I once went to hold a meeting in Bro. William Gustafson's grove three miles
north of Belgrade, Minnesota. The brother met me at the station and said he
had quite a lot of business to do in town so I could stay at that station
until he got through and then he would come and get me. But as quite a long
time passed and he did not come I walked over to a store and asked them if
they knew Mr. Gustafson and they said they did. Then I asked if they knew
whether he was still in town. To which they replied that he had gone home
quite a while ago. So I had to take my grips and walk out to his place, as
the meeting was set and I was to stay in his home. I held the meeting and
some souls were saved, but I never said a word to Mr. Gustafson about his
leaving me in town. I thought that the good Lord could speak to him better
than I could. The Lord gave me grace to treat him as nicely as though
nothing had happened. When the meeting ended I had to walk back to town
again.
At the next year's state camp meeting he came to me and said, "Can we go
over into the timber?" Of course I said, "Yes." On our way over he told me
that a would-be preacher had talked to him about me, accusing me of many
things but that he had found out that they were not true. Then he asked me
to forgive him and he also asked the Lord to forgive him, as he had lied to
me.
It is too bad that such things happen, as a finer brother than Brother
Gustafson there never was.
Then Brother Gustafson told me that the Lord spoke to him telling him he
should have given ten dollars to me for that meeting, but now the Lord
tells him it is to be fifty, and he wrote me out a check for that amount.
* * * * *
A WONDERFUL INCIDENT
Father Brewster, as he was commonly called, of Hereford, Minnesota, was
taken sick and was sick for some time. If I am correctly informed, he was
89 years of age. For a number of days it was thought that he was dead but
the doctor said that he was still living, but he might go almost any time,
and the family sent for me to come and conduct the funeral services. He had
been in a coma for eight days. On arriving I found that the doctors had not
yet pronounced him dead. I went into the bedroom where he lay and stood
looking at him for a few minutes, meditating on the many good times we had
had together in the Lord. Finally I fell on my knees and began to pray.
Suddenly he called out in a loud voice, "Praise the Lord, Brother Susag."
He never moved a hand or a finger, all that he moved was his lips and the
next day he passed away. He had not spoken a word for eight days.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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