In September, 1944, we were obliged to leave 301 East  North 
        Street because the house had been sold.  But God miraculously led 
        us  to  another home just at the last moment.   (There  are  many 
        marvelous guidances of the Holy Spirit which I could not  include 
        in  this  book  due to insufficient  space.   Perhaps,  the  Lord 
        willing,  they might be included in a companion volume some  time 
        in  the  future.)  About two years later the couple  owning  this 
        home  then  wanted  to  move back from  Ohio  to  again  take  up 
        residence  in their home, which meant that we would need to  move 
        once  more.   I  had no idea where we  could  locate  a  suitable 
        dwelling.
        
             When my wife's father and mother learned that we would  need 
        to  find another home, they visited us.  "We want you to come  to 
        our  house,"  they said.  So we went over to be  with  my  wife's 
        father and mother for what we thought would be two or three days, 
        and stayed almost seven years.
        
             It is common opinion that two families cannot live under the 
        same  roof  without  a little conflict.  To make  our  stay  with 
        Mother  and  Dad  Spence slightly more  involved,  we  had  three 
        daughters  with  us as well.  It is not an  easy  assignment  for 
        grandparents to live with grandchildren.  In addition, my  wife's 
        parents  believed in correcting children simply by  talking  with 
        them.   They did not especially want anyone to  correct  children 
        with a switch.  On the other hand, I was a strict disciplinarian.  
        Whenever  I  chastened our children, I took them into a  room  by 
        themselves so that our precious parents would not be hurt.
        
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             Mother and Dad Spence were so helpful to us.  By God's grace 
        we  got  along  wonderfully.  There was  never  a  difficulty  or 
        conflict.   And when two families can live under the same  roof-- 
        when grandchildren can live with grandparents without upheaval or 
        turmoil--it requires the Holy Spirit.
        
             When we left there, they loved us more than when we arrived.  
        We want to praise Jesus for this, because it is only through  Him 
        that  our love for one another after these seven years  was  even 
        greater  than  when  we first came.  My dear wife and  I  are  so 
        thankful for this precious memory, and for the help of God  which 
        made it possible.
        
             When  Jesus  revealed  to my heart in  1934  that  He  would 
        someday build us a home that would be a demonstration to all that 
        God  provides for His prophets today as He did of old, I did  not 
        start  asking,  "When is it going to be?  How is it going  to  be 
        done?"   By God's grace, I never once pressed to know more  about 
        it.  I simply left it in the hands of God.
        
             On  one occasion, while preaching in our first pastorate  in 
        1937  or  1938, without premeditation I suddenly said, "If  I  am 
        faithful  and true, win men and women, boys and girls  to  Jesus, 
        God is going to lead in the building of a home for my family some 
        time  in  the  future.  It will be a home built  by  faith."   My 
        congregation simply looked at me.  I received a similar  response 
        from  other dear people as I would share this from time  to  time 
        throughout the years.  It was a little difficult for them to hear 
        what  I was saying or to believe that God would actually lead  in 
        the building of a home.
        
             In  1950 I met a man of prayer who wanted me to come to  his 
        precious  congregation  for services in Grant City,  Indiana,  as 
        soon as the Lord would lead me.  When he did not hear from me for 
        many  months, he felt that perhaps God might never send  me.   At 
        ten o'clock one night he related to God in prayer, "Well, I guess 
        Your  servant  isn't coming to our little  church.   Perhaps  our 
        congregation  is too small.  I'll just turn this whole  situation 
        over  to  You, Father."  About four hours later  the  Holy  Ghost 
        revealed
        
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        that  I should call this servant of God to inform him that  Jesus 
        was leading me to be with him in just a few days.
        
             The  Grant  City  revival lasted for three  or  four  weeks, 
        during  which  time  this humble servant of  God  and  I  enjoyed 
        several  times of prayer together.  I learned that this  minister 
        was a real prayer warrior.  In fact, his son-in-law, Warren  Cox, 
        informed  me  that when the doctor examined him, he  found  thick 
        calluses  on his knees:  calluses resulting from waiting so  many 
        hours  a week before Almighty God.  I have been privileged to  be 
        with  him and a few others together in prayer many times  through 
        the years.  During those services we once prayed until  midnight.  
        On another occasion we prayed until four-fifteen in the  morning, 
        and another time we were together in prayer all night.  He  would 
        talk to God with such devotion, earnestness, and childlikeness. 
        
             During the third week of the revival, he and I were the last 
        to  leave the sanctuary following the Sunday morning service.   I 
        was  sharing with him how I had left all to follow Jesus and  had 
        known what it was like to have the moving van back up to our door 
        with  no  place  to  go; yet, how I was as  happy  as  if  I  had 
        everything.
        
             I  had  studied the scriptures, but until I left all  to  go 
        with  God  I  didn't really realize the  significance  of  Jesus' 
        words:  "There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or 
        sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or  lands,
        for my sake and the Gospel's, but he shall receive an 
        hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and  sisters, 
        and  mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions, and  in 
        the world to come eternal life."
        
             I  was  declaring to this loving brother how I  had  trusted 
        Jesus to one day build a home for us, and that I had been waiting 
        many  years  to  really pray with someone about the  home  to  be 
        built.   "I'll be glad to pray whenever the Lord leads," he  said 
        to  me  as  we put on our overcoats and  started  for  the  door.  
        Mother C. already had a lovely lunch waiting for us at her home a 
        few miles from the church.
        
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             Just  as  my hand touched the church door,  the  Holy  Ghost 
        operated within me to inform me that it was now time to pray.  We 
        had  waited  fifteen  years and eight months  for  this  leading.  
        Turning to this precious servant of God I said, "Brother Field, I 
        know  lunch is waiting, but we will have to go back to the  altar 
        and pray."
        
             "Wonderful!" he rejoiced.  "Wonderful!"
        
             Soon  two  men who loved Jesus more than they loved  to  eat 
        were  in earnest prayer at the altar.  We had just begun to  pray 
        when,  caught away in the wonder of intercession,  Brother  Field 
        and I suddenly realized ourselves to be with Abraham and Isaac on 
        Mount  Moriah!   My  brother was praying  as  to  the  scriptural 
        account of Isaac being sacrificed on the altar which Abraham  had 
        just  built.  It was as though, in the Spirit, we were  close  by 
        observing  in  prayer  this  marvelous  event.   I  have   seldom 
        experienced anything like this in prayer before or since.
        
             The  lad's voice was heard to ask, "Where is the  sacrifice, 
        Father?"  And Abraham answered, "The Lord will provide, my  Son."  
        (The  scene  was so real, I cannot explain how vivid it  all  was 
        through  the  Holy Spirit.)  Abraham bound the hands of  the  boy 
        whom he loved as his own life and laid him upon the sticks of the 
        altar.   He raised the knife overhead to plunge it into the  tiny 
        body,  when the angel's voice spoke, "It is enough!"  I  saw  the 
        patriarch turn and behold a ram caught in the  thicket by its horns.
        At that moment the Holy Ghost witnessed to me: "YOUR HOME IS AS
        A RAM CAUGHT IN A THICKET."  It was a thrilling moment of sacred
        revelation.
        
             The  following summer my youngest brother, Edward,  assisted 
        me in revival services at the Friends Church in Shirley, Indiana, 
        by  leading the singing.  To express their appreciation  for  his 
        assistance  the  congregation wished to take up an  offering  for 
        him.   As the plates were being passed Edward leaned over  to  me 
        and  asked, "Would it be alright with the Lord and with you if  I 
        just take this offering and start a 
 
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        fund  for  the home to be built by faith?  We could call  it  the 
        `Ram Fund.'"
        
             I said, "Brother, that would be wonderful!"
        
             The beginning was sixteen dollars and a few cents.  When the 
        idea  of  a  "Ram  Fund" was shared with  dear  ones  who  prayed 
        regularly with us, it seemed to touch the hearts of a few saints.  
        We began to search for a place where the home might be built, but 
        every possibility was blocked by Satan.  (I know of few things in 
        my  experience which the devil fought more severely than  he  did 
        this  home  to be built by faith in Jesus.  My  words  can  never 
        describe  to you the many battles and struggles which  we  passed 
        through to accomplish God's purpose in this project.  It has been 
        only  by  God's  grace  and  mercy  that  it  came  to  pass   so 
        beautifully.)
        
             It  was during this time that the Lord revealed to my  heart 
        early  one  morning,  "You are going to Texas to pray  with  Rev. 
        Pumphrey  regarding  two issues:  the Holy Ghost Revival  to  the 
        World,  and  your home to be built by faith."  The next  day  God 
        brought a man twenty miles to give us the seventy dollars for the 
        journey.
        
             When  our twin daughters heard of my intended  journey  they 
        said,  "Daddy, here you are going on a trip of  about  twenty-two 
        hundred miles and we need shoes.  We only have one pair of  shoes 
        apiece  and  they are nearly worn out.  Our playmate has  two  or 
        three pairs of shoes, and you have told us now for several  weeks 
        that  one of these days God would provide us a new pair."  All  I 
        could tell our girls was that I was trusting Jesus to supply  the 
        need.
        
             That night Florence and I took our three daughters forty-two 
        miles one way to visit my parents and other friends.  During  the 
        course  of the evening we had three or four prayer meetings,  and 
        when  we  returned home we had four five-dollar bills  which  had 
        been given to us:  two dollars for Jesus and eighteen dollars for 
        the girls' shoes.  God had provided!  Praise the Lord.
        
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             When  we  knelt to have family prayer that evening  a  great 
        burden moved upon my heart.  It was still on me the next  morning 
        and  I  was unable to locate it in all the parishes  I  had  ever 
        served  or  among the people I had known.  I did  not  comprehend 
        what  all  was  involved in this  spiritual  operation--I  simply 
        entrusted it to Jesus.
        
             My   route  to  Texas  was  different  than  my   accustomed 
        itinerary,  for the Lord had made it plain that I was not  to  go 
        directly  from St. Louis to Waco, Texas; rather, I was to take  a 
        train  from St. Louis to Hearne, Texas, then go by bus the  sixty 
        miles from Hearne to Waco.  I didn't understand this  round-about 
        route, but I didn't try:  God simply wanted me to follow.
        
             Along  the  course  of the journey  Jesus  permitted  me  to 
        witness  to  a  few  persons.   When I  arrived  in  Waco  I  was 
        privileged to preach in Homer Pumphrey's congregation, where  God 
        gave  me  a few friends.  The following day I  enjoyed  wonderful 
        fellowship  with  a man who loved the Bible dearly  and  knew  it 
        remarkably  well.  The Spirit of the Lord was upon me, and during
        our first hour together a cowboy came into the room and stayed for
        two hours. At the close of the fellowship he said, "You would be
        welcome in my home any time."  I learned later that this  fellow
        generally disappeared in five minutes every time a minister came
        around.  But God gave me favor with this precious man.  A short
        time later I was privileged to be with him when he came to Jesus.
        
             As we returned home that night Homer asked me, "When are  we 
        going  to  have  the prayer meeting that God told  you  about  in 
        Indiana?"  Just as he asked me that the Holy Spirit spoke  within 
        me,  revealing:   "I am with you.  I will lead you."  I  told  my 
        brother that Jesus would arrange it.
        
             Not  many  minutes  later I was down on one  knee  in  their 
        kitchen telling them how God had sent my wife and me to the Smoky 
        Mountains  for rest in 1951.  We were heading for  Gatlinburg  to 
        find a motel, but my wife was becoming ill.  I realized that  she 
        wasn't well and needed to lie down
        
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        as  soon  as possible.  Nonetheless, in spite of her  illness,  I 
        said to her, "Honey, we must find the right place to stay."
        
             Stopping at the first motel, I was shown a lovely room which 
        would have cost us only five dollars a night.  The Lord revealed, 
        "Don't  stay here."  So we went to another motel.  This room  was 
        also  lovely, with fresh linen, towels, hot water, and  soap.   A 
        king  could have lived in that room and felt comfortable.   Jesus 
        helped me to know, however, that we could not stay there  either.  
        We  went to the third place, and again God told me that this  was 
        not  His choice.  By this time my wife informed me that  she  was 
        feeling  worse,  so  I  cried  out,  "Oh,  Jesus--help  my  wife!  
        Encourage  her,  strengthen her!"  And through  Jesus'  help,  my 
        precious companion was able to sit up and go a while longer.
        
             It  was  not an easy assignment for me to see  my  companion 
        suffer,  but there was only one thing to do and that  was  follow 
        the  leading of the Holy Spirit.  The human tendency  would  have 
        taken  the first motel room in order to get my companion  quickly 
        comfortable.  But I was to make the choice for God's will  rather 
        than for my wife's immediate comfort.
        
             Whether  you know it or not, you are continually  under  the 
        observation  of God.  He is noticing whether you are going to  do 
        His  will or not.  He was looking then to see if I was  going  to 
        let  this  sickness bend me to the choice of the earth, or  if  I 
        would  press on to His holy plan.  Most people will not do  God's 
        will  under stress.  They will pamper the flesh and bend  to  the 
        pressures of man.  They will choose that which appears reasonable 
        or  expedient.   Because  of this, God's  will  has  seldom  been 
        followed continuously and consistently in all the ages.   But 
        all followers of Jesus must press to do, not their own will,
        but God's will at all times. 
        
             We  found  a fourth motel but it also  was  not  the  place.  
        However,  as I walked up the steps of the fifth motel,  the  Holy 
        Spirit said, "This is the place."
        
             I spoke with the manager, mentioning that I was a  minister.  
        "That's wonderful," he said.  "My father was a minister."
        
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        After we had talked a few minutes he remarked, "You know, I  have 
        the  feeling  that  you are going to stay with  us."   (I  rather 
        wondered  how  he could have known that.  I'm sure the  Lord  had 
        sent  me  this way to help answer the petitions of  his  minister 
        father  which had been prayed some forty to fifty  years  before.  
        How  God  wants to order our steps to answer the prayers  of  His 
        children.)
        
             This man showed us to cabin number six.  On the way I saw  a 
        woman coming towards us with a shining face.  "Praise the  Lord!" 
        I  greeted  her.   She responded with,  "Glory!"--and  we  had  a 
        meeting right there in the yard.  This was just the beginning  of 
        many  marvelous events, too numerous to include in  this  volume, 
        which took place in later years because of God leading us to this 
        particular motel.
        
             In  three or four days our money was gone; so we  packed  to 
        start  back  home.   Stopping at the office to  return  the  keys 
        before  finding  a place to eat breakfast, I told Sister  T.  and 
        Sister  C., "I want to thank the Lord for the privilege  my  wife 
        and I have had of being here these days with you."
        
             One  of the women remarked, "Brother Helm, you haven't  sung 
        for us yet."
        
             "That  is  right," I agreed and called for my wife  to  come 
        into the office.  I have seldom seen my wife as hungry as she was 
        that  morning, for it was almost noon and we had not  yet  eaten.  
        Nevertheless,  she cheerfully accompanied me to the grand  piano, 
        and together we sang:

               There's a Rose that is blooming for you, friend,
               There's a Rose that is blooming for me;
               Its perfume is pervading the world, friend,
               Its perfume is for you and for me.
        
               All in vain did they crush this fair flower, friend,
               All in vain did they shatter the tree;
               For its roots, deeply bedded, sprang forth, friend,
               And it blooms still for you and for me. 
        
                                           --H. R. Palmer
        
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             Then,  as  we  began to sing  "I walk  with  the  King," 
          the glory fell upon us.  Until ten minutes till two  in 
        the  afternoon we preached and sang with the anointing of God  on 
        our  souls.  When the glory of God was falling the sweetest,  one 
        sister  turned  to the other and asked, "Have you ever  felt  the 
        power of the Holy Spirit like this in your life?"
        
             The sister replied, "Only one time--when Gypsy Smith was  in 
        a meeting at Decatur, Illinois."
        
             And  just that second, while I was sharing  this  experience 
        with Homer and his wife in Waco, Texas, God spoke to me,  saying:  
        "You  are  now before the Throne concerning the  two  issues  for 
        which I sent you to pray."
        
             We  rejoiced!  For five to ten minutes I pled with  God  for 
        the  outpouring  of the Holy Spirit upon all the earth  (and  the 
        Holy Spirit bears witness now as I tell you).  I cried for Him to 
        send  the  mighty refreshings of His Spirit that fell  long  ago.  
        And  He  said,  "I hear your prayer."  Then we  came  before  Him 
        concerning  the  home to be built by faith, for we  had  no  idea 
        where  we  would  be  able to find a lot,  nor  where  the  first 
        foundation block or the first studding was coming from.
        
             The  next morning as I sat on the bus which was to  take  me 
        the  sixty  miles out of my way to Hearne, Texas,  to  board  the 
        train  to St. Louis, a young lady asked if she might  occupy  the 
        seat  next to me.  I told her that she might.  When she  put  her 
        handbag on the rack overhead I said to her, "This is a  wonderful 
        day the Lord has given, isn't it?"
        
             Jesus  whispered in my heart, "You be quiet and I will  tell 
        you what to say."
        
             I answered, "Yes, Father."
        
             So  I was still until God told me what to say.  I spoke  and 
        waited  for His instruction.  Soon He had me sharing more,  until 
        the glory of God began to fill that old bus.  I was revealing  to 
        her the joys of salvation as if I were talking to a crowd of  one 
        hundred  persons.  I was explaining how to make one's way to  the 
        Straight Gate, wherein if a man would
        
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        confess  his sins he'd be saved, transformed, lose his  darkness, 
        and receive the inner joy of Jesus.
        
             Looking  over I saw her face was bright; it was  all  aglow.  
        "Sister! Did you just follow me in the instruction?"  I asked.
        
             She nodded, "Yes, I did."
        
             "Then you have peace and joy in your heart?"
        
             She replied with sweet assurance, "I have!"
        
             I  rejoiced.   My,  I  was  happy!   Within  seconds  I  saw 
        beckoning  hands  in a vision.  I said, "Oh, Sister--I  see  that 
        there  are those calling you from foreign lands as well  as  home 
        lands,  saying, `Come and tell us the story of  Jesus.'   Sister, 
        you are a missionary.  You are called to preach the Gospel of the 
        Lord Jesus Christ."
        
             As this was announced to her by the Spirit, I saw big  tears 
        in her eyes.  In a few moments she answered, "I had wondered what 
        I was to do.  I had asked for help, and God has sent it."
        
             Half-a-mile  to  a  mile farther  down  the  highway  toward 
        Hearne,  Texas,  the  Holy Spirit spoke to  my  heart:   "Do  you 
        remember the burden you had on Friday night and Saturday  morning 
        before you left on this trip?"
        
             I replied, "Oh, well do I recall."
        
             God  said,  "The burden you had, my Son, was for  the  woman 
        just saved whom I have called to be my missionary."
        
             Sent  by  the  Lord of all Heaven on a  journey  for  prayer 
        concerning  the home to be built by faith, we found  a  priceless 
        soul  called to declare the Gospel of Christ.  What  a  marvelous 
        privilege.
        
             After returning from Texas I was very thankful that God  had 
        heard prayer for the home which He was going to build, but I  had 
        no  idea how it would be done.  However, Jesus had His own  plan, 
        which I was simply to wait upon.
        
             One day a minister friend and his wife visited us.  She  was 
        under  a  heavy burden.  When we prayed to locate  what  God  was 
        revealing  to her, the Holy Ghost said, "Her burden is  for  your 
        home.  You are to get started."
        
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             "Glory  to  God!"  I nearly shouted.  Jesus  had  given  the 
        signal  to start.  Her husband accompanied me as I went to  speak 
        to Mr. Thornburg, my banker, about lot number seven of the W.  E. 
        Baker  Addition  of our village--a lot which the  banker  himself 
        owned.
        
             "Well, Loran," he said cordially, "first of all I'm so  glad 
        that you and Florence have decided to stay here in this community 
        with  us.   But as far as that lot is concerned,  a  number  have 
        already wished to buy it.  What will they think of us if we  sell 
        it  to  you?  And, we have likewise thought of  someday  building 
        there  ourselves."  I explained to him that he simply would  have 
        to meditate about it and decide what he felt best.  "Who is going 
        to help you build this house?" he inquired.
        
             I said, "God."
        
             "That is wonderful," he replied, "but where is the money?"
        
             "God  is going to build this home," I reiterated, and  began 
        to  share with him how God had revealed to my heart in 1934  that 
        He would some day provide for us a home which was to be built  by 
        faith in Jesus.
        
             "That  sounds good," he told me kindly, "but how  about  the 
        money for the materials and the supplies?"
        
             "Well, God knows where it is," I answered.
        
             "Don't  you have a backlog of savings or cash to  start  the 
        building?" he asked.
        
             I  said, "No.  There are a few brothers and sisters  in  the 
        prayer  band who have sacrificed to help us.  They haven't  much, 
        but we are trusting God to supply."
        
             "You  come back tomorrow," he told us.  "I will talk  to  my 
        wife  to  decide whether or not we can let you  have  lot  number 
        seven."
        
             "I would like to have prayer before we leave," I mentioned.
        
             "That  would  be fine," he agreed.  And if  they  never  had 
        anyone  down  on  their knees in the council room  of  that  bank 
        before,  they  had one that January day of 1952.   When  I  said, 
        "Amen," the banker said, "Amen," for he was a
        
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        precious  brother:   a  man faithful to attend  church  and  also 
        prayer meeting when he could.  He was my friend then and still is 
        now.
      
             The following day, accompanied by another minister friend, I 
        made my way back to the bank.  As I opened the bank door the Holy 
        Ghost fell through my body pleasantly.  My banker friend inquired 
        how  I  was getting along, and I answered, "I am  trusting."   He 
        asked if I had yet acquired a backlog of cash or assets.  "No," I 
        acknowledged, but I believe God will provide.  This home will  be 
        built by God.  The Lord is going to do this."
        
             "That sounds good," he said with warmth and concern, "but  I 
        would  hate to see you get a few studdings up in the air and  not 
        be  able  to complete it."  Mr. Thornburg lived just  across  the 
        alley  from  lot  number  seven and he had  more  than  simply  a 
        professional  interest  in our home being completed  if  it  were 
        begun.   It  is remarkable to me that this precious  man  was  so 
        gracious  and understanding when there was  little  justification 
        from a business point of view for even considering our request at 
        all.
        
             "Brother,"  I told him, "I believe that is where faith  will 
        come in."
        
             He  looked  at me, then said kindly, "That's  fine--you  may 
        have the lot."
        
             I  was on my knees in that office as quickly as I could  get 
        there, thanking God in Jesus' name for this miracle! 
        
             When I left the bank that day I made my way in a slight mist 
        of rain to lots number six and seven on South Fulton Street.   My 
        brother owned lot number six and had been gracious to promise  us 
        fourty-four feet of his property if the banker would sell us  lot 
        number seven, making our lot ninety-eight feet by 132 feet.
        
             I  was  rejoicing, for this least servant had  been  waiting 
        many  years for this day.  I got down on my knees in  that  mist, 
        looked  up,  and  prayed,  "Oh,  Lord  God--this  lot  is  Yours.  
        Sanctify it from side to side and end to end."  And
        
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        God  sanctified that whole place to His name's honor  and  glory.  
        He has told me since then, "This place is mine.  This belongs  to 
        me."  Seldom has He told me this about lands or buildings  across 
        the United States.
        
             In a short time about six or seven hundred dollars came into 
        the  "Ram Fund."  This was enough to purchase the lot as well  as 
        the cement, the sand, the gravel, and the blocks for the  footing 
        of  the  foundation.   A  friend had  volunteered  to  bring  his 
        bulldozer  and  prepare the lot, but we had no idea how  we  were 
        going  to  continue  building.   We  were  simply  trusting   and 
        rejoicing.

             Some six to eight days after the banker had sold us the lot, 
        my father-in-law knocked on the door of our room (for we were  at 
        that  time  living  with my wife's parents)  to  inform  me  that 
        someone  wanted to see me.  I had prayed until one or two in  the 
        morning  and was still exhausted.  Instead of putting on my  robe 
        to  come out to pray with the visitor, as was my custom, I  asked 
        my  father-in-law to send him into the room while I  remained  in 
        bed.
        
             Presently  into the room came a timid, gentle man leading  a 
        small  boy by the hand.  They entered quietly and sat in a  chair 
        across the room.  "I am Horace Reynolds," the man quietly stated.  
        "I  have heard of the home to be built by faith."  From  where  I 
        lay  on  the bed I could see moisture standing in his  eyes.   "I 
        just  wondered," he continued very slowly, word by word, "if  you 
        would  accept  the trees in my woods for the  materials  of  your 
        home?"
        
             I  tell you, I was out of that bed and on my knees,  saying, 
        "Thank  You, Jesus!  You have provided the lot; You have sent  in 
        finance  for  the footing and the foundation; and  now  You  have 
        given us the wood for the floor joists, the ribs, and the rafters 
        of  this home.  We praise Thee, our Father, for doing  this!"   I 
        sanctified  the trees right there on that bedroom floor.  To  say 
        that I was happy would not express the deep joy and  thanksgiving 
        in my heart for God providing like this.
        
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             Thirty  of Brother Reynolds' eighty acres comprised  a  fine 
        woods, which appeared as if stock had never grazed in it.  When I 
        took  a  sawyer  friend  to view the trees  he  told  me  in  his 
        delightful  Swiss accent, "Loran, these are quality trees!"   But 
        the woods was far back on the property, with many dense  thickets 
        of smaller trees all around.  I knew that it would take a miracle 
        to get the large trees out after they were felled.
        
             We had additional difficulties in finding someone to cut the 
        trees.   From about January tenth to March nineteenth  we  looked 
        for  a  man to do the cutting.  One person agreed to do  it,  but 
        when  it  came  time for the job, he said  that  his  hands  were 
        swollen  and  he wouldn't be able to work.  It seemed as  if  the 
        devil  was  fighting severely, but we continued to  seek  and  to 
        pray.
        
             After  over  two  months  of diligent  search  I  located  a 
        Christian  man  willing to fell the trees.  In a bank barn  on  a 
        rainy afternoon I met with him, having a little prayer  together.  
        He  told me, "Rev. Helm, I'll cut your trees down the  day  after 
        tomorrow--March twenty-first."
        
            "Praise  the Lord!" I exclaimed with thanksgiving.  God  had 
        provided the man we needed after this long delay.
        
             On March 21, 1952--five years to the day that we had come to 
        live  with Mother and Dad Spence--I wakened early, put on my  old 
        clothes, and left the house so thrilled that I forgot to take any 
        sack  lunch  with me.  All I could think about  was  getting  the 
        trees  ready for the home.  The day was sharp and cold.   Brother 
        Reynolds got me his old Army hat to cover me up better, for I'm a 
        cold-natured  person.   That hat covered me down to my  chin.   I 
        still  wear it sometimes in the winter when I go out to burn  the 
        trash.
        
             When  the  workmen  felled the first tree  they  said,  "Now 
        Brother Helm, we would like for you to take hold of this saw  and 
        cut the first log for the home built by faith."  It was the first 
        time I had ever taken hold of a saw like that.  What a thrill  it 
        was to see it cut down through that first log for the home  which 
        God was building for His glory.
        
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             It  was  soon time for lunch, but I had failed to  bring  my 
        food.  Therefore I was trying to slip off into the woods so  that 
        the men wouldn't notice.  "Here! Rev Helm!  Where are you going?" 
        the foreman called out.  I told him that I thought I would go  on 
        the  other side of the woods while they ate.  But he  said,  "Oh, 
        no.   You  come back and share a sandwich.  I want  you  to  have 
        grace before we eat."  I tried to tell them that they had  worked 
        hard  and  that I was not worthy to have any of their  food,  but 
        they insisted.
        
             I  got down on my knees beside them, took off that old  Army 
        cap, pulled my coat around me, and looked up toward Heaven to ask 
        God's  blessing on this humble lunch.  As I started  to  sanctify 
        those  little  sack lunches I suddenly entered  into  a  heavenly 
        banquet hall.  The glory of the Lord came down and I was as happy 
        as  if I were in a king's palace. The joy of the Lord was all 
        around us and within us.
        
             Opening my eyes I looked at the man sitting on the far log-- 
        a  man who had told me earlier in the day that, to his shame,  he 
        knew more gamblers and drunkards than anybody in  New Castle--and 
        his  face was all aglow.  The tears were coming down his  cheeks.  
        Right  in the midst of grace for the table, he was close  to  the 
        Kingdom of God and was about as happy as I was.  Because God, not 
        man, had ordained that this home be built,  He just sent a little 
        of  His  Kingdom into the woods on the first day that  the  trees 
        were being cut for the ribs and joists of the home to be built by 
        faith, and softened a hardened sinner's heart.  Praise the Lord!
        
             In  those seven days one hundred trees were felled, a  total 
        of  24,400 square feet of quality white oak, red oak, bass  wood, 
        and other varieties.  When the trees had gone through the sawmill 
        and the lumber had been delivered on the lot, several men of  our 
        community marveled at it.  "This is the best bunch of timber I've 
        seen  in many a day," one precious man said.  Another was  amazed 
        that it had so few knots in it.  Brother and Sister Reynolds  had 
        given  us  the best of their woods, and my prayer  was  that  God 
        would, in
        
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        turn, give the best of everything back to them.  I still call him 
        every  once  in a while to tell him how deeply I  appreciate  his 
        obedience in giving us the fine trees of his woods.
        
             On March twenty-eighth the last tree was cut--a red oak  138 
        years old:  which meant that it had been a small sapling when  my 
        great, great-grandfather helped build the church in Windsor  over 
        one hundred years ago.  It was being grown then to become a  part 
        of the home which God would build for his great,  great-grandson, 
        who was going to walk with God.  Praise the Lord!
        
             When  we  had  started to cut the trees the  lane  had  been 
        filled  with  water; but the weather had so  wonderfully  changed 
        that  by the end of the week we could drive the car back  to  the 
        woods.  Climbing into the car with the three men who had cut down 
        all  this beautiful timber I said, "Brothers, now that  you  have 
        finished  your  labor, would you allow me the privilege  of  just 
        talking  to  Jesus for a moment?"  And as I thanked God  for  all 
        those trees I began to weep.  It was precious how God visited  us 
        in that car.  They drove me up to the barn lot, where I gave them 
        the  two  hundred  twenty dollars and some cents  which  God  had 
        provided  for this work.  We were so very thankful for  all  that 
        had been done for us in every way.
        
             Before  I  left  the farm, Brother  Reynolds  and  his  son, 
        Philip, got into the car with me.  We had another prayer meeting; 
        then  I was ready to start for home since I had  revival services 
        that night.  But the Holy Spirit said, "Wait--don't move."
        
             As  we waited in the car, Brother Reynolds began to tell  me 
        about   a  certain  man.   He  had  not  shared  long  before   I 
        interrupted.   "Why I know him!  He was converted  in  Greensboro 
        when I was there!"  And I began to relate how Jesus had wooed his 
        heart  and drawn him to the cross.  Soon I was shouting,  Brother 
        Reynolds  was weeping, and as I turned to look at Philip  in  the 
        back seat I saw the light of Jesus all over his face.   "Philip," 
        I asked, "did you just find Jesus?"
        
             And he answered, "Yes."
        
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             Still rejoicing that a soul had been saved, I again thought, 
        "Surely  I  must  be on my way."  God  again  said,  "Wait--don't 
        move."  Isn't it wonderful that Jesus could tell me not to  leave 
        that place?  God has shown me that if we in the church don't wait 
        on  Him enough, we won't be able to discern His will:   we  won't 
        perceive  Him when He operates with us; we won't understand  what 
        He is showing us.
        
             We  in  the ministry and the laity need to wait  on  God  in 
        order  that He can teach us how to proceed and can reveal  to  us 
        what He wants next.  If we don't know what God wills to do in our 
        daily lives and in our church services, it is like trying to have 
        school  with teachers who don't know their ABC's. If we try to have
        church without first waiting on God long enough that He might teach
        us His ABC's, how can we expect to have His Kingdom in our midst?
        
             Please try to observe what God is teaching us here about the 
        seriousness  of  really walking with Him.  I wanted to  go  home.  
        The trees were cut down.  I was ready to get started.  Do you see 
        what I would have missed if I had gone?--I would have missed  the 
        conversion  of this precious boy, who has been a minister of  the 
        Gospel now for a few years.
        
             God  has  much for us to do if He can get us  quiet  enough.  
        But  He  had  to  slay me for months and  years  before  I  could 
        understand His guidances and His operations.  I had to walk  with 
        Him  for years and wait before Him on my knees hundreds of  hours 
        while He taught me how to listen to and obey Him.
        
             We  do  not  need  intellectual  attainment  and   aesthetic 
        sensitivity  in  the church today as much as we  need  a  genuine 
        humbleness of heart.  I know that we need education, but we  need 
        far more a brokenness within, a desire to wait upon God and  love 
        Him for Himself alone.  God wants to teach us of Himself, but too 
        often we prefer, instead, to follow the patterns of men.
        
             One  fact will never change: to be taught of God will 
        crucify the natural tendencies and the reasonable plans of
        the fleshly  mind.  Very few have ever been willing to 
        follow the path to
        
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        God  which daily crucifies what we want to do, how we want to  do 
        it, and the time schedule in which it is to be accomplished.  The 
        path which leads to a true fellowship with God leads directly and 
        inevitably  to the Cross.  One cannot bypass it, or he steps  off 
        the Narrow Way.
        
             I  was wanting to go, but God had instructed me to wait.   I 
        asked,  "Jesus, what is it?"  The Lord spoke in my heart, "It  is 
        the boy's eyes.  Philip has trouble in his eyes."
        
             Ten  seconds after Jesus revealed this to my heart,  Brother 
        Reynolds, in his quiet way, spoke very softly, "My son can't  see 
        very  well."  Opening my Thompson Chain Reference Bible I  turned 
        to the thirteenth chapter of Hebrews and held it for the boy to 
        read, but he could not even read the large type.
        
             I reached back over the seat, put my thumb and index  finger 
        of my right hand on this young man's eyes, and called to God.   I 
        prayed  once  and then again.  When I started praying  the  third 
        time the Holy Ghost came into my arm with great power.  This  had 
        never  taken place at any time in my life before.  My  arm  shook 
        with  the power of God going through it.  I knew beyond a  shadow 
        of doubt that this boy was going to see.
        
             When  I  again held up my Bible, Philip not  only  read  the 
        large  type,  he came right down and read the small  print  where 
        Paul  says: "Remember them that are in bonds, as  bound with 
        them; and them which suffer adversity, as being  yourselves also
        in the body."   His daddy was weeping with thanksgiving and I
        was rejoicing. This man had given the best of his woods to God's
        least servant, and on the day that the last tree for the home 
        built by faith was cut, God saved his son and opened his eyes.
        Glory to God!
        
             One of my brothers in Jesus sent his partner, John L.,  with 
        his  bulldozer to clear a path for the trucks to reach the  woods 
        that we might haul the logs to the mill.  This dear man, who  was 
        to  find Jesus a short while later, returned home the  first  day 
        with  the  report, "I have never seen so many  preachers  in  one 
        woods in all my life!"
        
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             Many were assisting us in loading logs on the truck by means 
        of  skids, chains, and a tractor.  We were inexperienced at  this 
        type of work, but the Lord helped us move eleven loads of logs to 
        the mill some three-and-a-half miles away.  Everything was  going 
        fine  on the twelfth load as each log was secured by  chains  and 
        pulled up the skids by the tractor.  A man on each end of the log 
        guided  each  piece into its proper position.  Just  as  the  men 
        hooked  onto  the last log of the twelfth load  the  Holy  Spirit 
        spoke  to  me.   "Wait a moment," I called  out.   "Something  is 
        wrong!"
        
             "What  do you mean?" they asked.  "We're doing it just  like 
        all the other times.  It's not any different."
        
             "But  Jesus tells me something is not quite right,"  I  told 
        them again.  "There is danger."
        
             "We can't see it," they said.
             "I know it," I agreed, "I can't see it either.  But you  men 
        stay away from the ends of the log.  Don't follow it up,  because 
        something is wrong."
        
             They  believed  my  report and stood aside  as  the  tractor 
        started  pulling  the log up the skids.  When it was  just  about 
        eleven  inches from reaching the top of the load and easing  into 
        place, the chains suddenly broke and that log came hurtling  down 
        with a crash!  If it had not been for the Holy Ghost warning  us, 
        those  men could have been crushed to death.  How we praised  God 
        for His guidance!
        
             After  my  dear  friend  had  bulldozed  the  lot,  we  were 
        preparing  to lay the footing and foundation.  A man by the  name 
        of Forrest J. brought the sand and gravel for the beginning work, 
        and  God gave us a Holy Ghost meeting with him.  When  he  dumped 
        the sand and gravel he said, "Don't worry about what this  costs.  
        I  have been blessed more than these materials are  worth."   God 
        had given us a rejoicing time over the sand and gravel that  made 
        up  the  footings  of the home.  Praise His  wonderful  Name  for 
        making a way where there seemed to be none.
        
             We had many prayer meetings in each section as the home
        
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        began  to  take form in the rough; for as we began to  see  God's 
        revelation  to  my  heart come to pass, we were  humbled  and  so 
        grateful.   The Holy Spirit began to move upon the hearts of  his 
        people.  A man in the North, whom I had led to Jesus by the  help 
        of the Holy Spirit in 1946, said to me, "You need some help.   We 
        have  a burden for you."  I told him that we were  just  trusting 
        the Lord and he replied, "Here is two hundred dollars and a check 
        for  five hundred dollars.  In a few days a check for a  thousand 
        dollars  will  come  and in so many days  another  thousand  will 
        come."    This  sacrificial  act  of  obedience   permitted   the 
        carpenters to begin erecting the frame of the house.
        
             During this period a number of persons in our little village 
        were conjecturing, "That home will soon be stopped.  It can't  be 
        done."   One person spoke to a minister friend about us  at  that 
        time saying, "Well, the boy has gotten along pretty well  through 
        the years, but building this home by faith is a mountain he  will 
        never  cross.   He can't climb over this.  It's  too  high."   Of 
        course, I couldn't have gotten over anything.  But I had an Elder 
        Brother  who was making the path and leading the way.  His  hands 
        were  mighty to deliver.  His hands were beautiful to  save.   He 
        could reach around the universe to the end of all things.   Glory 
        to God!
        
             The  entire  project  was far beyond  anything  I  had  ever 
        dreamed, for we did not make the choice of the home which was  to 
        be built.  My wife and daughters were to look over various  plans 
        for homes, but none was right until we came to this specific one.  
        It  included two stories with living room, dining room,  kitchen, 
        prayer  room,  foyer,  utility, hallway, bath  with  shower,  and 
        garage downstairs; upstairs--four bedrooms, hallway, and complete 
        bath.  This home was so large that when we contemplated building, 
        it  seemed  to me as if I were actually trying to  climb  over  a 
        large  mountain.  I didn't know where all the labor and  supplies 
        were  going to come from, but somehow the Lord gave me the  sweet 
        assurance that He would take care.
        
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             One day, after they had brought a load of lumber to the lot, 
        I went with a friend to the restaurant in Farmland for lunch.  We 
        had just finished the blessing when I saw this man seated at  the 
        counter.   The Lord said, "He has back trouble," revealing to  me 
        the  location of the difficulty.  I spoke to the man just  a  few 
        feet away saying, "My Brother, do you have back trouble?"  And he 
        said that he did have.  "Is it right here?" I asked, pointing  to 
        the place Jesus had shown me.
        
             "That is where it is," he admitted.
        
             "Would  you give God all the praise, all the honor, and  all 
        the glory if He would heal you right now?" I asked him.  He  said 
        that he surely would; so I asked God in Heaven to send His  power 
        into  this man's back, to put all the cartilages and  bones  into 
        place  for  His glory.  When prayer was finished I asked  him  to 
        lean over and touch the floor, which he did!  God had healed  him 
        instantly.   He  was so touched by Jesus' love that  he  went  to 
        services  the same evening and began his affiliation  within  the 
        church.  The owner of the restaurant told me some time later this 
        man had not had that trouble in his back since.
        
             While  we continued eating lunch that day, we  were  talking 
        about  the  town of Shirley, Indiana, where my friend  lived  and 
        where, also, my father was then pastoring.  As we talked, such  a 
        terrible burden came upon me that I told my friend, "My  brother, 
        I have such a burden for Shirley, Indiana.  It is severe!  I have 
        to pray."  I quietly began to plead, "Oh, God, take care of  this 
        town.  You know about the situation that's coming.  Take care and 
        drive  back  whatever  this is."  I cried and pled  until  I  was 
        relieved.   "You'll  know when you get home what this  means,"  I 
        told my friend.
        
             That  evening  Florence, the girls, and I  were  away  until 
        late,  and upon our arrival home Mother Spence informed  us  that 
        someone had phoned several times while we had been gone.  When  I 
        returned  the  call,  I discovered that it  was  my  friend  from 
        Shirley.  "Rev. Helm," he related with excitement, "do
        
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        you remember how God dealt with you today at the restaurant about 
        this town of Shirley?  Well, I want to tell you that I came  home 
        and  was standing out in my father's back yard telling him  about 
        the wonderful things God has been doing, when we saw this tornado 
        coming  into  Shirley from the West.  It was a  terrible  thing!"  
        (My  father  saw it and told me afterwards that  he  never  again 
        wanted to see anything like it.)
        
             But do you know what God did?  He permitted the tornado only 
        to damage the lumber yard a little before taking the fury of  the 
        storm  right  up in the air, where it blew apart.  Not  a  single 
        person was killed.  God was so good to answer prayer and deliver.
        
             For  one year the raw timber in the floor joists, the  ribs, 
        and the rafters needed to stand exposed to the elements in  order 
        to  cure.  The home in the rough was not a very attractive  sight 
        with  naked  timbers  standing starkly  against  the  sky.   Some 
        persons  rather  ridiculed it, calling it "the  barn."   But  the 
        rough  timbers which made our home then appear ugly also gave  it 
        such unusual strength.  My dear friend who works with huge earth-
        moving  equipment told us that he would not be afraid to run  his 
        heavy  crane  right over the second story.  If you had  seen  the 
        huge white oak floor joists, you would really begin to understand 
        that God gave us the very best materials for this home (though it 
        will be only by God's help and protection that our home could  be 
        kept safe in all types of situations in the future).
        
             Other dear ones felt led of the Lord to offer us assistance.  
        (May I say that I did not ask anyone at any time for help  unless 
        he  had first asked me what he could do to assist me.)   One  man 
        said  to me, "You need help.  Come over to see me."  He  took  me 
        into a bank and gave me five hundred dollars to buy doors and the 
        plyscore sheathing for the subflooring of the entire  downstairs.  
        When  we needed windows and siding, the Lord marvelously laid  it 
        on a man's heart to give the finance needed.  As it came time for 
        the roof to be put on, God miraculously provided for us.  Step by 
        step
        
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        Jesus was bringing His revelation to pass before our eyes, and we 
        sought  to  thank  Him  much  for  every  loving  gift  and  kind 
        assistance.
        
             In  1952  I  had had the privilege to lead a  young  boy  to 
        Christ  and see his sister get back to God (oh, that  they  would 
        remain  faithful  to the blessed Saviour).  Their father  was  so 
        thankful for how God had used us to encourage his family that  he 
        called  us one day.  "I want you to bring your wife and  daughter 
        and come to see me in the next couple of weeks," he said.  So  we 
        made our way there.  Just as we turned off the road to enter  the 
        long  lane  leading  to their lovely home God spoke  to  me  from 
        Heaven.   "Oh,  Honey!"  I said.   "God  is  revealing  something 
        wonderful to me as we arrive at this precious home."

             Once  inside  their  home we began to share  things  of  the 
        Kingdom  and pray.  Finally Brother Campbell asked,  "Rev.  Helm, 
        what is the need of the home?  What do you need now?"
        
             I  was  thankful  to the Lord for  his  asking  me.   "Well, 
        Brother,"  I  told him, "we need rock lath for  nine  rooms,  two 
        halls, and two baths."  That was quite a huge item.
        
             "I'll  tell  you what I'll do," he said.  "I'll send  it  to 
        you."
        
             "Do  you mean that you'll provide all the rock lath that  we 
        need?"
        
             "I'll  send a truck load," he declared, "enough lath  to  do 
        the whole thing."  I tell you I thanked the Lord.  I praised God!  
        "What else do you need?" he asked me.
        
             I was still thanking God for the rock lath and he was asking 
        me  what  else we needed.  "Brother, we need a water  heater,"  I 
        managed to tell him.
        
             "I'll  give you a check for that," he said, and wrote  me  a 
        check  for three hundred dollars.  One hundred went  to  purchase 
        our  water  heater and the other two hundred was applied  to  our 
        bill  at the lumber yard.  My, how we did praise God for the  way 
        He was working!
        
             After  the  rock  lath had been put on, we  needed  to  pray 
        concerning the plaster for these same nine rooms, two halls,
        
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        and  two  baths; a project that I had heard would cost  at  least 
        fifteen  to  eighteen  hundred dollars.  At that time  I  had  no 
        money,  had just closed a revival in a small country church,  and 
        had  been fasting three days when I received three letters:   the 
        first  contained ten dollars; the second was a letter  from  this 
        little  church stating that they felt led to send us  more  money 
        from their Sunday School treasury; and the third letter was  from 
        Mrs.  Campbell  saying,  "My husband will be at  your  home  this 
        afternoon  with the plaster contractor from  Richmond,  Indiana."  
        We rejoiced that morning because God was helping us.  We felt  so 
        unworthy of everything.
        
             When Mr. Campbell and the contractor arrived that  afternoon 
        I  showed them the walls to be finished and asked, "Sir, how much 
        will  it cost for the plaster, the insulating material,  and  the 
        labor for this home?"
        
             Just  as I asked the plasterer this question,  Mr.  Campbell 
        spoke  up:  "Rev. Helm--don't worry about the cost.   We'll  look 
        after that."

             I fell on my knees in that dining room and cried, "Lord, you 
        have been making the way day after day and time after time.  When 
        we haven't known what to do, you have taken care."  I  sanctified 
        all the plaster, materials, and labor the best I knew how, trying 
        to thank Him and thank Him and thank Him in Heaven for  providing 
        the needs of this unworthy servant.
        
             You see, dear one, this to me is a miracle story because  we 
        weren't  instigating; we weren't arranging; we weren't  scheming; 
        we  weren't  pulling for this or asking for that.  We  were  only 
        trusting  and  waiting.   It  is a simple  thing  to  talk  about 
        trusting  God  for  all things, but something  far  different  to 
        experience it, believe me.
        
             In  a  few weeks the plaster contractor had sent a  crew  of 
        five  men  to our home.  I would be talking first with  this  man 
        about  Jesus,  and  then I would tell another  about  answers  to 
        prayer.   As  they worked I would try in my limited way  to  tell 
        them the good news of Christ.  Some time after they had
        
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        completed their work in our home, the foreman of this  plastering 
        crew,  an excellent craftsman, was eating lunch in  a  restaurant 
        when  something happened in his body and he died in a few  hours.  
        Mr. Campbell said it seemed as if he was living just long  enough 
        to reach the home built by faith that he might receive a lift,  a 
        little  help of some kind.  It was very important that  I  shared 
        with  these  five men the things of God while they  were  in  our 
        home.
        
             With  a  dwelling  the  size of this one,  I  wanted  a  gas 
        furnace.   But  many in our village were of the opinion  that  we 
        would never be able to obtain a gas permit, because several  from 
        the  town had already tried and had been refused.  "What are  you 
        going  to do?" they asked.  All I could tell them was that I  was 
        trusting.
        
             I made application for the gas permit in the main office  in 
        Muncie with Mr. H., the chief engineer, and was told that I would 
        have an answer in three weeks.  When the three weeks had  passed, 
        I  knew  that  my request had not been granted.  I  felt  that  I 
        should go back and inquire again, but just as my hand touched the 
        door  of  the gas company the Lord of Heaven said,  "Don't  enter 
        this place at this time."
        
             "Oh,  Jesus," I cried.  "I want to go in and find out  about 
        the permit."
        
             "Not  now," he counseled me.  So I went on down the  street, 
        although in my flesh I wanted so badly to go in and find out  the 
        situation.

             Days  went by, then Jesus led me to go back.  As I  entered, 
        people were ahead of me speaking to Mr. H.; therefore I stood and 
        waited, the last in line.  When it was my turn I said, "Sir, I am 
        Rev.  Helm.   I  am interested in obtaining a  gas  permit,"  and 
        explained to him the particulars.
        
             Mr.  H.  informed me, "It will be six months  to  two  years 
        before  we will have any permits available."  I thanked  him  and 
        started to leave.
        
             During the last few moments of this conversation a handsome, 
        black-haired man had come out of his private office
        
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        and seated himself at a big double desk just opposite the desk of 
        the  chief engineer.  As I started to leave, he spoke:   "Just  a 
        minute."
        
             "Yes, Sir," I answered.  He then asked me two questions  and 
        I  told him about the home built by faith.  I learned later  that 
        he already knew of our home from one of his men who had been in a 
        restaurant  where  the owner had a gallon jar full  of  water  in 
        which customers could deposit loose change to help purchase a gas 
        furnace for a home to be built by faith.  I learned that the  man 
        to whom I was talking was the head man of that particular office.  
        God  had brought him out of his private room and set him down  at 
        this  desk just at this precise moment so we might meet.  In  all 
        the times I was back in that building, I never once saw this  man 
        again.  "You plan on the gas furnace," he said.
        
             "Do you mean that we can have a gas furnace?" I asked.
        
             He said, "You plan on it."
        
             Glory to God!  The Lord answered prayer and took care of  it 
        when  it  seemed impossible!  "Thank you, Brother!"  I told  that 
        man, and went my way rejoicing.  We still have that gas permit on 
        file in our home.
        
             The  day Florence and I went to the tile and marble  company 
        to make our first selection for the tile to be used in the shower 
        base  and  the hearth of the fireplace, I wanted to  have  prayer 
        with  the man and his wife who owned the business.  They were  in 
        his  car as we were leaving, and when I began praying he  started 
        the  motor.   I thought he was going to pull the car away  as  we 
        prayed.   The  second time I returned I felt led  again  to  have 
        prayer with the owners.  On this occasion the husband simply left 
        us and walked away into the kitchen.  He was a very backward  and 
        timid man.

             Our choice of tile had to be changed twice; so when my  wife 
        and  I  returned the third time to the tile company,  this  man's 
        wife  began  talking with us.  Soon we were sharing of  our  walk 
        with God.  In all her years she had never known
        
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        Jesus; but that rainy afternoon she took a little trip to Calvary 
        and met the wonderful Saviour of all men.  The salvation of  this 
        precious  soul is connected with the tile in the shower base  and 
        the hearth.
        
             The  day  that her husband came to lay the tile he  told  me 
        that  the job would cost ninety dollars.  Though I had not  asked 
        him for any deduction, he said, "I wouldn't do it for anyone else 
        for that price, but I will for you."  When he stepped inside  our 
        home  and  began to look around he was so astonished.  "I  wasn't 
        expecting to see a home like this!" he remarked.
        
             I  told him, "It's not us.  The Lord Jesus has made the  way 
        for  us.   Everything  you see is because of Jesus  and  for  His 
        honor.  He's provided and made the way.  I don't know what to do, 
        but He does."
        
             When  he  finished the work that day, I took  him  upstairs, 
        showing him various rooms.  He was appreciative.  "This surely is 
        a wonderful place," he told me.  And I again tried to praise  the 
        Lord for providing.
        
             Then  I  said  to him, "Now, Brother,  here  is  the  ninety 
        dollars that I owe you."
        
             "You don't owe me anything," he declared.
        
             "You told me it would cost ninety dollars!"  I exclaimed.
        
             "That's entirely alright," he replied.  The Lord had touched 
        his heart.
        
             In  January,  1953, when the house was  ready  for  finished 
        floors,  I went to the phone to order the flooring, but the  Holy 
        Ghost  would not let me call.  I could have ordered the  hardwood 
        from  many  cities, having it delivered within days.   But  every 
        time I would go to the phone to call, the Holy Spirit would check 
        me.
        
             My  girls  were anxious for the floors to be  finished,  for 
        they  had not had a room of their own for many years.   In  fact, 
        the five of our family slept in one room for some time.  Four  of 
        us,  then, slept in this same room for almost seven  years.   Our 
        daughters would keep asking me, "Daddy, have
        
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        you  gotten  the flooring yet?"  When I would tell  them  that  I 
        hadn't, they would ask, "But why?"  And I would try to tell  them 
        that  I was simply walking with the Lord and could not  go  ahead 
        until Jesus permitted me.
        
             We  kept  wanting  to order the  flooring  through  January, 
        February, and March.  Each time I went to the telephone, however, 
        the  Lord checked me.  My girls repeated many times,  "Daddy,  we 
        want  to move into our rooms.  They're all ready except  for  the 
        floors.  Can't you order the flooring?"
        
             And I would explain to them, "I would like to girls, but you 
        see--I walk with God and He reveals to me that I can't order  the 
        flooring yet."
        
             On  the  last  Monday of April, my wife and I  were  in  the 
        northern part of the state with a man who showed me two pieces of 
        red oak select flooring, which came from Bowling Green, Kentucky.  
        He said, "Rev. Helm, if you like, I can get this for you and  you 
        may  pay  for it as you are able with no interest.  Take  ten  or 
        fifteen years to pay for it if need be."
        
             When  he told me that, the Holy Ghost operated in my  heart.  
        Turning to my wife I said, "Honey, there is more involved in this 
        than just the floors of our house."
        
             Some  days  later, on May sixth, I was informed  that  these 
        three hundred thirteen bundles of red oak select were waiting  to 
        be  unloaded from a large truck.  I went to the lot in  order  to 
        help  my brothers and another man unload these  bundles  weighing 
        fifteen to thirty pounds each.  None of them knew that I had been 
        fasting  for three days concerning the Holy Ghost Revival to  the 
        World.   It  was not long before my strength left me.  I  had  to 
        excuse  myself and rest.  I came back to carry for  awhile,  then 
        had  to rest some more.  I weighed only about 145 to 148  pounds.  
        "Lord,  give  me  strength for these remaining  few  bundles,"  I 
        prayed.  And every time I reached for a bundle, the power of  God 
        would assist me.
        
             By  the time I had lifted the last bundle, I was  under  the 
        anointing of the Spirit.  I found myself looking into the face
        
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        of  the man who had brought this flooring from the South,  and  I 
        was telling him about a Friend of mine.  The power of God fell on 
        that  truck and he didn't take his eyes off of mine.  He told  me 
        that  he had heard of Christ but that God had never  called  him.  
        Before  long I was down on the street preaching up to him  as  he 
        stood in the truck.

             I  then  took  him over to see the lovely new  car  God  had 
        provided  me through ten or fifteen families.  I was telling  him 
        how  I  had  had it only three days when a big  stone  truck  had 
        backed  out  from the curb the wrong way and  simply  ripped  the 
        front  fender  back.  I told him what peace had been in my  heart 
        when I heard the noise of the accident, and how I had come out of 
        the  restaurant where I was eating and praised the Lord in  spite 
        of  my  new car being damaged.  While I was telling him  of  this 
        experience, I asked, "My Brother, do you have the call of God  in 
        your heart?  Is your heart throbbing?"
        
             He answered, "It is."
        
             "Would you give your heart to Jesus today?"
        
             His eyes left me for the first time since the anointing came 
        upon  me and his head went down.  "I am ready," he declared.   We 
        started  in prayer together and soon found the Cross,  where  his 
        sins fell off and he became a new creature in Christ Jesus.   The 
        man who had brought the hardwood flooring for the prayer room and 
        the  upstairs of the home built by faith had found the Master  on 
        May 6, 1953.
        
             I  recall being outside one day when Rev. Luke  M.'s  future 
        son-in-law  drove  up.   We had just closed  a  revival  at  this 
        pastor's  church a few days before, and we had been praying  that 
        God  would  truly  come upon this young  man  with  old-fashioned 
        conviction.  Coming up the walk that day he remarked, "Rev. Helm, 
        I  can't  get  along with anyone.  I can't even  get  along  with 
        myself."
        
             We  came  right  inside  to  the  unfinished  living   room, 
        spreading some newspapers on the floor.  He knelt down facing the 
        south, I knelt down facing the west, and we began to bombard
        
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        Heaven.  The blood of Jesus was applied to his heart and God took 
        all the blackness, the darkness, the sin, and the iniquity out of 
        him.  He wrote his name down in the Lamb's Book of Life and made
        a new man out of  him.  He was laughing, he was crying, he was
        shining.  Praise the Lord.
        
             Because  of  God's leading me way back in 1937 to  take  the 
        least  pastorate offered us, I was led to Homer  Pumphrey.   This 
        leading then took me to several churches in Texas many times.  It 
        was  in  one  of these congregations that Brother  Homer  S.  was 
        wonderfully  converted and his wife miraculously healed as  well.  
        I only wish it were possible to give you some small idea of  what 
        all  God  has accomplished for His glory because of  that  single 
        leading in 1937:  the souls saved on the trains going to and from 
        Texas;  the  bodies healed; the victories won  for  Jesus.   Only 
        eternity will reveal it, for the Holy Spirit has led it all.
        
             Homer  S.  was  Brother Pumphrey's lay  leader,  a  concrete 
        engineer  who  owned and operated a  successful  business.   When 
        Jesus  healed  his wife, the Lord laid it on his  heart  that  he 
        should temporarily leave his business, his men, and all his  work 
        to travel a distance of over one thousand miles back with me from 
        Texas  to pour the concrete for the porch and walks of  the  home 
        built by faith.  Needless to say, he really surprised me when  he 
        suggested  that  he  wanted  to do this for  us.   I  was  deeply 
        thankful for God laying this on his heart, and for his  obedience 
        to come.
        
             While  Homer was finishing the work, he took such a pain  in 
        his heart.  God privileged me to pray for him and he was  healed.  
        A  few  hours later my daughter, Nancy, came  running  in.   "Oh, 
        Daddy!" she cried.  "The rain is coming and is going to ruin  the 
        porch  and the walk!  Come out and ask God to stop the rain  till 
        it is all dry."
        
             I  ran outside where the men were still doing the  finishing 
        touches,  lifted my hands, and prayed,  "Heavenly Father, I  know 
        that  Thou art faithful.  I just pray You'll not let it  rain  on 
        this walk and ruin it.  Stop the rain, Father, and
        
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        we'll give Thee the praise and the glory."  And God just  stopped 
        the shower.  It didn't rain any more until the concrete had set.
        
             Later that evening, when all six of us brothers came over to 
        my parent's home to sing for Homer, he was hurting so severely in 
        his hip that he could hardly stand on it.  We had another  prayer 
        meeting and God took out all the pain.  Our song fest that  night 
        was  just  for him, with Florence playing the piano and  the  six 
        brothers  singing.   Homer has never forgotten it.   He  told  us 
        later,  "I've  hunted  bear in the mountains  of  Colorado;  I've 
        caught fish in the streams of Mexico; but the most wonderful trip 
        I  have ever made was to Parker, Indiana, to pour the  porch  and 
        the  walks of the home built by faith."  Jesus alone  could  have 
        done this.
        
             December,  1953,  the home which Jesus had shown  me  in  my 
        heart  as a light in 1934, was dedicated.  About 175 people  were 
        seated  in the living room, the dining room, in the  kitchen,  in 
        the  prayer  room, up the stairway; they sat on the beds  in  the 
        bedrooms,  stood  in the halls and in the bathrooms  to  help  us 
        commemorate  this  precious  moment  when  God's  promise  to  an 
        unworthy  eighteen-year-old was fulfilled through the good  grace 
        of Jesus and the faithfulness of His people.
        
             I  was  especially grateful to Jesus for letting  my  wife's 
        father  live  to see this home dedicated; for if you  recall,  he 
        asked  me but one question when I took his only daughter with  me 
        to live wholly by faith:  "Do you think you will be able to  make 
        a living for you family?"  He believed me when I told him how God 
        had called me to trust Jesus.  But for him to be able to see  God 
        provide  his daughter and son-in-law one of the nicest  homes  in 
        that village spoke more to him of God's faithfulness and the true 
        calling  of God upon our lives than words could ever say.   Thank 
        you Jesus.
        
             You  see, when I fell in love with my wife, I fell  in  love 
        with  her parents as well.  I loved them and made over them  just 
        like I did over my own father and mother.  In the late forties
        
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        the Lord told me, "Love them much, for their time is short."   On 
        June  10,  1947, in a dream I saw my wife's father dying  in  his 
        rocking  chair.   And in 1949 Dad Spence said to  Mother  Spence, 
        "Grace, I'm slipping.  I won't be here very long."
        
             I  went to my bedroom and began to cry out to God to  extend 
        his  days.   I  prayed, "Lord, when Jacob  was  with  Laban,  you 
        blessed  his  household.  Let Dad Spence live  a  little  longer.  
        Make  him well.  Extend his years!"  The Lord helped me pray  him 
        through  his sixty-fifth birthday to the time of the  dedication.  
        Not  long after, he went Home, and I was privileged to  pray  him 
        through the gates of the City.
        
             Some  fifty to one hundred men worked on this home from  the 
        cutting  of the trees in the woods to its completion.   By  God's 
        grace, I never asked one person to help me, unless he first  came 
        to me and asked if he might assist me in some way.  And, to God's 
        glory  (to  the  best of my knowledge), among the  fifty  to  one 
        hundred men who worked on that home, not one thumb or finger  was 
        smashed.   Ordinarily inexperienced workers will hit a  thumb  or 
        hurt themselves in some way.  But, because of Jesus, the precious 
        Holy Ghost, not one man was hurt while working on the home  which 
        God had built.
        
             A  few dear ones were fearful that we would not be  able  to 
        keep  such a large home going, for a home involves much care  and 
        upkeep.   But  one of my brothers told them, "If God is  able  to 
        provide  them a home, He is able to keep it as well."   How  true 
        this  was we have found out over the years, and for every  single 
        blessing and help from God we give Him honor.
        
             We  moved into this lovely home on December 20, 1953.   From 
        that  day until this, God has mercifully seen fit to save  a  few 
        souls, encourage hearts, and heal bodies within these walls.  One 
        day Rev. G. brought some friends to see the home.  While we  were 
        passing through the dining room God said, "Pray in here."  When I 
        knelt  to pray, God revealed that the man from Peoria,  Illinois, 
        to whom I had just been
        
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        introduced,  could  get back to Him today.  I began to  pray  for 
        this  fellow  whom  I  had never seen before,  and  soon  he  was 
        weeping.   He  got back to God that very hour!  The  joy  of  the 
        blessed  Saviour  came into his soul.  He was happy and  we  were 
        rejoicing with him.
        
             Mrs.  W.  E. Baker was a precious Christian  woman  who  had 
        helped  us on several occasions, and we had wanted her  to  visit 
        our  home ever since it had been dedicated in December.  But  she 
        had not been able to come until the following May.  As she sat in 
        the living room, I was sharing answers to prayer and a few of the 
        marvelous things which had taken place during the building of the 
        home.  A knock on the door interrupted our conversation, and  the 
        man  who picked up clothing for the laundry came in.  "May I  see 
        you  a minute?" he asked.  I told him that he surely  could,  and 
        took him into the prayer room.
        
             He began to pour his heart out to me.  "I prayed last  night 
        as a sinner that I could get through this terrible fix that I  am 
        in,"  he confessed to me.  "I asked God to lead me to one of  His 
        disciples who could help me.  When I saw this woman in your front 
        room,  I  knew  that  I was in the  right  place."   Wasn't  that 
        wonderful?  Here we had wanted Mrs. Baker to be with us for weeks 
        and months, but God sent her by on just the right day.
        
             I began to tell him how to find the Narrow Way.  I got  down 
        on my knees  and  prayed and then asked him  to  pray.   When  he 
        finished  he said, "Rev. Helm, from the time I started  to  leave 
        this chair until my knees hit the floor, I felt like shouting.  I 
        tell you, I really got it!  Can I tell your family what Jesus has 
        done  for  me?"  The Lord had already heard him tell me  all  his 
        burdens;  so He just took his darkness, his cares, and  his  sins 
        from him before he could even kneel to pray.
        
             Going to the north porch he told my wife and her mother, "Do 
        you  see that water tower up there about four squares?   I  would 
        like to be on top of it today telling everyone what God
        
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        has done for me."  As he went out the front door he looked up  at 
        the sky and declared with great joy, "What a wonderful day!"   It 
        was cloudy and looked as if it might rain any time, but there was 
        sunlight  in his soul.  Three years later he called to say  that, 
        through Christ, he had won seven souls to the Lord.
        
             I  was going for prayer one day when I was called back  home 
        sixty  miles.  When I entered the house I found this young  woman 
        who told me, "My fiance has cancer of the stomach and the doctors 
        give  him no hope.  What can be done for him?  Is there  anything 
        you can do?"
        
             I prayed for a time to learn the counsel of the Holy Spirit, 
        then  answered,  "If you will both repent of all your  sins,  all 
        your neglects, all your wrongs--I believe Jesus will shrivel that 
        cancer in his body."
        
             Suddenly she cried, "Am I having a nervous breakdown?"
        
             "No,"  I  told her, "the Holy Spirit is calling  you."   Her 
        heart was throbbing with such force that she didn't know what was 
        happening  to  her.   I  explained, "This is  the  power  of  God 
        speaking  to  you,  saying, `Give  Me  thine  heart.'" She was
        converted, he was reclaimed, and the cancer dried up in his stomach.
        That was eighteen years ago.
        
             A  call came to our home one day and a man's voice said,  "I 
        am  in  some trouble."  I told him that I could hear  it  in  his 
        voice.  "Do you have time for me?" he asked.
        
             "Certainly," I replied.
        
             "Are you sure?" the voice asked again.
        
             "Yes,"  I assured him.  I learned that he had a  friend  and 
        that  they both were in trouble; but when his friend had gone  to 
        see  this one servant, he continued to look at his watch much  of 
        the time, making this person feel as if he wanted to be elsewhere 
        instead  of  talking  with her.  "When do you wish  to  come?"  I 
        asked.
        
             "When is it best for you?" he said.
        
             "Let's  turn it around," I suggested.  "When is it best  for 
        you?"  He didn't want to be an imposition, but I wanted to
        
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        make  it as easy for him as possible.  When he arrived,  I  heard 
        that  he was in a hard, terrible place.  I spent two  hours  with 
        him,  and when those two hours were over, beloved, he went out  a 
        new man in Christ Jesus.
        
             I  was  just  ready to leave the front door  when  the  Holy 
        Spirit revealed, "You cannot leave."  In four minutes a car drove 
        up  and out stepped a man with a shining face whom I hadn't  seen 
        for  three or four years.  "My Brother, I'm so glad to see  you," 
        he rejoiced, meeting me at the door.  "I have been trying to  get 
        here  for  two or three weeks and I knew I was  to  come  today."  
        When  I shared with him that God had stopped me or I  would  have 
        been gone, he praised the Lord.
        
             He  began  to tell me of his trials and struggles,  which  I 
        found  to be very serious.  For three years he had  been  passing 
        through  a desperate battle of the soul.  During this  period  he 
        had been going from place to place seeking help, but no one  knew 
        what  to tell him.  I was able to say to him, "Rejoice,  Brother!  
        You"re  going into the deeper things of God."  I would  not  have 
        known  how  to counsel him had not God led me through  this  same 
        deep  river, a similar dark area of testing, some  years  before.  
        "As  you go into the deeper things of walking with God  you  will 
        experience  great struggles at times," I was able to  share  with 
        him.   "Sometimes the enemy fights very severely."  We  began  to 
        pray,  the glory started to fall, and he was delivered.   God  be 
        praised for all His marvelous operations and holy workings.
        
             If  I had the privilege of taking you from room to  room  in 
        this home which God has so graciously provided us, I would try to 
        point  out  where  one woman was reclaimed in  the  prayer  room.  
        Another  woman with gall bladder trouble met the Saviour and  was 
        healed not far from where this other woman found the victory.  In 
        my  room,  our  youngest daughter came  to  a  real  transforming 
        knowledge of Jesus at the age of twenty-four.  Not far from where 
        she  met Jesus, just several months ago, another young woman  was 
        sanctified.  Also in
        
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        this  same room, my nephew of twenty-six years, who had  been  in 
        very deep sin, was marvelously saved a few weeks ago on  February 
        12.  He is now so happy in Jesus.  It was in the foyer where  God 
        spoke  to me one night, along with several of the  prayer  group, 
        about a missionary in Bolivia who was in danger.  We later  found 
        out  that  he and his family were being stoned at  that  time  in 
        their home.  God delivered them through prayer.
        
             We could go on, if Jesus would permit and help me, to recall 
        the  many things which He has accomplished for His glory in  this 
        home:   but  there is no end to anything which God  begins.   Our 
        words  are  too  feeble to convey the deep  thankfulness  in  our 
        hearts to Jesus for the way He has provided this home and for the 
        way He continues to bless many who visit it.
        
             We  know  that  we have been unable to mention,  nor  do  we 
        actually  know  about,  all who helped  make  this  revelation  a 
        reality.   There is no way that we could adequately  express  our 
        debt  of gratitude for each and every person who  contributed  to 
        the  building of this home with their finance, their gifts, their 
        talents,  their time, and their prayers.  It could not have  been 
        accomplished without the obedience of God's people.
        
             I know that the investment of those dear ones who had even a 
        tiny  part in building this home will receive  precious  rewards, 
        for  this  is not an ordinary home.  It is the fulfillment  of  a 
        divine  revelation.  It is an expression of the will of God.   It 
        is  a monument to this village and to this age that God  provides 
        for His servants today as He did for His prophets of old.
        
             We  rejoice to share with you that subsequent to  the  first 
        two  editions of this humble pilgrimage, our first precious  son-
        in-law,  Jack, gave his heart to Jesus in the livingroom  of  our 
        home early in the morning of October 1, 1975 at approximately two 
        o'clock.
        
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