Eva Ballard

I am thankful for the guiding Hand of the Lord in leading me to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. One day, at the home of one of our relatives, I saw a Bible for the first time and heard Scripture read. My cousin had said for me to come and have worship with them. I said, “Worship—what is that?” I went with her and listened as the Bible was read and saw them kneel to pray. It seemed from that time on I had an interest in the Bible. I’m sure that all the moving that we had done from place to place was God ordained, as our next move was from Canada to Puyallup, Washington.

I saw a Bible for the first time and heard Scripture read.

My Aunt Nellie, whose place I had gone to “worship” realized that I was interested and gave me one of her Bibles and also prayed for me. I started reading and found out that God’s Word is spiritually discerned, so not being saved, the Word was a closed Book to me.

My family’s first year in Puyallup was not an easy one for us. The fifty dollars we had when we arrived was soon gone. Dad had to find a job, and jobs were scarce at that time. He did much seasonal work during the berry harvest, but lacked much work during the rest of the year. He finally got a job in a box factory. Wages were small, but we survived. Then my dad was sick and had to have an appendectomy. This, too, we survived.

Somewhere along his life, the Lord must have been dealing with him. He had found it too much an effort or lack of time for church attendance, but he had made the remark that if we ever lived close enough we should start going to church. After coming to Puyallup, we had no excuse because there were many churches, though our church going was just off and on.

But—there was a change! Some Christian people moved in to a home next door to us and were faithful to invite us to their services; which at that time were cottage meetings. My mother promised to go, but kept putting it off. Still she felt the need to keep her word, she said, “I promised to go sometime, so to keep my promise, I will go once.” Once was all it took to bring conviction and knowledge of her need to be saved. But my poor Dad wanted the world with some church, too, which robbed him of the reality of the Gospel. My mother went back again and this time I went with her. Though a humble place, the Spirit of God was there. At the end of the service, they encouraged those who felt the need, to kneel and pray. I knelt at the altar made with a few kitchen chairs and a bench or two, and they prayed with me. A few moments later such peace flooded my soul—a thirteen-year-old girl had been saved. Saved by the Blood of the crucified One. How that old song rang out that night—“There’s a New Name Written Down in Glory, and it’s Mine.”

Though a humble place, the Spirit of God was there.

That was my first contact with the Apostolic Faith people. Brother Modrell was the minister at that time. As time went by, I was privileged to go with a group from the church to nursing homes and began teaching Sunday school when I was about twenty years old.

During my teen years I worked at a box factory and also at canneries. My parents had separated when I was twenty-one; so I worked to support both my mother and myself.

My husband-to-be (before we met) had no time for the Gospel for awhile but eventually felt the power of conviction. He was led to talk to Brother Modrell, and while driving back home in his car, God saved him. He was so excited that he just had to tell somebody the good news. He woke some friends up at midnight to share his experience with them.

It was in 1937 that Hugh and I decided to get better acquainted. This opportunity presented itself when we were asked to help hang curtains in an apartment above the church that was being prepared for visiting workers from other branch churches. It took us a little while to get them hung.

I was married to Hugh Adrian Ballard on May 3, 1937. He was twenty-six and I twenty-four; our mothers went with us to Tacoma to be our witnesses, where a lady judge officiated the wedding rites. There were no pre-nuptial showers given in those days, but we were given one pair of pillowcases, a luncheon set, and a cake taker for wedding gifts.

Hugh was an outgoing man, loving to entertain and have company in, especially during the war years (WWII) when many service men were brought to our meetings. Our home was next door to the church. At this time Hugh was doing deferred service, working in the shipyards. He loved the Gospel and its standard.

“There’s a New Name Written Down in Glory, and it’s Mine.”

We were living in Portland at the time of my husband’s death. He had been asked to move to Portland to assist in the maintenance work. This service to the Lord came to an abrupt end when he passed away on October 20, 1960. With the Lord, there are no mistakes, so we bow with “Not my will, but Thine be done.” We had been married twenty-three years. God had blessed us with two children; a son Ellis, and a daughter Nata.

I preached my first sermon on February 9, 1944. I chose for my text, “Let mine eyes look right on…” I was ordained at the campgrounds on July 18, 1945.

One of the bright spots of my life was attending our camp meeting held annually in Portland, Oregon. The first two times I went, the meetings were held for seven weeks, later down to five, then three, and now two. I covet the privilege that I had to sit under the teachings of our church founder, Florence Crawford and the others that were faithful to God’s call to preach the Word.

I’m very grateful and honored to have had a place in God’s service from my early life, until the years have slipped away and old age has crept in. My fondest hope is to live any years that I have left pleasing the Lord, as He wills. May God bless all the dear saints, loved ones, and family with His greatest blessings and a conscious knowledge of God’s love and mercy until He calls.