conference. I'm going to Heaven now, but I want to
plan it for you." He chose the speakers. I had the conference after he
had gone to Heaven just like he asked.
Then this is what he did. He took the oxygen mask off his face and laid
it beside him. He reached his hands out and put them around mine, and said,
"Brother Jack, KEEP...PREACHING...IT...!" I heard the rustling of wings
as the angles came and took his dear old spirit to the presence of the
Saviour. I said, "Oh God, help me to keep preaching it."
Many times in the past several years I've heard that old man say, "Keep
preaching it! Keep preaching it!" Don't you hear tonight the call from
above? Even the blessed Saviour says, "Go! Go! Go ye into all the world
and preach the Gospel..."
A CALL FROM BENEATH
"Reverend, we're glad you're our pastor and we like you fine, but you're
different. Why can't you be like everybody else?" I told my people that
Sunday night, pretty much what I've told you tonight. There's a call from
within - something on the inside that says, "I've got to do it." There's
a call from without - a lost world crying, "Come over and help us." There's
a call from above - heavenly witnesses cheering us on. And there's a call
from beneath. "Send Lazarus, have him tell my 5 brothers not to come here."
They're more concerned about soulwinning in hell tonight than you are in
your church. "Send Lazarus. I've got 5 brothers and I don't want them to
burn in hell." There's a call from beneath.
On Saturday, December 31, 1949, I got burdened for my father. My father
was an alcoholic - a part-time bartender. I was pastoring a little country
church in east Texas. Up to that time I had won souls to Christ, but I
had never had anyone walk the aisle under my preaching. On New Year's Eve
I got in the car and drove 150 miles to Dallas to a tavern right across
the street from the seminary. My daddy worked there part-time and drank
there rest of the time for 8 years and not once did one single professor,
staff member, administrator or student ever walk across the street to witness
to the drunkard that tended the bar. That's not New Testament Christianity.
I didn't care how much Greek and Hebrew you memorize.
I walked in the Hunt Saloon on Saturday morning, New Year's Eve. My
daddy was sitting at the bar, drunk. I walked up and put my arm around
him and said, "Daddy, I'm going to take you with me to east Texas. I'm
going to have a Watch Night service tonight, and tomorrow is Sunday, New
Year's Day. I want you to go with me." He cursed at me and said, "I'm not
going to no church tomorrow." I said, "Yes, you are." He said, "No, I'm
not." I laid my Bible down and said, "Daddy, you are either going to have
to come with me or whip me. I'm going to fight you if I have to in order
to get you in that car." He came with me and I sobered him up.
That night my daddy went to church and we had a light kind of a service,
a lot of fun. The next morning was the first time he had ever heard me
preach. Tears streamed down his cheeks. The invitation came and my big
one-legged deacon put his arm around my daddy, and said, "Mr. Hyles, won't
you come to Christ." He did not walk the aisle. That afternoon I took a
walk with my daddy out across the pasture and said, "Daddy, I want to see
you saved more that I want anything in the whole world. Daddy, I want you
to go to Heaven with Mama and me." He had left us many years before when
I was a little boy.
My daddy said something I never thought I'd ever hear him say. "Son,
I'm going to get saved. I can't today, but I'm going back to straighten
up some things at home, and I'll come back in the spring, and maybe get
a little fruit stand or something, and I'm going to get saved. You're going
to baptize me this spring, and I'll be a deacon in your church one of these
days, you wait and see if I'm not."
I took him back the next morning. The last words he said to me were,
"Son, I'm going to let you baptize me in the spring." That was good enough
for me. But the spring never came. On May 12th I got a call that my daddy
had dropped dead with a heat attack, and I was a powerless preacher.
Several years passed. One Sunday night, I was still in my office at
about 11 o'clock. I heard a knock at my door and there stood my sister
weeping. She said, "Jack, would you tell me how to be save." I brought
here into my office and led her to Christ. She's now a lovely Christian
and a wonderful soulwinner. After she got saved, I said, "Earlyne, why
did you come tonight." a She said, "Jack, tonight you preached on Luke
16. You told about the rich man in hell who lift up his eyes and said,
"Send Lazarus to tell my five e brothers not to come here."
She said, "Jack, when you told that story, I thought of a dream I had
shortly after daddy died. I dreamed that a man in a white robe, maybe an
angel, took me in a big building. He showed me walls lined with caskets.
In every casket was a copse. He took me to the first casket and I looked
into the face of that corpse and he had a smile on his face. He took me
all around that room and every casket had a corpse, and every corpse had
a smile on his face, until I got to the last one. The angel said, 'You
can't see that one." She said, "I must see it," and in her dream she broke
away from that angel.
My sister told me, "Jack, daddy was in that casket. I went up and looked
at him and his face was writhing in pain. He cried out in agony, "Sister...
sister...sister..." All those years I wondered what daddy was trying to
tell me, and tonight when you preached that sermon, I know what it was
daddy was trying to tell me. He was saying, "Sister... don't come here."
Don't you tell me not to build a soulwinning church. Don't you tell me
not to live for soulwinning. I've got a daddy who, as far as I know, is
in hell. There's a call from beneath.
Why don't you let God change you tonight? Where is that Curtis Hutson
who was in Atlanta in 1961 whose life was changed? Where is that Wally
Beebe who was in a meeting like this up in Danville, Illinois and his life
was transformed as a kid preacher?
"Pastor, I come representing some nervous people. We like you fine.
But pastor, why are you like you are? Why is the pressure on all the time?
We use toe have revival meeting twice a year, and see people get saved,
sometimes 50 or 60 a year. But ever since you've been here it's soulwinning
Monday, soulwinning Tuesday, soulwinning Wednesday, soulwinning Thursday,
soulwinning Friday, soulwinning Saturday... Why can't you be like everybody
else?
I'll tell you why. There's a call from within. "K-K-Kenneth, w-w-wouldn't
you like to b-b-be s-s-saved?" There's a call from without. "Reverend,
I think I'll just get saved myself before I go home." There's a call from
above. "Brother Jack, KEEP...PREACHING...IT!" There's a call from beneath.
"Sister...sister...sister!" FOUR CALLS TO SOULWINNING!
