Raymond Smith

How I love my Savior!  I shall never cease to praise God for His mercy and love to me. In 1923, God brought me to Portland, Oregon. I came because I received a letter from my father, a physician and an unbeliever. He said my sister had gone crazy over a religion. I had just won the coveted Art School First award back east, and had every intention of pursuing goals that I had recently set. However, my plans changed after I arrived in Portland and learned that my sister had found the old-time religion. When I tried to talk to her about it, God began to deal with my proud young heart. He convicted me until I knelt and prayed at a tear-stained altar in the Apostolic Faith Church. He gave me enough honesty to pray until I had an answer and the issue of salvation was settled with me. That day, Jesus gave me the faith and confidence in Him that I had previously tried to get mentally. Instantly, the love of cigarettes was gone—I could not even stand the smell of them.

I went home and told my mother, “I know how Paul the Apostle felt when he saw a light from Heaven. I don’t believe God was more real to him on that day than He is to me today.” She came to the next meeting with me and also received this glorious salvation.

God planted a reality in my heart that stood the test. A few months after I was saved, I was given up to die by the physicians. I was just a young man, when a group of doctors gathered around my bed, and I heard them say, “He will be a corpse by morning.” I had been caught in a drive shaft while at work in a sawmill, and my legs were broken, mangled, and nearly twisted from my body. Both were in such a condition that when one of the doctors moved them, he said there was no sign of their knitting back together. Fourteen days had passed since the accident and lockjaw had set in. It reached the blood stream before it was discovered, so within a few hours I developed a fever of 107 degrees and my body became locked in a terrible contortion. I was packed with ice and given no hope of survival. As the doctors left my room that day, I mumbled to the nurse through the clenched teeth of my locked jaw that God had saved my soul a few months before, and I was not afraid to die. In fact, I was hoping He would take me and put an end to my suffering.

God spoke to me though, and put a burden on my heart to tell the wonderful Gospel Story. I heard a Voice whisper, “No cross, no crown.” A few moments later, I told God I would tell the Story if He saw fit to heal my body; and just as quickly as you could snap your finger, God came down and broke the contortion and fever, and healed my body. I felt the power of God that night. In the morning, the nurse said, “God has healed you.” In just two months and ten days I was out of the hospital, walking—on legs that were never set by a doctor. The doctors wanted to break my legs and reset them, but I said God had done a good job and I would continue to trust Him. It is true that I am four inches shorter than I was, but I have never had any trouble with my legs.

When I was released, I wrote a letter to my dad telling him what had happened. Because he was a doctor, he did not believe it. He came to visit and went to the hospital to see the records for himself. He had always taught me that there was no God, but that day God reached his heart. After he saw my medical records, he said, “Son, there must be a God. I was wrong.” A few days later, he knelt and prayed. I know he is in Heaven today.

God did a wonderful job when He healed me. I have been through many physical examinations during years of military service, and have passed them all. These legs have taken me around the world in my duties as an officer in the United States Army. That night in the hospital when I said I would serve God, I never dreamed I would have the opportunity to witness in Africa, China, Germany, and India.

In 1940, I was called to service as a reserve officer. I thank God I could take Christ with me. When I was in Beirut, Lebanon, I saw people killed, but Jesus removed all fear from my heart. He helped my men as well. I lived a Christian life before them every day, and I was able to tell them about Jesus when the opportunity arose, especially when they were in trouble. One time, in North Africa, a young man was facing some serious charges. He came to me and we prayed, and God delivered him. My best recommendation for a soldier is the old-time religion.

For more than fifty years, I have been telling this wonderful Story. I thank God for the privilege I have had to help spread the Gospel. It is the richest thing in all the world.