I was standing in a wagon driving home from Hawick, Minnesota. The Lord
spoke to me and said, "I want you to go to Belgrade next Sunday and
preach." I replied, "I do not know what to preach." The Lord answered, "You
go and open your mouth wide, and I will fill it." I argued that I did not
have the money to go. He answered, "I'll tend to that."
When I arrived home from Hawick, there was a letter from an old brother
about 80 years of age living at Norway Lake, Minn. He said, "The Lord has
been telling me that you ought to go to Belgrade and hold them a meeting,
and I am sending you the carfare." So I went.
Another time I was holding a meeting north of Belgrade and staying with
Brother and Sister Andrew Larson. The night before leaving that locality I
dreamed that when I came to Belgrade, I saw a man go into the depot just
ahead of me, and as he stepped away from the ticket window he said, "Ha,
ha, ha, I may as well go home then, since there is no train until three
o'clock this afternoon."
Brother Larson was to take me to the depot early in the morning, and it was
cold. When telling them my dream they laughed, and we all laughed. They
said, "It can't be that bad."
It was about six miles to town and riding in an open buggy, I got cold, and
when we got within about a quarter mile from town, I said, "You had better
let me out here and I will walk and get warmed up." So he did. When I
arrived at the depot a man walked in just ahead of me, and when he turned
from the window, he said, "Ha, ha, ha, I might just as well go home since
there will be no trains until three o'clock this afternoon."
I walked up to the ticket window and said, "How come the train is so late?"
He said, "An old freight train ran off the track and they will have to
clean up before the passenger train can come through." I did not wait, but
walked home--a distance of twenty miles.
* * * * *
At one time I held a meeting in what was known as Clark school house,
fifteen miles south of Cohasset, Minnesota. After the last Sunday morning
service, I said, "If there is anyone who will take me to Cohasset after
service tonight, my heavenly Father will give him a hundred fold in this
life, and eternal life in the world to come." So going down to the door
after service to shake hands with the folks, there stood a nice-looking
young man who had not been out to the services before. He said, "I'll take
you to town tonight." I said, "All right, thank you," and out he went.
After a while Brother Goodell, the elder, came and said, "I'll take you to
town." I said, "You are too late. You lost your pay this time." He said,
"Who is going to take you?" I answered, "The young man who stood by the
door when I got there." He thought a while, then he said, "Oh, that was
Henry Garber; that will never do. He is not saved. He drinks a little,
dances, plays cards and likely smokes." Then he added, "I'l take you. The
road is bad" (and it surely was). I answered him, "If he is like that he
needs the pay." "Well," he said, "He may not come. Aren't you afraid to go
with him?" "No," I said.
He came, and it took us quite a while to get there on account of the road.
We talked farming, dancing, drinking, love and salvation. Getting to town,
it was still an hour and a half before the train would arrive. He said,
"Wouldn't it be good to have a little lunch now?" I said, "That would be
fine." "Alright," he said, "you order what you want." "Aren't you going to
have some?" I asked; but he said, "no." After lunch he said, "How about a
little ice cream now." "Fine," I said.
There were quite a number of young folks in the restaurant and while I was
eating he was talking to the young people telling them he had been to two
services that day and he added, "They were two of the best sermons I have
ever heard in my life." They called out in a chorus, "Henry, Henry, have
you sworn off?" Then they asked, "Who preached?" He answered, "Reverend
Susag over here."
After I got through eating, he introduced me to all those young people.
Then I said, "You had better get me to the depot now, and start for home;
the road is so bad." "Well," he said, "I will not start back until you are
on the train." And so he did; and when he put my grips on the train, he
said, "Good by," and as he shook hands with me he left $3.00 in my hand. As
he was leaving me he said,
"When--" but he never finished what he started to say. No doubt he meant to
say, "When you pray remember me." I did not hear of him, nor see him for
two or three years. Going to Milwaukee one Sunday to hold services for
Brother Flint, a young man came to me in the chapel and said, "Praise the
Lord Brother Susag." I said, "Amen." I looked at him and he said, "Do you
know me?" I answered, "Yes, I have met you somewhere, but I don't remember
where." "Think of Cohasset, Minnesota," he answered. I slapped him on the
shoulder and said, "Henry, when did you get saved?" "Driving home that
night," he said; "thinking how you treated me, almost a stranger, you spoke
to me like a father--with such good understanding of everything and you
called me brother and I got broken up, and going to my room on the farm, I
knelt by my bed and repented and the Lord saved me. It was so good and the
Lord made me so happy. I went to see my parents who lived six miles out of
Milwaukee, Wisconsin." They all became members of the congregation in
Milwaukee, and Henry became a much loved and respected member of the
congregation in Grand Rapids, Minnesota, and for many years one of the
leaders and finally went home to his reward.
One time I was holding a meeting in the neighborhood where a young man
lived who was one of our first converts, and he attended my services. One
day he asked me if I would go home with him. I said, "Yes." On the way, he
stopped me and said, "Have you got grace enough?" I answered, "I think so."
Finally we got near his home, and in a little grove he stopped me again and
he repeated, "Have you got grace enough?" I answered again, "I think so,
but if you think I need more, let us pray that the Lord will give me all
that I need." We knelt down in the grove there and prayed. Coming into the
house he introduced me to his mother, a fine looking lady. We sat down and
had a friendly chat, and before I knew it, I said, "Praise the Lord."
"Oh," she said, "You are one of them are you?" Then she gave me a real
tongue lashing. This was because several of her sons and daughters had
gotten saved, and they were very much persecuted because they left their
church. Sometimes when she would find Olaf on his knees praying, she would
grab him by the hair and pull him around in the house.
Finally her husband came in, and she introduced me to him.
"Susag," he said, "are you the husband of that witch over near Paynesville
or Hawick, that goes singing and fingering on the strings on that box,
getting people to weep and taking them away from their parents?" (Wife
played a harp when she sang.) "You get out of this house as fast as your
feet can carry you."
I took my hat and started for the door, and as I came near, he stood there
with his hatchet in his hand and said, "If you come nearer, I will smash
your head," and lifted the hatchet. I realized the man was so angry he did
not know what he was saying, so I went back and sat down. "Say, Mr.
Erickson," I said, "sit down, and let me tell you how the Lord saved us."
"Alright," he answered. His wife said, "Get him out, get him out!" Then he
answered, "Let him speak out of his heart. It is the first time he has ever
been in our house." "No," she said, "Get him out." "No, no, wife, be
quiet." And he sat down and I related how the Lord convicted wife and I.
(We used to be of the same faith as they were.) When I had told them our
experience, he came over and put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "You
can stay with us over night, but don't say anything about your religion."