George Hughes

I cannot begin to enumerate the blessings that God has poured out upon my life. One of the greatest is that I was brought up in a good Christian home. My storybooks were those of the Bible, and the Bible itself was read to me daily. We had family prayer morning and evening.

My grandfather, in whose home I was reared, was saved in the smoking car of a railroad train. He had watched the Christian life of my grandmother until deep conviction came upon him, and on his way back to the mine after a weekend at home, he gave God his life. He became a real Christian and used to teach me about the Bible and what is expected of a Christian.

But in spite of my Christian training I was not a real Christian. One cannot be educated into it; it doesn’t come because one is born of Christian parents. I knew there was sin in my life, and I fought against it. I tried hard to live above sin; but every day, try as hard as I could, I still committed sin.

I was still a young boy when an Apostolic Faith paper came to our home in a little mining town in Central Washington. That paper had passed through several hands. I do not know how many had read it before we received it, but I know several that had. Finally the Lord directed it to us, and it changed the course of our lives.

But in spite of my Christian training I was not a real Christian.

We wrote these people immediately and they began to send the paper to us regularly. I used to go to the post office for the mail, and when the paper would come I knew the regular routine of our home life would be upset for several days. The folks only took care of the things that were necessary until the paper was read through and passed on to others.  The paper eventually meant the salvation of several of us and also some that were our friends.

My mother and I came to Portland, Oregon to a camp meeting. It was here that I knelt and was saved. My Christian life began with that prayer, as the Bible says it should. It didn’t begin with a public confession of faith, with a shaking of a preacher’s hand, with a mere acceptance of Christ; but God became real to me, changed the whole course of my life, and gave me power over sin that has kept me living clean every day.

I found the Gospel real in grammar school, and in high school also. I found it worked in one place of employment for fifteen years, advancing from the lowest position to one of considerable responsibility. God helped me to live as a Christian should live before my business associates.

I thank God for a salvation that can do that for a young man. Never once have I wanted to go to a moving-picture show; never once have I wanted to attend a dance; never once have I wanted to frequent a questionable place of entertainment. Instead, I have enjoyed being in the places where a real Christian will be found—in the house of God or in other places where there is Christian fellowship or work to do for God.

During the war I was called into the service of my country. I thank God that He didn’t desert me when I had to leave my church, when I had to go out and stand by myself for three years away from God’s people. I found there, also, that Jesus was an ever-present friend. He stayed with me in times of loneliness, in times of dreariness, in times of extreme danger—when it was “hot” in more ways than one in the tropical islands “down under.” I went into the army a Christian, and I came out a Christian, thanks to God and to the prayers of His people.

The best step I ever made was when I gave my life to God.

One of the officers told me when I first went into the service that the best thing I, or any other Christian, could do was to forget my Christianity while I was in the Army. But I thank God that I have a salvation and a religion that can go with me every day, to every place where I am called upon to go. The best thing a young man can possibly do is to take the Lord with him. The best step I ever made was when I gave my life to God.

There were hard places to go through in the service. But the Lord carried me through them all and brought me home safely. There have been hard places in civilian life, also. But I have found God very near to me here, and all through my life.

A short while after I arrived home, I was caught in a gasoline explosion and my clothing saturated with flaming gasoline. It happened so quickly, I could hardly think what it was all about. My first impulse was to run. But God was there with me at that time also.

We sing a song about the “Blood-washed Pilgrim,” that says God appeared in the flame beside him when he in was in the furnace of affliction. That was my experience there in the flames that wrapped around my face when the Son of God appeared. I heard His voice as distinctly as though some human were standing beside me. He told me what to do, and I did it. At that instant the flames went out. I thank God for His presence with me.

But I did not need to swear and neither did I feel like doing it. God was with me.

I stood and looked at myself. I held up my charred arms and looked at them and said to myself, “I wonder if I will ever move them again?” Streamers of burn and torn flesh hung from my arms, chest, ears, and face. One bone was exposed. My lips and nose were burned, from the flames, which I had inhaled. I was a terrible sight—third degree burns from my waist to the top of my heard, with only a small area down my back and my two eyes remaining untouched.

Down through the mountains they brought me—a three-hour ride of torture. One of the men, a sinner, looked at me and said, “Why don’t you swear? I’d be cursing with all my might if it was me.” But I did not need to swear and neither did I feel like doing it. God was with me.

The doctor who gave me first aid told those who were with me that I was dying. I lay on the operating table for four hours while they dressed the burns; my condition so bad they dared not give me an anesthetic for fear it would kill me. I was fully conscious all the time and talked with eight doctors and nurses who worked on me for that time. Then for ten days I lay between life and death. But in that whole time God and His people were at my side.  

God is my dearest Friend, the One who never forsakes me, and Who is always at my side.

Often I would open my eyes and see, through the tiny slits in the bandages, one of the ministers or saints standing there. These people were praying for me. My name was mentioned many times in their prayers, and God undertook and healed those burns in better than record time. I was told a year later that another man, burned at the same time as I and in about the same degree, was still in the hospital. He was depending entirely upon man for his healing. I depended on God and was back at my desk in less than two months’ time. I have much for which to thank God.

God has given me some wonderful opportunities to work for Him. I gave Him my life and He has let me go more than halfway around the world, into places that I never dreamed I’d ever visit, to tell people about Jesus.

I recently returned from a trip to Africa where it was my privilege to worship with many of those dear people who have come to know our Lord. I found God was there, too, when sickness overtook me, or when I needed help in any other way. God is my dearest Friend, the One who never forsakes me, and Who is always at my side. I love Him with all my heart.