MY ENCOUNTER WITH SMITH WIGGLESWORTH - Dr Lester Sumrall
Dr. Howard Carter, with whom I traveled for many years and who sent people all over the world to minister, told me of Smith Wigglesworth. In my travels around the world, I heard other reports about Wigglesworth until I wanted to see him more than any other prominent minister of the day. There was an eagerness inside of me to hear and see Smith Wigglesworth.
After I had been with Carter through Australia, the Orient and all through Europe, we returned to England for a national conference. Carter was chairman of the conference which was held in Cardiff, Wales, and he asked me to speak in the evening because I was an evangelist. He had asked Smith Wigglesworth to speak in the afternoon because he was a teacher.
The first week I was in Great Britain, my dream came true. I was teamed up with the man I had wanted most to meet.
He did some teaching that afternoon and prayed for the sick.
We sat on the platform together and smiled at each other.
"I've surely heard a lot about you, Brother Wigglesworth," I told him.
And I was very pleased when he replied, "Yeah, and I've heard a lot about you. I've been reading your articles for two years. Man, some of those stories about casting out devils! I like that. And your trip up to Tibet and back — I'm just glad you're not afraid."
So we kind of made a friendship there.
Wigglesworth heard me preach that night. Now, remember, I was still a very young man, and not extremely experienced although I had been preaching since I was seventeen. I preached the best I could, and I did give a successful altar call. When I was through and turned around on the platform, there was Smith Wigglesworth looking at me.
He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Son, you need to come see me."
In school, I had been called into the office, and I knew what it meant to face the principal and work on a problem. My first thought when Wigglesworth said I needed to see him was that I was being called to the principal's office.
I said, "Yes, sir, when can I come?"
He said, "Anytime. I live in Bradford. Here's my address and telephone number."
I said, "How often can I come? Do I need to let you know I am coming?"
He said, "You can come as often as you want to. These days I am home, so you don't have to let me know. Just knock on my front door, and I will open it. I'll always be glad to have you."
The next day, they had what we call "dinner on the grounds" in the southern United States. They had long, long tables loaded with good food. In the center was a roasted pig, which had been basted with oil and other good things as it was roasting. However, they made a big mistake — they asked Smith Wigglesworth to say grace. He walked over to that table, a big, healthy man, raised one hand to heaven, and said, "Almighty God, if you can now bless that which you have cursed, bless this foul pig to their bodies."
I looked around and thought, "Dear Lord, and we have visitors here!"
But those Welshmen tried to hide from him. They were the ones who had brought the pig and roasted it.
I went over to him and said, "Are you having a piece of pork today?"
He said, "I never touch the stinking stuff," so I had an introduction to the way he would say anything he thought ought to be said anytime and anywhere. He had no fear of man whatsoever.
Within a week after that conference I was on my way to Bradford. When I showed up at Wigglesworth's house, I had "gone native." I was a real Britisher with a bowler hat, similar to the one you saw Charlie Chaplin wear in his early movies, a black jacket, striped trousers, and a dark blue raincoat that came just above my knees. I wore beautiful pointed black shoes and had an umbrella under one arm and a newspaper under the other. I carried my briefcase in one hand.
My Personal Time With Wigglesworth
They did not have electric doorbells, but I grabbed the knocker and hit the door with it, then stepped back three or four steps.
When Wigglesworth opened the door, I said, "Here I am, Brother Wigglesworth."
He did not respond, just glared at me, and said, "Hoots under your' m?"
That meant, in his British accent, "What is under your arm?"
I said, "I have an umbrella under this one and the morning paper under this one."
He said, "Throw it away. You can't come in here with it. I don't permit those lies into my house. Hitler and Mussolini will soon be in hell where they belong. In my house, there's only truth, and that paper's full of lies — so leave it outside."
Hastily thrusting the paper into the bushes beside the door, I said, "Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir!"
When I came back out, someone had taken it, so I lost my paper altogether that day.
He then looked me over and said, "Cm'n." We went into the living room where he had a coal fire on, and it was very cozy. I thought I had come to talk, but he read to me a half hour
from the Bible.
Then he said, "It's time to pray," and he prayed for another half hour. He laid hands on me and prayed, "God, bless him! God, bless him!" My body was becoming weary. I was glad when he got through!
Basically Smith Wigglesworth was a "Bible man," who enjoyed reading his Bible to visitors and equally enjoyed praying long prayers over the reading. So he read to me from the Bible for another half hour, then said, "Let's pray again."
Inwardly, I said, "Lord, what did I get into here? This man will wear anybody out."
Your body can become weary after hours of this, but it seemed to bring a tremendous refreshing to Wigglesworth.
Finally, he got up from his knees and began to tell beautiful stories of how God had healed this disease and that condition.
I sat there weeping, absolutely overwhelmed.
At noon, his daughter, Alice Salter, called us to lunch.
She had prepared Yorkshire pudding, roast beef with that delicious gravy the British put on it, and peas. We had a delightful time of fellowship.
When we got through, he put his napkin on the table and said, "Come back again."
Then he walked away. His daughter explained that he had gone to get some rest.
Before I had gone a block from his house, I said to myself, "You know, I got something there. I'm different. I got something. I received a blessing. I received an anointing.
Something good happened to me in that place. I'll come back again."
I received life in that house. Both father and daughter had life.
About ten days later, I went back. Oh, yes, I had on my little dark-blue raincoat, and I had my umbrella and my bowler hat — but I did not have a newspaper!
I continued to go to Wigglesworth's house about every ten days for two years. I continued to listen to him read the Word and pray, and I heard personally of the mighty miracles God had done for him around the world.
My faith began to mount up strong in the presence of this man. We became good friends. When he had a convention, he would ask me to speak also.
- Pioneers Of Faith
- Spiritual Notes
Dr. Howard Carter, with whom I traveled for many years and who sent people all over the world to minister, told me of Smith Wigglesworth. In my travels around the world, I heard other reports about Wigglesworth until I wanted to see him more than any other prominent minister of the day. There was an eagerness inside of me to hear and see Smith Wigglesworth.
After I had been with Carter through Australia, the Orient and all through Europe, we returned to England for a national conference. Carter was chairman of the conference which was held in Cardiff, Wales, and he asked me to speak in the evening because I was an evangelist. He had asked Smith Wigglesworth to speak in the afternoon because he was a teacher.
The first week I was in Great Britain, my dream came true. I was teamed up with the man I had wanted most to meet.
He did some teaching that afternoon and prayed for the sick.
We sat on the platform together and smiled at each other.
"I've surely heard a lot about you, Brother Wigglesworth," I told him.
And I was very pleased when he replied, "Yeah, and I've heard a lot about you. I've been reading your articles for two years. Man, some of those stories about casting out devils! I like that. And your trip up to Tibet and back — I'm just glad you're not afraid."
So we kind of made a friendship there.
Wigglesworth heard me preach that night. Now, remember, I was still a very young man, and not extremely experienced although I had been preaching since I was seventeen. I preached the best I could, and I did give a successful altar call. When I was through and turned around on the platform, there was Smith Wigglesworth looking at me.
He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Son, you need to come see me."
In school, I had been called into the office, and I knew what it meant to face the principal and work on a problem. My first thought when Wigglesworth said I needed to see him was that I was being called to the principal's office.
I said, "Yes, sir, when can I come?"
He said, "Anytime. I live in Bradford. Here's my address and telephone number."
I said, "How often can I come? Do I need to let you know I am coming?"
He said, "You can come as often as you want to. These days I am home, so you don't have to let me know. Just knock on my front door, and I will open it. I'll always be glad to have you."
The next day, they had what we call "dinner on the grounds" in the southern United States. They had long, long tables loaded with good food. In the center was a roasted pig, which had been basted with oil and other good things as it was roasting. However, they made a big mistake — they asked Smith Wigglesworth to say grace. He walked over to that table, a big, healthy man, raised one hand to heaven, and said, "Almighty God, if you can now bless that which you have cursed, bless this foul pig to their bodies."
I looked around and thought, "Dear Lord, and we have visitors here!"
But those Welshmen tried to hide from him. They were the ones who had brought the pig and roasted it.
I went over to him and said, "Are you having a piece of pork today?"
He said, "I never touch the stinking stuff," so I had an introduction to the way he would say anything he thought ought to be said anytime and anywhere. He had no fear of man whatsoever.
Within a week after that conference I was on my way to Bradford. When I showed up at Wigglesworth's house, I had "gone native." I was a real Britisher with a bowler hat, similar to the one you saw Charlie Chaplin wear in his early movies, a black jacket, striped trousers, and a dark blue raincoat that came just above my knees. I wore beautiful pointed black shoes and had an umbrella under one arm and a newspaper under the other. I carried my briefcase in one hand.
My Personal Time With Wigglesworth
They did not have electric doorbells, but I grabbed the knocker and hit the door with it, then stepped back three or four steps.
When Wigglesworth opened the door, I said, "Here I am, Brother Wigglesworth."
He did not respond, just glared at me, and said, "Hoots under your' m?"
That meant, in his British accent, "What is under your arm?"
I said, "I have an umbrella under this one and the morning paper under this one."
He said, "Throw it away. You can't come in here with it. I don't permit those lies into my house. Hitler and Mussolini will soon be in hell where they belong. In my house, there's only truth, and that paper's full of lies — so leave it outside."
Hastily thrusting the paper into the bushes beside the door, I said, "Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir!"
When I came back out, someone had taken it, so I lost my paper altogether that day.
He then looked me over and said, "Cm'n." We went into the living room where he had a coal fire on, and it was very cozy. I thought I had come to talk, but he read to me a half hour
from the Bible.
Then he said, "It's time to pray," and he prayed for another half hour. He laid hands on me and prayed, "God, bless him! God, bless him!" My body was becoming weary. I was glad when he got through!
Basically Smith Wigglesworth was a "Bible man," who enjoyed reading his Bible to visitors and equally enjoyed praying long prayers over the reading. So he read to me from the Bible for another half hour, then said, "Let's pray again."
Inwardly, I said, "Lord, what did I get into here? This man will wear anybody out."
Your body can become weary after hours of this, but it seemed to bring a tremendous refreshing to Wigglesworth.
Finally, he got up from his knees and began to tell beautiful stories of how God had healed this disease and that condition.
I sat there weeping, absolutely overwhelmed.
At noon, his daughter, Alice Salter, called us to lunch.
She had prepared Yorkshire pudding, roast beef with that delicious gravy the British put on it, and peas. We had a delightful time of fellowship.
When we got through, he put his napkin on the table and said, "Come back again."
Then he walked away. His daughter explained that he had gone to get some rest.
Before I had gone a block from his house, I said to myself, "You know, I got something there. I'm different. I got something. I received a blessing. I received an anointing.
Something good happened to me in that place. I'll come back again."
I received life in that house. Both father and daughter had life.
About ten days later, I went back. Oh, yes, I had on my little dark-blue raincoat, and I had my umbrella and my bowler hat — but I did not have a newspaper!
I continued to go to Wigglesworth's house about every ten days for two years. I continued to listen to him read the Word and pray, and I heard personally of the mighty miracles God had done for him around the world.
My faith began to mount up strong in the presence of this man. We became good friends. When he had a convention, he would ask me to speak also.
- Pioneers Of Faith
- Spiritual Notes
MY ENCOUNTER WITH SMITH WIGGLESWORTH - Dr Lester Sumrall
Dr. Howard Carter, with whom I traveled for many years and who sent people all over the world to minister, told me of Smith Wigglesworth. In my travels around the world, I heard other reports about Wigglesworth until I wanted to see him more than any other prominent minister of the day. There was an eagerness inside of me to hear and see Smith Wigglesworth.
After I had been with Carter through Australia, the Orient and all through Europe, we returned to England for a national conference. Carter was chairman of the conference which was held in Cardiff, Wales, and he asked me to speak in the evening because I was an evangelist. He had asked Smith Wigglesworth to speak in the afternoon because he was a teacher.
The first week I was in Great Britain, my dream came true. I was teamed up with the man I had wanted most to meet.
He did some teaching that afternoon and prayed for the sick.
We sat on the platform together and smiled at each other.
"I've surely heard a lot about you, Brother Wigglesworth," I told him.
And I was very pleased when he replied, "Yeah, and I've heard a lot about you. I've been reading your articles for two years. Man, some of those stories about casting out devils! I like that. And your trip up to Tibet and back — I'm just glad you're not afraid."
So we kind of made a friendship there.
Wigglesworth heard me preach that night. Now, remember, I was still a very young man, and not extremely experienced although I had been preaching since I was seventeen. I preached the best I could, and I did give a successful altar call. When I was through and turned around on the platform, there was Smith Wigglesworth looking at me.
He put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Son, you need to come see me."
In school, I had been called into the office, and I knew what it meant to face the principal and work on a problem. My first thought when Wigglesworth said I needed to see him was that I was being called to the principal's office.
I said, "Yes, sir, when can I come?"
He said, "Anytime. I live in Bradford. Here's my address and telephone number."
I said, "How often can I come? Do I need to let you know I am coming?"
He said, "You can come as often as you want to. These days I am home, so you don't have to let me know. Just knock on my front door, and I will open it. I'll always be glad to have you."
The next day, they had what we call "dinner on the grounds" in the southern United States. They had long, long tables loaded with good food. In the center was a roasted pig, which had been basted with oil and other good things as it was roasting. However, they made a big mistake — they asked Smith Wigglesworth to say grace. He walked over to that table, a big, healthy man, raised one hand to heaven, and said, "Almighty God, if you can now bless that which you have cursed, bless this foul pig to their bodies."
I looked around and thought, "Dear Lord, and we have visitors here!"
But those Welshmen tried to hide from him. They were the ones who had brought the pig and roasted it.
I went over to him and said, "Are you having a piece of pork today?"
He said, "I never touch the stinking stuff," so I had an introduction to the way he would say anything he thought ought to be said anytime and anywhere. He had no fear of man whatsoever.
Within a week after that conference I was on my way to Bradford. When I showed up at Wigglesworth's house, I had "gone native." I was a real Britisher with a bowler hat, similar to the one you saw Charlie Chaplin wear in his early movies, a black jacket, striped trousers, and a dark blue raincoat that came just above my knees. I wore beautiful pointed black shoes and had an umbrella under one arm and a newspaper under the other. I carried my briefcase in one hand.
My Personal Time With Wigglesworth
They did not have electric doorbells, but I grabbed the knocker and hit the door with it, then stepped back three or four steps.
When Wigglesworth opened the door, I said, "Here I am, Brother Wigglesworth."
He did not respond, just glared at me, and said, "Hoots under your' m?"
That meant, in his British accent, "What is under your arm?"
I said, "I have an umbrella under this one and the morning paper under this one."
He said, "Throw it away. You can't come in here with it. I don't permit those lies into my house. Hitler and Mussolini will soon be in hell where they belong. In my house, there's only truth, and that paper's full of lies — so leave it outside."
Hastily thrusting the paper into the bushes beside the door, I said, "Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir!"
When I came back out, someone had taken it, so I lost my paper altogether that day.
He then looked me over and said, "Cm'n." We went into the living room where he had a coal fire on, and it was very cozy. I thought I had come to talk, but he read to me a half hour
from the Bible.
Then he said, "It's time to pray," and he prayed for another half hour. He laid hands on me and prayed, "God, bless him! God, bless him!" My body was becoming weary. I was glad when he got through!
Basically Smith Wigglesworth was a "Bible man," who enjoyed reading his Bible to visitors and equally enjoyed praying long prayers over the reading. So he read to me from the Bible for another half hour, then said, "Let's pray again."
Inwardly, I said, "Lord, what did I get into here? This man will wear anybody out."
Your body can become weary after hours of this, but it seemed to bring a tremendous refreshing to Wigglesworth.
Finally, he got up from his knees and began to tell beautiful stories of how God had healed this disease and that condition.
I sat there weeping, absolutely overwhelmed.
At noon, his daughter, Alice Salter, called us to lunch.
She had prepared Yorkshire pudding, roast beef with that delicious gravy the British put on it, and peas. We had a delightful time of fellowship.
When we got through, he put his napkin on the table and said, "Come back again."
Then he walked away. His daughter explained that he had gone to get some rest.
Before I had gone a block from his house, I said to myself, "You know, I got something there. I'm different. I got something. I received a blessing. I received an anointing.
Something good happened to me in that place. I'll come back again."
I received life in that house. Both father and daughter had life.
About ten days later, I went back. Oh, yes, I had on my little dark-blue raincoat, and I had my umbrella and my bowler hat — but I did not have a newspaper!
I continued to go to Wigglesworth's house about every ten days for two years. I continued to listen to him read the Word and pray, and I heard personally of the mighty miracles God had done for him around the world.
My faith began to mount up strong in the presence of this man. We became good friends. When he had a convention, he would ask me to speak also.
- 📕 Pioneers Of Faith
- Spiritual Notes
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