She Did What She Could is my newest book. This book took an extremely long time to be published, and there were times that I wondered if it would  ever be delivered. But by the grace of God, I now have several hundred copies available to be purchased. They can be ordered from the home page, or you can also visit www.shedidwhatshecould.net which will place you on the home page. The book, She Did What She Could was  produced as a powerful evangelizing tool for marginal or non Christians and to encourage and edify Christians. The idea was to provide a glimpse of some genuine Christians, similar to examples  which can be found in the Book of Hebrews, chapter eleven. Many have read of the saints in this chapter and I fear that some may think their faith and accomplishments may be too extreme for Christians in our generation. Others feel of little use in serving Christ or advancing the Gospel because of their circumstances or physical abilities.

Throughout my years as a Christian, several issues caused me to see a need for a book such as this. For a time, I visited some local nursing homes with my therapy dog, named Zip. There were times when I would meet and visit an elderly saint who lived as though their age and physical condition would prevent them from doing much for the good of others and for the glory of God. I would remind them to pray for their families from their beds or their wheelchair. I would encourage them to talk to their nurses or the staff and ask that the Bible might be read to them or to ask the staff for any prayer concerns , and then to lift up their hearts to God on behalf of them. In addition, in my ministry as a traveling evangelist, I would provide some Gospel booklets for those that were really interested Many of these booklets were written several hundred years ago and can now only be found in rare books or the multi-volume set of tracts from the American Tract Society. Chapel Library was my best and favorite source for  booklets such as these, and they were exceeding generous. Some of these tracts were accompanied by small movements of God each time they were published. I am not aware of any publication other than the American Tract Society seven volume set where many of these booklets are in one place.

She Did What She Could is rooted in the New Testament account of a woman who used up all of her costly perfume by pouring it on the head of Jesus. Although some of the disciples objected, Jesus said, ” She has done what she could”.  The book also has the accounts of some  Christians familiar to many, such as Ann Judson, Sarah Edwards, Joni  Eareckson Tada, and Martin Luther. There are others most American Christians or most of the world at large has never heard of, yet they were poured out, sometimes suffering and dying for Christ’s sake. Others were a beautiful and precious witness for Jesus Christ, even from their death bed. My hope is that many would read these accounts and all would agree that these saints served well and died well.

The book was not written to be a best-seller. It was written that it might stir up the heat’s of those who read it. Who knows what  the Lord might do? Maybe if it is of any encouragement to you, you would share it was another Christian. Maybe you would share it with a friend or relative who is not a Christian, hoping that like so many who read of the Dairyman’s Daughter  or the Young Cottager they might be convicted of their sins and call upon the Lord.

If you have read the book She Did What She Could and have a critique, criticism, or suggestion please feel free to contact me.

Below are the comments of some who have read the book. May God be glorified!

Grace be with all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with love incorruptible. Cathy wrote that she was convicted and so moved when she read the book, she prayed that the Lord would provide her with a way to share her faith and maybe plant a Gospel seed or be an encouragement to others. She often takes long walks in a neighborhood park near her home. She has started to write some scripture verses on the stones from her garden, and then leave some in the park, with the hope that some other walker will find the stone and read the message, and be blessed.

Tom and his wife read the book together at their kitchen table, were encouraged and let me know.

Dear brother!  My wife and I were greatly encouraged by reading the chapter on the two Margaret’s at dinner.  I began crying twice while reading the account.  Thank you for such an encouraging book!!

On the next day he sent a second message.

Thank you for joining us for lunch today as we read Surprising Conversions 1.

The 4th Dave did a review of the book “She Did What She Could” at the request of one of his friends. He was most kind, and his review would indicate he spent a little time with it.

For the follower of Jesus, it can be a great encouragement to hear and read stories of past saints who have finished the race well. We see that in the Scriptures, as God gives us what has been called by many the famous “Hall of Faith” chapter in Hebrews 11, detailing how the saints of the Old Testament stood firm on their faith in God and His Word.

In my experience, reading the stories of past believers who have followed Jesus even to the point of death can be a convicting and riveting practice. Whether it’s Foxe’s Book of Martyrs or biographies of past theologians and missionaries, these stories have fueled the fire of devotion and perseverance for generations of Christians seeking to walk the same faithful path, myself included.

I recently finished reading a fine example of this type of spiritual biography that I was pleased to add to my bookshelf: Don Karns’ She Did What She Could. This is a collection of historical accounts, Scripture passages, and biographical tracts from past eras that tell the stories of little-known women of the faith. The title references Mark 14, in which a woman (whom John identifies as Mary, sister of Lazarus) anoints Jesus’ feet with a sweet-smelling ointment. When the disciples complained, Jesus defended her and said she has done all she could to honor him.

Through this collection of historical accounts that Karns has gathered across the centuries of church history, the pleasing aroma of these saints’ devotion is still powerful and praiseworthy.

I was delighted to receive Don Karns’ slim volume in the mail from my friend Michael Coughlin, with a request to share my thoughts. I’m more than happy to satisfy that request now.

The Evangelist with a Pastor’s Heart

The first things about this book that struck me were the notes from Karns himself. In his “Preface,” “Words of Encouragement,” and “Conclusion,” Karns labors to proclaim the Gospel clearly and urgently, in the hope that unsaved readers will understand why these stories are being told and what would drive people throughout the centuries to give up their lives and suffer hardship and martyrdom. The tone of Karns’ writing is winsome and pleading, seeking to make his appeal instead of shout down any expected critics.

I did a little internet research on the author and learned that he is a long-time evangelist and open-air preacher who seems to be respected by many who are familiar with his ministry. When critical or nasty comments are posted on his ministry website’s homepage, the responses from the site account are nothing but pleasant, earnest, and humble as they refute the accusations of the pagans and respond with Scripture.

Just as the testimonies of the inconspicuous women being highlighted in this work draw out the sweet aroma of Christ, I was touched by that same sweetness in the language Karns uses. Without knowing anything about him specifically, I can tell what kind of man he might be, making me all the more willing to read his compilation of testimonies.

In Memory of Her

The bulk of the volume consists of various historical accounts of women of faith. A few notable names are included in the group (such as Ann Judson and Joni Erickson-Tada), but most of them are all but unknown to most readers. This accounts of “the young cottager” or “the dairyman’s daughter” provide portraits of humble folk (often the very young or those facing the shadow of death) who are transformed by the Gospel. In many ways, these accounts remind me of The Pilgrim’s Progress, not because they are in any way fictional but because the lofty speech and conversation are full of allusions to Scripture.

In some of these accounts, I have to confess that I struggled to follow the dialogue sometimes. That might be blamed on my “reading muscles” becoming a bit too flabby as of late. At times, I did wonder if these conversations were a bit too lofty to be realistic, but that also may be due to the low expectations of a modern mind! Even if some of the wording of these accounts might have been “polished up” a bit to make clearer points, I have no reason to doubt they are truthful in the main.

My favorite section by far was the one titled “Women of the Covenant,” recounting the martyrdom of several women who were part of the Scottish “covenanters.” While the stories are just as challenging and encouraging as the other sections, the writing of this particular passage was poetic and vivid, and I found myself stopping to re-read several sentences that were perfectly crafted.

Karns closes the book by throwing the reader a curve ball. After regaling us with story after story of women of faith, he closes with a sermon excerpt from the Prince of Preachers, Charles Spurgeon, and a brief account of Luther’s prayer on the night before his “Here I Stand” speech at the Diet of Worms. However out-of-theme these inclusions were, they were fully in-step with the spirit of the book as a whole, calling unbelievers to trust in Jesus for salvation and challenging believers to live lives of faith and sacrifice for His glory.

A Treasure in a Rough-Hewn Case

As lovely as the contents of this volume are, I would be remiss not to address the problems I have with its presentation and production. It’s clear as soon as you pick the book up that it was self-published. On the whole, there’s nothing wrong with self-publishing a book. I’ve read more than a few self-published works in my time (I may even write a few someday), and they can be edited and produced to meet or even surpass the industry standard. However, I should note certain issues with this one, if for no other reason than the off-chance the author or his ministry partners are considering an additional print run and would be willing to make corrections.

The formatting of the work is inconsistent throughout, changing font types and sizes. Sometimes, the formatting is oppressively dense, including several sections of block text without visual breaks that go on for pages at a time. While I recognize that the source material was likely written and typeset in the same manner, I would ask the author (or others producing similar works) to take the liberty of reformatting these entries for better readability and acknowledging the changes with an editor’s note of some kind. There are also a handful of typos that should have been caught during the proofreading process; those sorts of things happen in even the big publishing houses, but that means it’s all the more important for the small team working on a book like this to be extra careful, as fewer eyes will see it before its release.

These may be considered nit-pick criticisms, but if one’s goal is to bring these stories to a new audience, or even (as the author seems to indicate) to share them with non-believers, part of the ministry work is taking the time to put out an excellent product free of the editorial distractions that could undercut or cheapen the overall presentation.

To Don Karns and anyone else who may be working on a self-published book like this, I urge you not to skip out on this vital step in the process. (By the way, if you are looking to hire a manuscript editor / proofreader for a bit of contract work, I’m available!)

Final Comments

She Did What She Could is a worthwhile read that presents a collection of mostly-unknown Gospel conversion and martyrdom stories from church history. From a publishing standpoint, the book needs some polish and updates, but that doesn’t detract from the message. If you love Jesus, this volume will help you to treasure and trust him all the more, as you walk through these short histories of women of whom the world was not worthy.

You can pick up a copy of the book at the author’s ministry website, at a pretty affordable price. For the spiritual value you will receive, I think it would be money well-spent.

A MAN, who was entirely a stranger to me, and whose appearance convinced me he was poor, and whose address showed, that he was not very familiar with the subject of religion, called upon me one morning; and with some agitation desired me to go to a distant street, to see his wife, who was sick. On making some inquiries; I learned, that his wife had the consumption, was not expected to live many days, had not expressed any desire to see me; but that he had come for me, at the request of an aged Welsh woman, who lived in the same house. I immediately went to the place he described. I found the woman apparently in the last stages of the consumption. She was an interesting young woman, of about twenty years of age, and had been married a little more than a year. All the appearance of her room was indicative of poverty, though everything manifested the most perfect neatness. She was bolstered up, upon her bed, her face pale, with a bright red spot in the centre of each cheek. She appeared exceedingly weak; while her frequent cough seemed to be tearing her to pieces. Her condition affected me. Manifestly, her youth and beauty were destined to an early grave. She must soon leave the world; and how tender and terrible the thought, that she might still be unprepared for a happier one!
As I told her who I was, and why I had come there; she offered me her hand, with a ready and easy politeness; and yet, with a manifest embarrassment of feeling, which she evidently struggled to conceal.
I have seldom seen a more perfectly beautiful woman. Her frame was delicate, her complexion clear and white, her countenance indicative of a more than ordinary degree of intelligence and amiability; and as she lifted her languid eyes upon me, I could not but feel in an instant, that I was in the presence of an uncommon woman.
I felt her feverish pulse, which was rapidly beating, and expressing my sorrow at finding her so ill, she said to me, (speaking with some difficulty:)”—
You find me—in very humble circumstances—sir.”
“Yes,” said I, “you seem very sick.”
“We have not—always been—so straitened as we are now,” said she.—“We lived—very comfortably—before—I was sick. But, I am not able to do anything, now. And I am ashamed—to have you find me—with my room, and all things—in such a state;” (casting a look about the room.) “Once—I could have seen you in a more inviting place.—But, sir—we are now very poor—and cannot live—as we used to.—My situation—is—very humble indeed.”
“You have no occasion to be ashamed,” said I. “Your room is very neat; and if you are in want of anything, it will give me pleasure to aid you to whatever you need.”
“Oh, sir, I am not—in want—of anything now. I am too sick to need anything—more than the old lady—can do for me; and she is very kind.”
“And who is the old lady?” I asked.
“Mrs. Williams,” said she; “in whose house—we have lived since ours—was sold;—the woman that—wanted me to have you—come and see me. She has been—talking—to me about religion;—(she is a Welsh-woman;—) and she .has read—to me—in the Bible, but—I cannot—understand it.”
“And did you wish to .have me come and see you?”
“No—yes—I am willing—to see you; but—I am—in such—a place here—my room—”
“My dear friend,” said I, “do not think of such things at all. You have something of more moment to think of. You are very sick. Do you expect ever to get well?”
“No, sir; they—tell me—I shall not.”
“And do you feel prepared to die?”
“I do not know—what that—preparation means. And, it is too late, now, for me to do anything—about it.—I am too far-gone.”
“No, Madam, you are not. God is infinitely merciful; and you may be saved. Have you been praying to him to save you?”
“I never-prayed. Indeed, sir,—I never thought—of religion, till I was—sick, and the old lady talked—to me. But I cannot—understand her. I have never—read the Bible.—I never was inside—of a church—in my life. Nobody—ever asked me—to go, or told me—I ought to. I did not think—of religion. I just lived to enjoy—myself—as well—as I could. My aunt who took me—when my mother—died, never went—to church, and never said anything—to me about religion.—So I lived—as she—allowed me to, from the time I was three years old.—I had property—enough for everything—I wanted then; and after I left—school—about four years ago,—I had nothing—to do—but to go to parties—and dances—and attend to—my dress, and read—till—I was married.—Since that—we have had trouble.—My husband—I suppose—did not understand things—in our country—very well. He mortgaged—my house, and in a little while it was sold—and we were obliged—to leave it, and come here.”
“What did you read?” said I.
“Oh, I read novels; the most of the time—sometimes—I read other books; but—not much, except—some history, and biography.”
“Did you never read the Bible?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you got a Bible?”
“No, sir. The old lady—has got one—which she brings to me; but I am too weak—to read it. —It is a large book; and I—shall not live—long enough to read it.”
“You need not read it,” said I.—“But now suffer me to talk to you plainly. You are very sick. You may not live long. Will you give your attention to religion, as well as you can, in your weak state; and aim to get ready to die?”
“I would, sir—if I had time. But I do not—know anything—at all—about religion—and it would do me—no good—to try now, when I have—so little time—left.”
“You have time enough left.”
“Do you—think so—sir?”
“I know you have, Madam.”
She turned her eyes upon me, imploringly, and yet despondingly; and with a voice trembling with emotion, she said to me, speaking slowly and with difficulty:—
“Sir, I cannot—believe that—I have never begun—to learn religion.—I lived only for my—present enjoyment—till I was married; and since that, after—my husband—failed—all I have thought of—was to save—some little—of my property—if I could; so as not to—be a burden to other people.—And now,—there cannot—be time—enough left—for me—to begin with religion—and go—all the way through.”
“There is time enough,” said I.
Perceiving that she was already exhausted by her efforts to speak; I told her to rest for a few minutes, and I would see her again. I went into another room to see “the old lady,” (as she called her,) whom I found to be a pious Welsh woman, who had rented a part of her house to the sick woman’s husband, some months before, and who now devoted herself to take care of the poor sufferer. The tenant had squandered all his wife’s property; and now during her sickness, continued his dissipation, paying little attention to his dying wife. If he ever had a heart, rum had destroyed it.
“She is a good creature,” said the Welsh woman, “all but religion. When she was well, she was very kind to me. Though she was a lady, and had fine clothes, she was not ashamed to come and sit with me, an hour at a time, and talk to me and try to make me happy; for I am a poor, lone widow, seventy years old; and all my children are dead; and when I told her how it was with me, that I had nothing to live upon, but the rent I got for the rooms of my house; and she found out, (I did not tell her of it,) that her husband did not pay the rent any longer; she sold her rings and some of her clothes, and brought me the money, poor thing, and told me to take it. I did not know, at first, that she sold her rings and her clothes to get it; and when I asked her how she got it, and she told me, I said to her I would not have it, it would burn my fingers if I took it, and the rust of it would eat my flesh, as it were fire, and be a canker in my heart, and be a swift witness against me in the day of the great God, our Saviour. So I gave it back to her; but she would not take it: she laid it down there,”—(pointing to it with her finger,—) “on the mantlepiece,—it is five weeks yesterday,—and there it has been ever since. I cannot touch it. I never will touch it, unless I am forced to take it to buy her a coffin. Christ Jesus would not have taken the price of a lady’s rings and clothes, in such a case; and it is not for the like of me to do it. Poor thing! she will soon die, and then she will want rings and clothes no longer! Oh, sir! if I could only think she would wear robes of glory in heaven I would not weep so. But I am afraid it is all too late for her now! Religion is a hard business for a poor, sick sinner! And her husband would not go for you, week before last, nor last week. He never went till this morning, when I told him, as I was a living woman, he never should enter the house to-night,—he should sleep in the street, if he did not bring you here before the clock struck twelve. I want you to pray for her. There is no telling what God may do. May be he will send suddenly. But I cannot tell her the way. I have tried. I tried hard; but, poor thing, she said she could not understand me. And then, I could do nothing but come to my room and weep for her, and go to prayer, and then weep again. I am glad you have come. And now don’t leave her, till you have prayed and got a blessing,—if it is not too late.”
I have seldom heard eloquence surpassing that of “the old lady.” Some of her expressions were singular, but they seemed to have in them the majesty and tenderness of both nature and religion.
I borrowed the “old lady’s” Bible; and returned to the sick woman’s room. Seating myself by the side of her bed, I told her I did not wish her to talk, for it wearied her. But I wanted she should listen to me, without saying a word, only if she did not understand me, she might say so, and I would explain myself.
“Can I understand?”—said she, (with a look of mingled earnestness and despair.)
“Certainly you can. Religion is all simple and easy, if one desires to know it; and if you do not understand me, it is my fault, not yours.”
“And now, my dear child; listen to me, a little while. I will not be long. But first allow me to pray with you, for a single minute.”
After prayer, I took the Bible, and told her it was God’s word, given to us to teach us the way to eternal life and happiness beyond the grave;—that it taught all I knew, or needed to know about salvation;—that though it was a large book, and contained many things, which might be profitable to her under other circumstances; yet, all that she needed to think of just now, was embraced in a few ideas, which were easy to be understood;—and I wanted her to listen to them, and try to understand them.
“I will—sir,” said she, “as well—as I can.”
“Hear what God says then,” said I.
“The first thing is—that we are sinners.” I explained sin. I explained the Law which it transgressed, how it is holy, just and good; and we have broken it, because we have not loved the Lord our God with all our heart, and our neighbor as ourselves.
“No, I have—never loved—him,” said she.
I dwelt upon our sin, as guilt and alienation from God; explained how sinners are worldly, proud, selfish; and read the texts as proofs and explanations,—“by the deeds of the Law shall no flesh be justified—the carnal mind is enmity against God, for it is not subject to the Law of God.” In short, that man is, in himself, a lost sinner; God is angry with him, and he has a wicked heart.
Said she, “That seems—strange—to me; wish—I had known it—before.”
“The second thing is—that just such sinners may be saved, because Jesus Christ came to seek and to save the lost. I read from the Bible, ‘God so loved the world that he gave his own Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities. The chastisement of our peace was upon him. The Lord hath laid upon him the iniquity of us all.’ You see, therefore, that sinners can be saved. Christ died for them.”
“Will he—save me?” said she.
“I hope he will—but listen to me.—The third thing is, that lost sinners will be saved by Christ, if they repent of sin and believe in him.” I continued to select texts and read them to her. “God now commandeth all men everywhere to repent. Except ye repent, ye shall all like, wise perish. As many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in his name. Christ is the end of the Law for righteousness to everyone that believeth. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”
As I read such passages, turning over the leaves of the book, as I stood by her bed-side; her eyes followed the turning leaves, and she gazed upon the book in astonishment. At times, when repeating a peculiar text, my eyes rested on her face instead of the book, and then she would ask, “Is that in God’s word?” I found it best, therefore, just to look on the book, and read slowly and deliberately.
“The fourth, thing is, that we need the aid of the Holy Spirit to renew our hearts, and bring us to faith and repentance. ‘Except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh; that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. No man can come unto me, except the Father which sent me draw him. In me is thy help. Let him take hold on my strength, that he may make peace with me, and he shall make peace with me.’ Man is helpless without the Holy Spirit.
The last thing is, that all this salvation is freely offered to us now, to-day, and it is our duty and interest to accept it on the spot, and just as we are, undone sinners. ‘Hear and your soul shall live. Seek ye the Lord while he may be found. Call ye upon him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him, and to our God for he will abundantly pardon. If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him. Behold now is the accepted time; behold now is the day of salvation. Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. The Spirit and the bride say, come; and let him that is athirst come; and let him that heareth say, come; and whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely.’
“Now, my dear child, this is all; only these five things. I will now leave you for an hour, to rest, and then I will be back to see you.”
In an hour I returned, determined to go over the same things; and explain them, if needful, more fully. As I entered the room she looked at me with a gladsome smile, and yet with an intense earnestness, which for an instant I feared was insanity. Said she, “I am so glad you have come;—I have been—thinking—of what yon read—to me. These things—must be true; but I don’t know—as I should—believe them, if they were not—in the word—of God. I understand some—of them.—I know I am—a sinner—I feel it. I never knew it—so before.—I have not loved God. I have been—wicked and foolish. I am—undone. And now—when I know it, my heart—is so bad, that instead of—loving God—it shrinks from—him,—and I am afraid—it is too late—for me!”
“Yes,” said I; “your heart is worse than you think. You can make it no better. Give it to God. Trust Christ to pardon all. He died for just such lost sinners.”
“Yes, sir,—I remember—that; but—what is it—to believe? I do not—understand that thing.—You said I must repent of sin,—and must believe—in Jesus Christ.-—I think that I understand one—of these things. To repent is to be sorry for my—sin,—and to leave it. But—what is it—to believe?—I cannot—understand that. What is believing—in Jesus Christ?”
“It is trusting him to save you. It is receiving him, as your own offered Saviour, and giving yourself to him, as a helpless sinner, to be saved by his mercy. He died to atone for sinners.”
“I believe that,—for God’s word—says so.—Is this—all the faith—that I must have?”
“No; not at all. You must have more. You must trust him. You must receive him as your own Saviour, and give yourself to him. You may remember the passage I read to you. Here it is in God’s word:—‘As many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name’ You see that, here, ‘believing’ and ‘receiving’ express the same thing. You are to take Christ as God offers him to you; and you are to rely on Him to save you. That is faith.”
“Sir,—I am afraid—I can never—understand it,” said she, the tears coursing over her pale cheek.
“Yes, you can. It is very simple. There are only two things about it. Take Christ for your own, and give yourself to him to be his. Sometimes these two things are put together in the Bible, as when a happy believer says, ‘my beloved is mine, and I am his.’ It is union with Christ, as if he were your husband, and you were his bride.”
“Oh! sir,—it is all dark to me!—Faith—I cannot—understand it !”
“See here, my dear child. If you were here on this island, and it was going to sink; you would be in a sad condition, if you could not get off: There would be no hope for you, if you had no help. You would sink with the island. You could not save yourself. You might get down by the shore, and know and feel the necessity of being over on the other side, quickly, before the island should go down. But you could not get there alone. There is a wide river betwixt you and the place of safety, where you wish to go. It is so deep, that you could not wade it. It is so wide and rapid, that you could not swim it. Your case would be hopeless, if there was no help for you. You would be lost!—But there is a boat there. You see it, going back and forth, carrying people over, where they want to go. People tell you it is safe, and you have only to go on it. It seems safe to you, as you behold it in motion. You believe it is safe.—Now what do you do, in such a case? You just step on board the boat. You do not merely believe, it would save you, if you were on it; but you go on it. You commit yourself to it. When you get on; you do not work, or walk, or run, or ride. You do nothing, but one. You take care not to falloff. That is all. You just trust to the boat, to hold you up from sinking, and to carry you over, where you want to go. Just so, trust yourself to Jesus Christ to save you. He will carry you to heaven. Venture on him now He waits to take you.”
“But—will he save—such—a wicked—undone creature—as I am?”
“Yes; he will. He says he will. He came from heaven to do it; ‘to seek and to save that which was lost.’ He invites you to come to him. I read it to you in his word; ‘come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’”
“May I go?” says she, (her countenance indicating the most intense thought; and her eyes, suffused with tears of gladness and doubt, fixing upon me, as if she would read her doom from my lips.)
“Yes, you may go to Christ. Come in welcome. Come now. Come just such a sinner as you are. Christ loves to save such sinners.”
She raised herself upon her couch, and leaning upon her elbow, with her dark locks falling over the snowy whiteness of her neck, her brow knit, her lips compressed, her fine eyes fixed upon me, and her bosom heaving with emotion,—she paused for a moment,—said she:—
“I do want—to come to Christ.”
“He wants you to come,” said I.
“Will he—take-me?” said she.
“Yes, he will; he says he will,” said I.
“I am wicked—and do not—deserve it,” said she.
“He knows that; and died to save you,” said I.
“Oh, I think—I would come, if God,—if the Holy Spirit—would help—me. But—my heart is afraid. I thought,—just now; if I only knew—the way, I would do it. But now, when—you have told me; I cannot believe it. I cannot, trust Christ. I never—knew before; what—a distant heart I have!”
“The Holy Spirit does help you. At this moment in your heart, he urges you to come, to trust Christ. The Bible tells you to come. ‘The Spirit and the bride say, come.’ God lengthens the hours of your life, that you may come; while he says to you, ‘Behold now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation.’”
I paused for a little time; and as I watched her countenance, she appeared to be absorbed in the most intense thought. Her brow was slightly knit—her lips quivered—her fine eyes roamed from side to side, and often upwards; and then, closed, for a moment. And seeming utterly forgetful of my presence, she slowly pronounced the words, with a pause almost at every syllable;—“lost sinner—anger—God—Christ—blood —love—pardon—heaven—help—Bible—now—come.” And then, turning her eyes upon me, she said:
“I do want—to come—to Christ—and rest on him.—If my God—will accept—such—a vile sinner—I give myself—to him—forever!—oh!—he will—accept me—by Christ—who died!—Lord save me—I lie on thee—to save me.”
She sunk back upon her bed, with her eyes lifted to heaven, and her hands raised in the attitude of prayer; while her countenance indicated amazement.
I knelt by her bed, uttered a short prayer, and left her, to return at sunset.
As I returned, the old Welsh woman met me at the door, her eyes bathed in tears, and her hands lifted to the heavens. I supposed she was going to tell me that the sick woman was dead; but, with uplifted hands, she exclaimed, “Blessed be God! blessed be God ! The poor thing is happy now; she is so happy! Thank God! she is so happy! She looks like an angel now! She has seen Christ, her Lord; and she will be an angel soon! Now I can let her die! I can’t stop weeping! She has been a dear creature to me! But it makes my heart weep for joy now, when I see what God has done for her, and how happy she is.”
She conducted me to her sick friend’s room. As I entered, the dying woman lifted her eyes upon me, with a smile:—
“The Lord—has made me happy!—I am very happy. I was afraid—my wicked heart never would—love God. But, he has—led me to it. Christ—is very dear—to me. I can—lean on him now. I—can die—in peace.”
I conversed with her for some minutes, the “old lady” standing at my elbow, in tears. She was calm and full of peace. She said, “All you told me—was true; my heart finds it true.—How good—is Jesus, to save such sinners!—I was afraid—to fall upon him; but I know now—that believing is all. My heart—is different. I do love God. Jesus Christ is very dear—to me.”
She appeared to be fast sinking. I prayed with her, and left her. The next day she died. I visited her before her death. She was at peace. She could say but little; but some of her expressions were remarkable. She desired to be bolstered up in her bed, that she might “be able to speak once more.” She seemed to rally her strength; and speaking with the utmost difficulty, the death—gurgle in her throat, and the tears coursing down her pale, and still beautiful cheek, she said:—
“I wonder—at God.—Never was there such love.—He is all goodness.—I want—to praise—him.—My soul—loves him. I delight—to be his.—He—has forgiven me—a poor sinner—and now—his love exhausts me.—The Holy Spirit helped me—or my heart—would have held—in its own—goodness—in its unbelief.—God has heard me.—He has come—to me,—and now—I live—on prayer.—Pardon me—sir,—I forgot—to thank you—I was—so carried off—in thinking of my God.—He will—reward you—for coming to see me.—I am going—to him—soon—I hope.—Dying will be sweet—to me—for Christ—is with me.”
I said a few words to her, prayed with her, and left her. As I took her hand, at that last farewell she cast upon me a beseeching look, full of tenderness and delight, saying to me: “May hope— you—will always—go to see—dying sinners?”—It was impossible for me to answer audibly she answered for me;—“I know—you will—farewell.”
She continued to enjoy entire composure of mind till the last moment. Almost her last words to the “old lady” were, “My delight is—that God—is king—over all, and saves sinners—by Jesus Christ.”
I called at the house after she was dead, and proposed to the “old lady” that I would procure a sexton, and be at the expense of her funeral; lifting both her hands towards the heavens, she exclaimed,—“No, sir! indeed; no, sir! You wrong my heart to think of it! God sent you here at my call; and the poor thing has died in peace. My old heart would turn against me, if I should allow you to bury her! the midnight thought would torment me! She has been a dear creature to me, and died such a sweet death. I shall make her shroud with my own hands; I shall take her ring-money to buy her coffin; I shall pay for her grave; and then, as I believe her dear spirit has become a ministering angel, I shall hope she will come to me in the nights, and carry my prayer back to her Lord.”
She had it all in her own way; and we buried her with a tenderness of grief, which I am sure has seldom been equalled.

Greetings and praise the Lord of heaven and earth. He does all things well. God provided More than I could have considered in 2014, including the provision of a 6 week period before this trip to enjoy time with my family by blood and with family at Poquoson Baptist Church, and time to pray, read, and seek the Lord . I love the people of Jamaica and long to see them saved, and pray that God will do that which only He can do; save souls, forgive sin, draw men to His Son Jesus Christ. I started this mission by driving to Athens Ga to stay with my friend, Bobby Mcreery and his family. While in Athens we were able to share the Gospel with hundreds of UGa students as they walked the streets outside the bars in Athens on New Years Eve. We encountered many that expressed their hatred towards the Gospel, thinking it foolish that they would be judged by God, and were in need of salvation. Just as many would make some claim of having a relationship with God, yet were surely not seeking holiness, nor hungering and thirsting after righteousness. Instead they were openly displaying their friendship with the world and all the pleasures it offers, living as if they could party endlessly. We pray that many will consider what they heard and what they said and what they did in  response to God’s command to repent and be converted ; Or how they were invited and pleaded with to be reconciled to God.

We arrived in Montego Bay Jamaica Tuesday January 6, checking into a hotel about 2 miles from Sam Sharp Square, the town center in Jamaica. We started with 7, and in the next three weeks more than 20 men and women joined us for whatever amount of time they had. While in Jamaica, and by the generosity of some of the families on the outreach, we had a rental van for 6 days, allowing us to travel and share the Gospel in Montego Bay, Falmouth, Ocho Rios, Kingston, Negril, Lucea. During this time we distributed approximately 200 Bibles and 70,000 Gospel tracts, we preached, and sang hymns. Often we were asked to pray for some. We disputed much with many Seventh Day Adventists, Jehovah witnessws, Oneness Pentecostals, and Rastafarians. Like Paul spoke of Athens, this is a very religous group of people, and having a form of godliness but lacking the power thereof. All of these religions are built on self righteousness, and result in multitudes baptized yet living like devils. When asked if they are at peace with God, the most common answer is, ” not yet “, meaning not yet baptized. Each of these aforementioned religious are designed to keep men and women from the cross, distracting them with busy-work, and rule keeping, knocking on doors, and explaining prophecies. Jesus reurned to heaven , in a sense, by way of the cross, through His sinless life, atoning death on the cross, and His resurrection. He is the way, the truth and the life.

The Gospel is the – power of God- unto salvation for those who believe. The righteous are justified by faith. Our team would increase and decrease, with 16 about the max, and never less than 7. All too soon Jan 27 had arrived and we all departed for our own destination. I returned to Orlando Fla. and spent several days working with my friend John Baros, at the OWC abortion clinic. We rejoiced that several women chose life, and 2 went  to a local pregnancy counseling center. John received a message that both of these womwn were  indeed pregnant and had declared they would keep their baby, and they were enrolled in a system which would provide help. Leaving Orlando, I traveled to Claremont N.C. where I stayed with my dear friends Ronnie and Debbie Graham. Saurday I reached home, and by God’s mercy, grace and good providence, worshipped on the Lord’s Day with my brothers and sisters at Poquoson Baptist Church.

 

http://renewingyourmind.org/broadcasts/2015/01/22/a-voice-for-the-voiceless-an-interview-with-john-baros

http://www.ligonier.org/blog/stories-gods-grace-meet-john/