Don Danner

I thank God for the old-time religion and victory over sin! My Christian heritage started when my parents and grandparents told me about miracles God had performed in their lives. One of my grandfathers was shot while on his cavalry horse during the Civil War. The shot hit the Bible he had in his pocket and knocked him off his horse. But only his pride was injured.

On the other side of my family, one uncle was a hopeless narcotics addict. He came into an Apostolic Faith service as the congregation was singing, “The Blood of Jesus ransomed me,” and said to his mother, “They’re singing that just for me.” He prayed after the service and was instantly delivered.

The stories I was told registered in my heart. I knew there was a way out of sin, and my boyhood heart was full of sin. In 1927 at an old-fashioned camp meeting, I went down the aisle and poured out my heart to God.

I enjoyed the fruits of this wonderful salvation for a time. However, I let that experience go and became a backslider. For twenty-eight long years I was out in the cold world of sin. It is a sorrowful thing to know the Son of God and then turn Him aside to go your own stubborn way.

I became successful in life; I had a good home, excellent employment, and plenty of friends. I had friends among the millionaires; I mingled with them every day. I enjoyed many of the good things in life. I seemingly had everything needed to make a person happy. But the life of sin does not pay. I was full of sin and sorrow.

God spoke to my heart often. Many times, I stepped out of my place of business and looked down the street to see the neon sign, “Jesus, the Light of the World” on top of the Apostolic Faith Church building, and my mind would go back to the days when I enjoyed the fullness of the Gospel. That sign struck conviction to my heart, but what did I do about it? Nothing!

I lost the best friend I ever had, my Christian mother, and that was a dagger to my heart. I knew she had the old-time religion, and it had paid off. I knew I must serve my mother’s God. I thank God the Gospel was still the same as when I had turned my back on it years before. I believe that is what brought me back.

On Sunday, October 11, 1959, I went to the tabernacle on the Portland campground with the expectation of going to the altar to pray. The bright lights of the world had paled into insignificance, and I was ready to surrender completely to God. It was a beautiful day. The flowers were a brilliant array of colors, birds were singing sweetly, and the sun was shining brightly. It was just the kind of day on which I used to go about the countryside focusing my camera on the spectacular scenes of nature. But God’s focus was on my heart, and I stopped long enough to listen to what He had to say. I felt it was my final call.

At the altar, old friends that I had known from my youth gathered around me and called on God for me. When I became honest with God and let Him know I was through with the old life, He came down and performed a miracle—the Blood of Jesus washed my heart again and resurrected my backslidden soul. A backslider’s testimony is nothing to be proud of, but there is a redeeming feature about mine: God had mercy on a backslider, and a sinner has come home!

I never lost one good thing from my life because of my decision to serve God. Instead, I received peace and joy in my soul. God’s salvation is real, and I am thankful for it.