Jim Seely

I came to the camp meeting this year with a purpose to leave with more of the love of God in my heart than when I came. I don’t know how many camp meetings I have attended, but the first one was when my mother took me to one in Vancouver, B.C., in 1910 when I was four years old. That is where we first heard about the Apostolic Faith Church. My father joined us there, then came down to Portland later that summer for the camp meeting at S.E. 11th and Division Street and received the baptism of the Holy Ghost.

From then on, I was brought up in the Gospel, taught the standard of the Word of God, and I appreciated it. But later in life, I turned my back upon my Christian training and tried to find a good time in the things of the world. My parents continued to pray for me, and I’m glad I again turned my steps homeward.

One night in a hall some people in Medford had rented for church services, I sat in the back under deep conviction. I was told later that some of the young people had banded together to pray that God would save me. I think that is a good idea. It worked for me. One young man had been warned against me and was told to stay away from me because I was a backslider. That was the truth, but he didn’t shun me. At the close of that meeting I knelt and gave my heart to the Lord. I point back to March 4, 1923, as the day the Lord made that change in my life.

As I continued to pray, that sweet Spirit of God came once more into my heart.

I am glad God sanctified me, too. It was a definite experience in my life, a second, definite work of grace. I knew God had sanctified me.

God then gave me a hunger for the baptism of the Holy Ghost. I sought for a long time—longer than I should have. God would bless me so abundantly, thrill me with His power, but I would get up and leave with an “empty vessel.” I did that time after time, but God was faithful to me.

I was working as a truck driver for the U.S. Forest Service, and one day I stopped for my lunch break at the summit of Hayes Mountain out of Grants Pass, Oregon, and climbed up among the scrub oak. With a rotting log for an altar, I began to pour out my heart to God. Something happened inside, and I had the assurance I would get my baptism that night at the church service. And that night, as others knelt about and helped me pray, I told the Lord, “If You will come down and bless me again as You have in the past, I am going to believe that You have rewarded my faith.” As I continued to pray, that sweet Spirit of God came once more into my heart. I just reached up by faith and took hold of God’s promise. I can’t tell you how I did it, but I did. That night the Lord filled my “vessel’ to overflowing and gave me the wonderful experience of the baptism of the Holy Ghost.

And God is working in our family. During this camp meeting, my seventy-one year old brother came with a broken and contrite heart, repenting of a lifetime of sin, and gave his life to the Lord, and was born again. This week he was baptized in water. His wife, too, has been saved. How I appreciate the mercy of God!