I  was fifteen years of age, during a revival at the  Parker 
        church,  when a saint of God slipped up beside me on one  of  the 
        front seats and humbly asked, "Loran, are you saved?"
        
             Self wanted to say, "Yes!"  After all, I had been reared  in 
        a  Christian home, prayed every day, went to  church  faithfully, 
        tried  to  obey my parents as best I could, and didn't  fight  or 
        fuss with my brothers.  From the age of twelve on I seldom missed 
        a  prayer meeting, even though I was about the only boy there  my 
        age.   I  was  janitor of the church at the age  of  thirteen  or 
        fourteen,  but janitor or not, prayer meeting was on the  program 
        for  me (and you can generally tell who are really serious  about 
        God's work by observing those who faithfully support this service 
        dedicated to prayer).
        
             But  when I told this person that I was saved, I  discovered 
        for the first time in all my life that I had a living heart.   My 
        heart  felt  as  if it literally flipped or turned  over  when  I 
        answered  "Yes".   I  have to marvel how God convinced  me  in  a 
        second  or  two or three (and He tells me now that it  was  three 
        seconds)  that I was not born again.  Now no person  informed  me 
        about  the marvelous operations of God within the heart  and  the 
        body,  but  the Holy Spirit has instructed me little  by  little, 
        over  many  years,  how He reveals within  the  heart.   At  that 
        moment, I was being instructed about the operation of Holy Spirit 
        conviction within the human heart.
        
             I  was deceived about my true condition because I  had  been 
        going  by what "seemed" right, not by what God said  through  His 
        Spirit.  I wanted to think that I was a saved boy, but
        
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        the Holy Spirit convinced me quickly that I wasn't what I thought 
        myself to be.  I don't think I had much conviction ever touch  my 
        heart until this saint obeyed God by asking me about my soul.
        
             God's   convincing  men  of  sin  will  really  come  to   a 
        congregation  when all the followers in that church are  faithful 
        and  obedient.  Great conviction will fall when the  entire  body 
        has paid the price.  Occasionally, however, God can bring revival 
        in  spite  of opposition and disobedience.  We  experienced  this 
        when  several  of  the board members at one of  the  churches  we 
        served rather felt that we couldn't afford to have revival.   The 
        Lord  had revealed that we were to proceed, and He  sent  revival 
        right over the top of every difficulty.
 
             But  usually conviction does not fall severely upon  sinners 
        in  a  community  until those of the  church  humble  themselves, 
        confess  their faults to one another, get everything  right  with 
        God,  and do exactly what He wants them to do.   Conviction  upon 
        the lost will many times be in proportion to the burden which the 
        church carries, and a burden for the lost cannot be achieved:  it 
        is a gift from God to the broken, obedient heart.
        
             This  is the reason we have so little true conviction  in  a 
        great  number of our churches today.  So much secret sin,  hidden 
        iniquity,  disobedience,  and  self-assertion  in  the  lives  of 
        professing  Christians grieves the Holy Spirit.  Bible  doctrines 
        are still being preached in many congregations, but the power  of 
        God to convince men of sin has been greatly limited.
        
             We cannot convict anyone of sin, for conviction comes not to 
        the mind, but to the heart; and only the Holy Spirit can convince 
        a  man's  heart of sin. We may have the proper theology  and  the 
        correct ideas in our churches, but unless we as a people are  one 
        together  in  Christ Jesus through His love, the Holy  Spirit  is 
        grieved; because of this, God seldom sends His convicting  power.  
        Without  His  divine power moving in their hearts,  men  will  be 
        totally unaware of the
        
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        desperate lostness of their souls, just as I had been.
        
             In December 1932 or January 1933, in a conversation  unknown 
        to  me  at that time, our pastor, Rev. N. E. Smith,  came  to  my 
        father  and  said,  "Eldon,  I have  an  opportunity  to  get  an 
        evangelist  by  the name of Rev. E. R. Lewis.  I know that  if  I 
        bring it before the board, it will probably not be approved,  and 
        I  have  only  a  few days in which to procure  him.   He  has  a 
        cancellation and can come at this time."
        
             My  father told Rev. Smith, "Pastor, you invite him,  and  I 
        will stand behind you."
        
             So  our  pastor scheduled Rev. E. R. Lewis  for  revival  in 
        January.  He was called "the word painter," for he could take the 
        Bible stories and simply bring them alive.  There was no one like 
        him.   Even  today, though he is over eighty  year  old,  Brother 
        Lewis has not changed.  He still has the fire, the keen mind, and 
        the same goal he once had.  I was amazed when I visited him a few 
        months ago, for he was able to recall in detail many incidents of 
        that  revival  in  1933.   His wife is not  well,  but  he  never 
        mentions it. He doesn't even act like she is sick.  I would never 
        have known it if his son had not informed me.  Isn't it wonderful 
        that  a  man could continue faithfully and not faint--simply be 
        joyous and overcoming as if everything were normal?  Why, most of
        us would be lamenting, "I tell you, we are having hard time. 
        Mother is not very  well."  
 
        But he didn't say one word about her sickness when I visited with 
        him a few months ago.  Praise the Lord.
        
             In the first month of 1933 the meeting started, but I didn't 
        come  for  a few nights because we had basketball  practice.   Of 
        course, on Sunday night and prayer meeting I had to be there, but 
        on other week nights my father would sometimes permit me to be at 
        school  functions.  Not many nights went by until he said,  "Now, 
        Son, I think we will go to church tonight.  We need to be at  the 
        revival."   I  wasn't  too anxious to attend,  for  I  was  under 
        dreadful, deep (the Holy Ghost says within me "deep") conviction.  
        But, as soon as my
        
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        father said that I was to be in church, I was on my way.  
        
             A  few  months ago Rev. Lewis reviewed  what  actually  took 
        place, unknown to me at that time, during the revival:
        
               "Before church started that night," he told me, "your daddy 
             came  up  and  sat  down beside  me.   `Brother  Lewis,'  he 
             confided, `don't look back, but my oldest son, Loran,  needs 
             to  be saved.  He needs to find Christ.  God has called  him 
             and the devil is fighting terribly.  Don't look around,  but 
             I just pray that some way God will help you in this  revival
             to bring him in.'
        
               "I  said, `Yes, Sir, we will do the best we  can,  Brother 
             Helm.'  And when I looked around, if I ever saw a picture of 
             despair, I saw it painted on your face.  You looked like you 
             didn't have a friend in the world."
        
             When  a  person  is under conviction, he  doesn't  look  too 
        happy.  Many people in the church do not appear too happy because 
        they do not have the happiness on the inside.  When you are saved 
        and have the joy of Jesus on the inside, it shows on the outside, 
        because your mind will tell your face.
        
             True  happiness,  a  genuine  inner  joy,  is  a  result  of 
        obedience; and obedience is never experienced except by  humility 
        and  self-denial.  If we fail to deny Self, we disobey  God.   In 
        order  to  obey  the Lord regularly and  consistently,  one  must 
        continue to die out to himself and to things.  Here is where  
        true   joy is to be found!   The secret of living is in dying:
        dying out to what we want and what we plan, in order
        to do what God wants and what God wills.
        
             As  the revival services continued, conviction was  apparent 
        upon  me.   When we pulled up to the curb of  the  church  Sunday 
        morning,  January  22, 1933, my brother  Richard  said,  "They're 
        going to get you today."
        
             "What did you say?" I asked.
            
             He replied, I just have a feeling that they are going to get 
        you today."
        
             "Going  to get me!"  I remarked impatiently.   Richard  said 
        that  I  didn't  respond  too  cordially.   I  was  under  severe 
        conviction.  God was calling and the devil was fighting.
        
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             That  evening after the Epworth League service, I came  down 
        the  church steps onto the curb as my mother and father  came  up 
        the walk to attend the evening service.  I said to my father,  "I 
        am  going  with the young people to the Rivoli  Theater  tonight, 
        Dad."
        
             Without  hesitation my father said, "Son, you will  sing  in 
        the choir tonight."
        
             Here  I  was  almost seventeen years old,  president  of  my 
        Junior  class  in high school, and my friends were  getting  into 
        their  cars  to go to the theater.  But I simply  turned  around, 
        walked  back  up all the steps, made my way down the  aisle,  and 
        found a seat over on the left side of the choir loft.
        
             I  didn't question my father or whimper and whine  until  he 
        let  me have my way.  My dad had never permitted us to  have  our 
        own  way.   When  he told me that I would sing in  the  choir,  I 
        obeyed his order immediately without question or contention.   In 
        a  few minutes I looked up and here came my good chum, Thomas  B.  
        He said, "Well, if you're not going to the theater, I'm not going 
        either."   So my not going to the theater brought him  back  into 
        the church also.
        
             When  the sermon ended, one of the saints came up  into  the 
        choir loft to invite me to Jesus.  I was hard; I was obstinate; I 
        was stubborn.  "No!" I insisted.  But the evangelist, by the help 
        of the Holy Spirit, led a young man to Jesus while he was praying 
        with  souls.  All at once he said, "Now everyone who is a  friend 
        of Howard M., come down and shake his hand."
        
             Why,  Howard  had been my friend since 1922.  I  had  to  go 
        shake  his hand.  That brought me out of the choir right down  to 
        the  old-fashioned  "mourner's bench."  It was  composed  of  two 
        benches, one on either side at the front of the sanctuary.
        
             When  I  got  there  to shake his  hand,  the  young  people 
        gathered  around me and I couldn't get away.  I tried  to  leave, 
        but it seemed that I couldn't move at all.  It was almost as if I 
        were nailed to the floor.  Folks were pleading with me to
        
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        give  my heart to Jesus.  I looked to my left, and there, just  a 
        few feet from my side, was my mother at the altar praying.
        
             After  a few minutes in this struggle between dear ones  who 
        were  pleading  and  Satan who was fighting  within,  I  said  to 
        myself,  "God, you have been on my trail ever since I was  born."  
        Now  why  did I say just those words--"God, you have been  on  my 
        trail  ever  since I was born" when I did not even know  that  my 
        mother felt the Holy Spirit falling upon us at my birth?  It  was 
        the Lord speaking through me.
        
             Still talking to myself I added, "I can see that if I  don't 
        go with You it is going to be dark.  But, God, I don't want to be 
        a   fifty  percent  Christian  or  even  a  ninety-nine   percent 
        Christian.   I  want to be one hundred percent for  you,  Jesus."  
        When  I said that, I dropped to my knees right there and  Tom  B. 
        fell to the altar beside me.  He got victory in about nine to ten 
        minutes;  but I continued to pray and plead with God, my head  in 
        the curl of my arm.
        
             I  thought myself to be the worst of sinners, even though  I 
        had  never  had as much as a puff of tobacco in my  mouth.   Most 
        boys,  when they are little, will go behind the barn or into  the 
        field,  get some corn silk, roll it, and smoke it.  But  I  never 
        did.   My  father and mother had said to me, "I  trust  you  will 
        never do that.  If you will not smoke, we will make you a present 
        the  day you are twenty-one."  Because of their admonition,  each 
        time I was tempted by the fellows, my mother's face would come up 
        before  me.   I would resist the temptation and go home.   Not  a 
        swallow  of  liquor had been down my throat either.  But  when  I 
        knelt at the altar that night, I was aware that I had come so far 
        short in pleasing Jesus.  I had grieved Him so much.  I was  such 
        a terrible sinner.
             
             Then  Jesus  began to speak to me.  "I am calling  you,"  He 
        said.  "You are Mine.  You are going to be my servant."
        
             "I can't do it," I told Him.
        
             He said, "Yes, you can. I am calling you to preach the Gospel." 
        
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             "No," I replied.  "I am not able."
        
             "You  are  Mine,"  God continued to deal with me.   For  the 
        longest  time I cried out.  It was so black.  "You are  going  to 
        preach,"  He kept telling me gently.
        
             "Lord, I can't preach," I insisted.  (Now whenever a  person 
        wants  to preach, I rather doubt if God has called  him.   Nearly 
        every man of God I have known has tried to get out of  preaching.  
        He  has  told  God that he is unable to do it.  If  a  man  feels 
        himself totally incapable of this high assignment, I believe  God 
        will be able to work with him.  I wanted to be a lawyer, but  God 
        was calling me to preach the Gospel.)
        
             My mother tells me that the power of Satan was so very great
        around the altar that it seemed as if one could cut it with a knife.
        The enemy was there in terrible  power trying to keep me back in the
        Kingdom of Darkness.  I suppose that the devil fought me at my 
        conversion as severely as any man I have seen or heard about in this
        age, because I believe  Satan knew that if I started  for  Jesus,  I 
        didn't want to be half-way in this business.  I wanted to be  one 
        hundred  percent  for God.  Satan didn't want me to  get  started 
        because  he knew of all my appointments in the coming years  with 
        dear ones from coast to coast and in a few nations.     
        
             (When  I  would be with the clerk of the little  village  of 
        Parker,  Indiana,  in 1951, I would share with him my  walk  with 
        Jesus and answers to prayer in different parts of the nation.  He 
        would be blessed and thrilled over how God was directing me.  One 
        day as I shared with him, he lifted his hand across that big desk 
        to  make  a  statement, and I received the witness  of  the  Holy 
        Spirit to the truth of his words before he could even speak them: 
        "What  would have happened," he said, "if Loran Helm hadn't  come 
        down this lonely trail?")
        
             That  January night, Satan knew of the determination  of  my 
        heart  to  do  God's will.  He knew why God had called  me  as  a 
        little  boy, and he was fighting with ferocious power to keep  me 
        from getting started on this marvelous adventure with Jesus.
        
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             God  continued lovingly to call me, but all I  could  repeat 
        over and over was, "I can't preach--I can't preach."
        
             Suddenly  a beautiful light appeared right above me.  I  was 
        amazed!   I don't know how to describe it to you, for it was  the 
        light of the Kingdom of God.  (Now don't you look for any  light.  
        What  you anticipate and work out for your own conversion  seldom 
        happens.   Simply  take what God gives you and be  glad  for  it.  
        Every  person's experience will be different, because God  treats 
        us as individuals.)
        
             As  soon as I saw this marvelous light, my sins  fell  away, 
        all  the  darkness was gone, and a great load lifted out  of  me.  
        God reached over His index finger, dipped it in the sacred  blood 
        of Jesus, and wrote my name down in the Lamb's Book of Life.  Praise
        the Lord!  On  a page white and fair He wrote my unworthy name.
        
             When He gave me a new heart and a new life I suddenly 
        experienced a love and peace that I never knew existed.  Jesus,
        through the power  of God, by the work of the Holy Spirit, performed
        divine surgery on me: He grafted me into His side, and the Light and
        the Life and  the Love of God began to flow through  the  veins  and 
        arteries of my soul.  I wanted everyone saved right away.
        
             I had heard my father and other pastors preach on the joy of 
        the Lord, the peace of Jesus, since I was a little boy three years
        of age; but I didn't know a bit more of what they were talking about
        than if they had read a paragraph in the Hebrew language.  I had
        studied the Bible, prayed daily, and attended church faithfully, but
        I didn't know about the divine joy that flows through the great heart
        of Jesus  until  I  was brought from sin's  terrible  darkness  into 
        Christ's glorious light.
        
             Oh, I know that I was only beginning, that I was just on the 
        fringe  of His great love; but God made a new person of  me  that 
        January  night.   I  was unworthy of this new  life.   I  was  so 
        undeserving.   It  was a gift from God through Jesus  Christ.   I 
        wasn't  expecting the miraculous, but when you walk with God,  it 
        will be a supernatural walk.  The holy
        
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        Word  of  God verifies the fact that the way of  Christianity  is 
        supernatural.
        
             To try to have Christianity without the supernatural is like 
        trying to have apples without orchards, homes without  dwellings, 
        factories without machinery.  To try to have Christianity without 
        the  miraculous  is  like trying  to  have  human  life   without 
        breathing,  water  without wells or springs,  and  light  without 
        electricity.    Christianity   began   in   simplicity   with   a 
        supernatural  birth,  and  continues to live  in  the  miraculous 
        through childlike faith.
        
             But don't seek the supernatural; don't seek for experiences:  
        seek first the Kingdom of God.  One doesn't seek gifts or things,
        one seeks the person of Jesus alone.  When you seek Jesus alone, 
        He never fails to give you what you need and what other persons 
        need through you.  He cannot fail.
                  
             Jesus saved me right there at that altar.  (And do you  know 
        what God is telling me right now as I share this with you?  He is 
        saying, "I will guide you and direct you."  Isn't that wonderful?  
        Just  as  I shared that Jesus saved me, He spoke  within  me  and 
        said,  "I will guide you and direct you."  To walk with  God  and 
        have  Him  reveal  Himself to you is one of  the  most  wonderful 
        things in the world!  I sense His presence in my heart right now.  
        Thank you, Jesus.

            (I  get excited and I can't help it.  I am wonderfully  glad 
        about Jesus living in my heart.  If you have Jesus in your heart, 
        and  if  you  are walking with God, you are really  going  to  be 
        excited  about  the  Kingdom  of  God.   You  are  going  to   be 
        enthusiastic  about everything that Jesus is in.  You don't  have 
        to  work  up  excitement; it is simply within you,  and  it  gets 
        better as you go along.
        
             (I  am  convinced that very few people are  following  Jesus 
        with  all their hearts.  Some people claim to be  Christian,  but 
        there  is scant evidence of joy in them.  Precious persons  stand 
        in  service  to  testify that they love Jesus, but  there  is  so 
        little of the love of Jesus in them.  Their faces are full of
        
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        shadows,  and  through their eyes one can  see  hidden  darkness.  
        There  is  a  great possibility that at  home  they  find  fault, 
        complain, murmur, or criticize.  Some individuals claiming to  be 
        Christian say beautiful words at church, but at home they can  be 
        harsh and cruel, complaining and hard to get along with.
        
             (Listen, dear ones--if a man is a Christian, he has the  joy 
        of Jesus and the fruits of the Spirit in this life.  The time is
        short, and we need to be examining our lives for solid evidence of 
        Christ's  indwelling.  We must go with Jesus  wholeheartedly  and 
        rid  our lives of all these unclean things.  If you are  in  this 
        with  all your heart, God will begin to work through you to  help 
        someone: to encourage, to lift, or to heal.)
        
             When  I rose from the altar to a standing position,  I  felt 
        like  I  was going to lift right up off the  floor.   Really!   I 
        actually thought that I was going right up.  I didn't say a  word 
        to  anyone, but Jesus had so lifted the load of my heart  that  I 
        thought  surely my feet would come off the floor.   Others  could 
        sense this divine presence too, for John Wesley Lewis, the son of 
        the evangelist and the song evangelist for the meetings (who  has 
        been  in  the church for over fifty years) told me  recently:  "I 
        have  been in many revivals and in many church services; but  the 
        night  you  were converted, I felt the most power of God  that  I 
        ever felt before or since."
             
             Only  a  few had remained to pray with me during  this  deep 
        struggle of the soul.  Satan had been there determined to own  me 
        forever;  but  Jesus delivered me by the power of His  blood  and 
        started me on a heavenly path.
                  
             The  beginning  of my salvation was so  wonderful  that,  by 
        God's grace, I have never wanted to give up and turn back.   Even 
        though  Satan  has  fought me severely, I have  had  to say, "Get 
        behind me, Satan, I am going with Jesus of Nazareth.  I belong to 
        God."  The Lord being my Helper, I want to be faithful.  I  don't 
        want to be up and down, in and out.  I want to be true to Jesus.
             Observing this tremendous day in my life from the distance
        
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        of these intervening years, one brief moment  stands out in  bold 
        relief:  it  is the moment when my father said to me,  "Son,  you 
        will sing in the choir tonight."  If my dad had not been firm  in 
        his decision and given that command, I would never had met  Jesus 
        as  my  Saviour that night.  It might have been months  or  years 
        before I yielded to God, or perhaps never.
        
             But  that  was  the night God wanted to graft  me  into  the 
        True Vine.  That was the hour He had appointed to start getting me
        in readiness for the calling of God which had been upon me since 
        birth or before.  I would have missed that appointment had it not
        been for a father who expected obedience and demanded it.
        
             You see, that fleeting moment on Sunday evening, January 22, 
        1933--when  I  faced  my parents on the walk of  the  church  and 
        informed them of my own plans:  "I am going to the Rivoli Theater 
        with  the young people"--had been emerging for  nearly  seventeen 
        years.  Every time Dad had corrected me in the preceeding  months 
        and years; each time he had needed to whip me and disappoint  me: 
        these  moments were preparing me for that particular evening  and 
        this apparently insignificant encounter of wills.
        
             I did not want to go to church.  My will was to go with  the 
        young   people  to  the  theater.   But,  because  my   dad   had 
        unswervingly  demanded my obedience in the past; because  he  had 
        not  yielded  to the pathetic persuasion of a cute  and  adorable 
        youngster  in the preceeding years; he carried with him  absolute 
        authority  that night which spoke volumes in a few simple  words: 
        "You will sing in the choir tonight."
        
             Without  the  years  of consistent  adherence  to  continued 
        discipline and obedience within my life, I would have resisted my 
        parents  that  evening.  Either I would have argued  and  whined, 
        trying  to  get my own way, or else I would have done  what  they 
        wanted me to do, but with resentment and grumbling in my heart.
        
             But because my parents had broken me as a child to obey
        
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        their  every command, and obey willingly and joyfully,  I  didn't 
        argue  or  fuss.  I didn't murmur or complain.   I  didn't  carry 
        resentment or a grudge into the church with me.  As best as I can 
        remember, by God's grace, I didn't greatly mind not going to  the 
        theater,  and  this  was only because I had  been  accustomed  to 
        disappointment time after time in the preceding sixteen years.
        
             Because of my father's command, not only was I brought  into 
        the  necessary place to be drawn to Jesus, but my friend,  Thomas 
        B.,  was  affected as well.  His salvation, as well  as  my  own, 
        hinged on my father's life of discipline.
        
             As I observe across the years how hundreds and thousands  of 
        divine  guidances  have  been intricately  intertwined  with  the 
        preceding leadings of Jesus, the significance to my salvation  of 
        my   father's   life  of  discipline  and   obedience   increases 
        profoundly.   If it had not been for God working through  him  in 
        this  way, a great host of appointments in the Holy  Ghost  would 
        have  been missed.  I would have been out of step all  along  the 
        way.
        
             We  have discovered through experience that when God  orders 
        things,  a  matter of a few seconds can mean  the  difference  of 
        someone being saved or lost, a loved one being healed or left  in 
        affliction,  a family avoiding tragedy or going to accident.   It 
        is all because of the guidance of God, the direction of the  Holy 
        Spirit;  but if I had not started at God's time on  his  precious 
        path  of  trusting and obeying, I might have missed  hundreds  or 
        thousands  or  many more who were waiting on a lowly  servant  of 
        Jesus to come their way.
        
             My words aren't adequate to relate what I am seeing, for  in 
        this  walk with God, one revelation leads to another.  There  are 
        no  short cuts in God's ways or in God's timing.  If we  fail  at 
        one  point to obey His word or follow His guidance, then  we  set 
        out  of joint all that He had planned for us in the seconds,  the 
        minutes, the days and the years ahead.
        
             Of course, He is so gracious to forgive us and help us  when 
        we have failed.  But, if we only hold steady, continue
        
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        right on trusting and following the best we know without  looking 
        back,  He  will  bring us, by His grace, to  those  precious  and 
        sacred appointments with people or situations where He will  work 
        His  Kingdom  through us entirely for His  glory.   Almost  every 
        leading which the Holy Spirit has given me over thirty-some years 
        has  been  like this: the preceding guidance leads to  the  next.  
        BOLD  What God is able to do through me today pivots on  what  He 
        has  helped me to obey of His guidance months and  years  before.  
        END_BOLD
        
             Therefore, I am striving to appreciate the great debt I  owe 
        to  my  parents for training me in the way that I  should  go--in 
        absolute obedience to their wishes--for when the eternal fate  of 
        my  soul, and that of many others, hinged upon a single  response 
        to  my  father's  command, I was able  to  obey  immediately  and 
        without  contention.  I owe all to our loving Jesus; to the  work 
        and leading of the precious Holy Spirit of God.
        
    
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