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"Praise the Lord!" he said again.
Max had been a heavy smoker and the Lord delivered him from tobacco also. It is like this
when Jesus comes into hearts and homes.
All of this had taken place just a week before the encounter with his parents.
I went to see the father of Max at his little place of business. A cobbler, he was busy
driving nails into the soles of shoes. I told him I knew his son.
He said, "I have no son Max."
"Yes, you do."
"Don't mention his name to me. He's dead."
"But," I said, "I want to tell you about the same Saviour he trusts."
He raised his little hammer and said, "If you don't shut up, I'm going to hit you over the
head with this hammer. I'd rather have seen my son go to the electric chair for murder than for him
to become a believer in that Jesus."
I kept telling him I loved his soul; but the more I told him, the more he threatened me.
Before he died, however, the father believed on the Lord Jesus Christ and accepted Him as his
Saviour.
Max became an evangelist. God used him from coast to coast. (His wife is a beautiful
singer and has made several albums.) He passed away not long ago. His wife wrote that his
funeral was like a revival meeting. People praised the Lord during the service. Hymns of praise
were sung. There was no reason to sorrow, for Max had gone to be with the Lord whom he had so
recently learned to love. For Him he had been willing to be declared dead by his family and to
count all things but loss.
* * * * * * *
4
"IN PRISON AND YE VISITED ME"
"Johnnie May, are you going to sing for the white boys too?" I asked one of my black
friends as we made our way to the country jail. (I often spoke there on Fridays.)
"Land sakes alive, yes!" was her reply. "They've got souls just like we have!"
The jail housed between seventy and a hundred at all times. We had gone to many of the
single cell blocks. Now we went to another area of the prison -- a long cell block housing several
men.