The Revival That Died
1
The Stranger

He rode into town on a dusty, long legged horse. It wasn't that the horse was old and broken down, it had just seen a lot of trail since the morning. In fact, the man sitting on its back looked like he'd seen a lot of trail too. There was a fine layer of dust covering everything, the man, the horse, and the pack horse too.

"Where ya from?" people asked, being curious about the stranger, "and where ya going?"

Now, don't think those people were nosy, they were just curious. Many a stranger came through their town, but none of them raised more than an occasional eyebrow from the people who lived there. But this one, there was something different about him. Somehow, they knew he rode with a greater purpose than most. He wasn't just lazing down the road, looking for a job, or even just a meal. There was something on the stranger's mind.

The stranger nodded to the people, giving them a friendly smile, and a gaze that seemed to look right through them. It was as if he could read their hearts, just by peering into their eyes. Why, it was almost spooky the way he looked at you. Except, well except, there was a lot of love in that look. Almost like he understood the sins they had hidden in their hearts. He seemed to understand it, and even accept them, without a word being spoken.

Down the street, I saw the Jenkins' boy direct him to the boarding house. That wasn't unusual in itself, after all, where else would a stranger spend the night? But when young Pete Jenkins turned away from the stranger, his face had a peace on it that went totally against his pushy, aggressive nature.

That in itself was enough to create quite a stir. Pete was known all around for being a trouble maker. His papa had died when he was young, and he blamed God for it. Nobody around could make him see it was an outlaw that killed his pa. As far as he was concerned, it was God's fault. That's why he had such a hard heart. If God could take his daddy from him, what more would God try and destroy in his life? At least, that's the way Pete looked at it.

That night, the saloon was a-buzzin. Everyone was wondering about the new stranger that had arrived late that afternoon. Nobody knew anything worth tellin' though.

Every detail about how he looked was picked apart, but that still didn't give much of a clue. He didn't look like a cowhand, more like a carpet bagger. You know, one of them salesmen who go from place to place. Only, he didn't have a wagon full of goods with him, nor did he arrive by the stage, like most of them did.

The suit he wore had once been a good one. You could even tell that with all the dust on it. Obviously he wasn't rich, but there seemed to be a sense of contentment with him, as if all his needs were met. Strange...we'd never seen a man like this before.

Next morning, people got up just like usual and went about their business. The stranger was out on the street, greeting those he met, and lookin' around. Kind of like he was sizing the place up.

Last time somebody looked our town over like that, the bank was held up. I remember the boys who done it. Two of them came into town and checked things out. They was smart too. You'd of thought they were scouts for an army the way they looked it over. Checking out where people were, what they did, how far it was from the bank to the edge of town, real careful couple of boys those were.

Come to think of it, this stranger seemed to look over the town just like a military commandeer would too. Lookin' back at it, I know he had a different sort of army in mind though.

When he reached the end of the street where I was sittin' I could see he had something under his arm. I looked a little closer, trying to tell what it was. Of course, I didn't want him to know I was curious, so I had to look real careful like, but I walked over close to where he was, just to see.

You know what? That stranger was carrying a Bible under his arm. He wasn't there to rob the bank. No, he definitely had higher ideas than that. The army he was scouting for was one from heaven, not one from earth. Somehow, God had sent this man, this preacher into our town to change things. You know...seeing how he'd affected young Pete Jenkins when he arrived, I think God might have picked the right man to send in.

We didn't have much of a church in town then. At least, not one that you could count on anyway. Every Sunday, you'd see most of the town traipsing into what they called church. Rain or shine, they'd all be there...religiously. In fact, that's exactly what it was, religion. Nothing of God, just man's imitation of God. The parson would preach, we'd all sing a few hymns, and then we'd go home. It was really, well, kind of dead actually. We called it church, but I seriously doubt that God did.

Of course, there was a bunch of us who would get together Friday night at the Williams' place to pray. They had the biggest house in town, and it just seemed like the easiest place to meet. We'd all gotten tired of just seeing church as usual, and wanted to see God really move. You know what I mean, like those things in the book of Acts.

Well, we weren't sure what was going to happen, but we were sure praying for it to happen. Whatever God did had to be better than what was going on then. So, we prayed, and prayed, and prayed, and God sent the stranger.

Next couple of days didn't seem much different. By then, the preacher had been around long enough that people'd gotten used to him. He hadn't seemed to do much yet, just walk around checkin' things out, talkin' to a few folks. Actually, he didn't really talk to them, he asked them questions. We really didn't know much more about him then we did when he rode into town. But, there was something brewing under the surface, and you could just bet that he had something to do with it.

I heard a rumor that the new preacher had a meetin' with our parson. Don't know about that though, because nobody knew anything about it, just the rumor that they'd met. Couldn't have been much to it though, cause you never saw them together.

Come Friday, we were all at the Williams' place again, gettin' ready to pray. Old Ben Williams would usually call us to order, and go round the room asking everyone for their prayer requests. One of his children would write them on a slate, so as everyone in the room could see what to pray for.

When my turn came, I asked the group to pray for the stranger. That started a whole new discussion. Everyone had to tell what they knew about him. Actually, there wasn't much to tell, just people talkin' about the questions he'd asked.

Well, that finally settled down, and we got to praying. Just then there was a knock on the door. We all stopped and looked. Everyone was there, who could be calling at this hour?

Ben opened the door, and there he was. The stranger we'd all been talking about was standing at the door, hat in hand. "Howdy, y'all" he started, "I'm David Michaels. Heard you're having a prayer meetin' and wanted to see if I could join you. I know you didn't invite me, but if you're here in Jesus' name, then that's good enough for me."

We all sat there dumbfounded. How did he know where to find us? After about a minute, Ben's wife, that's Clarissa, got up and welcomed him. She found him a seat by the window, and we all got ready to pray.

I'll tell you what. I've never seen prayer like that. Now, I must admit, we weren't the best group of prayers around, but we did what we could. That preacher Michaels, on the other hand, he could pray! As soon as he started, you could just sense that he had God's undivided attention. It was just like he walked in to God's throne room, pulled up a chair, and started talking to God. Nobody else there, just the two of them, and they were talking about God's plans, and what He said in His word. It was really something.

But that wasn't all. Next thing you know, after he'd prayed for 30 minutes or so, he started praying in some foreign language. Now, I'm no expert, but I'd never heard any language like that. You know, he didn't talk or act like a foreigner neither. Don't know where he picked that up, but he went on and on and on in it, just like he'd been speaking that other language since he was a child.

When he got done praying, we all knew that God had been in our presence. Somehow, this strange man's prayer had touched God in a way that we'd never experienced before. Whatever it was, however he did it, we wanted some of that.

Before any of us could ask, he started talking. He had a soft voice, but it was full of authority. It was like, like, like God speaking in our midst. "The Lord wants to do something in this town" he started, "and He's fixin' to answer your prayers. Although, the answer you get may not be the answer you expect. God has directed me to start holding meetings in this town. We'll be at the school house every night after dinner, starting on Monday. I know you're all busy, and you've got other things to do, but this is important, I'd like you to be there. We'll see if God can bring revival to this town."

With that he left. No further explanation, no other talk about anything. Just left us looking after him, and wondering what it was all about. What was revival anyway? Did God really speak to him? A million questions went through our minds. But we knew one thing, we'd have to be there Monday night and see what happened.

All weekend long the town was a-buzzin' with word of the stranger and his meetings. Everywhere you looked, there were printed notices, telling of the signs and wonders that God would do. Personally, I thought that was a little bold of David Michaels, even if God did speak with him. How could he say that God would be doing such and such a thing at such and such a time?

On Sunday, we went to the little white church as usual. Our parson took the time to speak out against this new preacher. He even had one of those printed notices in his hand, and mocked it, warning us about false doctrine, and the antichrist. Well, you can imagine, all that did was get our curiosity up even more.

It's funny though. Usually the parson was such a serious man, taking time to explain what the Bible said in a clear, scholarly way. This time, he didn't even open his Bible. All he did was rant and rave about false prophets, and the dangers to our souls. He sure was worked up about something, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it was. After all, he hadn't even been there to hear David pray, how could he know anything about the man?

I'd never seen the parson get that worked up about anything. In fact, we all joked that his sermons could even put him to sleep. What was it about this new preacher that could cause him to get so excited...and mad too?