A Voice In The Wilderness

By Rev. loran w. helm

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Chapters:

  1.  Why Don't Men Obey God?
  2.  My Father
  3.  Narrow Escapes From Death
  4.  My Mother
  5.  My Father's Conversion
  6.  God First Speaks
  7.  Tithing Opens The Way
  8.  Childlike Faith
  9.  A Child's Prayer
10.  Parental Discipline
11.  Conversion
12.  First Obedience
13.  Jesus Reveals My Companion
14.  Sanctification
15.  Our First Pastorate
16.  "Come With Me, Son..."
17.  "...And Perfect Will Of God"
18.  Ordination
19.  Baptized With The Holy Spirit
20.  The Calling
21.  Spiritual Burdens
22.  Leaving All
23.  Waiting On God
24.  Home Built By Faith
25.  Warning From A Watchman
26.  The Beginning



    

          16 "COME WITH ME, SON ..."


        
             In   April,  1938,  we  were  transferred  from  Redkey   to 
        Whitewater.   After one year had elapsed, out of  Asbury  College 
        came Rev. Homer Pumphrey, who had been in school with the son  of 
        my  District Elder, Phillip Brooks Smith.  Rev. Smith was one  of 
        the  great preachers in the state of Indiana, and gifted of  God.  
        He  preached Jesus and Him crucified.  Rev. Pumphrey requested  a 
        pastorate; so Rev. Smith sent him to Redkey Circuit.
        
             When  Rev. Pumphrey arrived, he heard of our walk  with  God 
        and  remarked, "I want to know that pilgrim of Jesus."  In  1939, 
        at  New Castle, Indiana, I was privileged to meet Homer  for  the 
        first  time.   He  said, "I want you to pray that  I  will  be  a 
        sanctified man and everything that God wants me to be."
        
             When  I  returned to Whitewater parsonage I  told  my  wife, 
        "Never  in my life has a preacher told me this!"   How  delighted 
        and surprised I was to hear of someone who desired to be all that 
        God wanted him to be.  I have met few who really wanted to go all 
        out for Jesus.
        
             At that time I had begun the completion of my  undergraduate 
        studies  in Earlham College, and God was continuing to work  with 
        me.  I was trusting Him the best I knew how and was trying to  do 
        all  that  He wanted me to do.  In the little  churches  we  were 
        serving,  people were being saved, bodies were being healed,  and 
        faithful hearts were coming forward to be inwardly cleansed;  but 
        within me I knew that God was not calling me to the pastorate.
        
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After  a  day of classroom study, I would say  to  my  wife, 
        "Honey,  I  am not in the right stall.  When I was a boy  on  the 
        farm, all of my cows had their own stalls.  God is calling me  to 
        something.   I  am  not  in the right place  yet."   I  was  very 
        thankful  for  what  Jesus was  accomplishing,  but  this  strong 
        impression never left me:  "God is calling me to something--it is 
        out there ahead of me somewhere."
        
             By this time we had three little girls.  Joyce Lee was  born 
        in  January of 1936, our second year at Taylor  University.   The 
        twin girls arrived May 24, 1939.  Eight-and-a-half months  before 
        they were born, Jesus revealed to me that He was giving us twins.  
        Coming  home I told Florence, "Oh, Honey, Jesus just revealed  to 
        me that He is giving us twins!"
        
             I shall never forget my wife's reaction when I informed her.  
        Both  of  her hands came up to her bosom in a way she  had  never 
        done  before,  nor  has she done since, and she  said,  "Oh,  no! 
        Surely not me!"
        
             When  I told people what Jesus had revealed, I can't  recall 
        that  even one person believed me.  However, they  believed  when 
        Florence  gave birth to identical twins  eight-and-a-half  months 
        after  the  revelation.  Nancy weighed  five-and-half  pounds  at 
        birth and Martha weighed five pounds.  Each had lost a pound when 
        we  brought them home from the hospital.  They were so very  tiny 
        and most precious.
        
             At the annual conference meeting in 1941, my District  Elder 
        told  me  where  he thought I was to be  assigned.   This  charge 
        included  two churches, with a parsonage which had a new  furnace 
        and  new floors.  He also asked me to be praying  about  Shideler 
        Circuit, a charge with three congregations.  The parsonage  there 
        had  neither a furnace nor a bathroom, and one had to go  outside 
        to pump the water.
        
             I  said nothing; but while he was discussing with others  at 
        the conference where I should be sent, I returned to the home  of 
        the  Swansons where my wife and I were being  entertained  during 
        our stay.  Florence was not well in those days.  If you knew  all 
        she had passed through in these thirty-
        
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some years, you would agree that it has been only by God's  grace 
        that we have made it this far.  It will be only by His mercy that 
        we can make it tomorrow.
        
             Coming  into  our room I said, "Honey, I am  going  to  pray 
        about  these  pastorates."  On my knees I asked, "Jesus,  do  you 
        want  us  to go to the pastorate where there  is  this  wonderful 
        opportunity?"  --And it was as black as midnight.  I then  asked, 
        "Lord  Jesus, do you want us to go to Shideler Circuit?"  When  I 
        prayed  about this pastorate, I saw a ball of fire a few  hundred 
        feet  above me to the right.  With a great delight  I  announced, 
        "Oh, Honey!  God is sending us to Shideler!"
        
             Three  days  later the District Elder sent  us  to  Shideler 
        Circuit,  the  place  God  had  already  shown  me.   In  earthly 
        estimation it was the least desirable pastorate among many scores 
        of  churches, but when we arrived there in May of 1941, I was  so 
        happy.   Unless God would reveal it, no one could ever  know  how 
        thrilled I was to be there, because this was the place Jesus  had 
        chosen for us.
        
             Though  the parsonage had no indoor bathroom facilities  and 
        we  had  to  pump our own water, at times I would  stand  on  the 
        parsonage lawn with such happiness in my soul that I could  never 
        express  it adequately to anyone.  I would tell people, "I am  as 
        happy here as if I were in the White House in Washington."  I was 
        thrilled because God had brought us here!  We were at the  bottom 
        but  I felt like we were at the top.  We scarcely  had  anything, 
        yet  I felt as if we had much.  Now that requires Jesus,  doesn't 
        it?   If  He  can trust us to be  delighted  with  nothing,  then 
        perhaps He can trust us someday with something.
        
             God  told  me  how  to make  the  three  churches  like  one 
        congregation.   During  our period of service,  there  were  some 
        ninety  victories,  and  the three churches began  to  be  joined 
        together  in  an unusual love.  God worked through  them  to  put 
        storm windows on the parsonage, drill a new well, install a pump, 
        and  provide running water.  He gave me a group of men who  could 
        sing for the glory of God.  When we first
        
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began they said, "Why, we are just farmers, meat cutters, factory 
        workers.   We can't sing."  But when we would get together,  with 
        my wife at the piano, the Lord would help us.
        
             Having completed my undergraduate degree, my District  Elder 
        thought  that  I should pursue advanced training  in  theological 
        studies.  I was sent to a school near Chicago.  On Monday I would 
        leave  my wife and family, journey to the seminary for four  days 
        of classes, then return home to conduct Sunday services.
        
             As I walked among these beautiful academic buildings,  often 
        God would deal with me, and I would ask, "God of Abraham--God  of 
        Elijah--did you call me to this place?  Is this Thy will for me?"  
        And  I received little consolation.  I wasn't at home  there.   I 
        had  been going along with man a long while, doing what  my  dear 
        ones wanted me to do:  my father, mother, District Elder, pastor, 
        ministerial  brothers, Christian friends.  I had been  trying  to 
        serve God the best I knew and still please the ones I loved.
        
             When  I  returned the second week to this  place  of  higher 
        education, God continued to deal with me.  I was so moved upon by 
        the Spirit that all I could do was talk to Jesus about it.  I was 
        uncertain what all God was trying to tell me, but He was  working 
        and moving within my soul.
        
             On  arrival the third week, I paid my week's portion of  the 
        board for the little suite of rooms where I lived with two  other 
        young  ministers, and sat down to write a theme on "Ten things  I 
        believe  about  the  Bible"  for my Bible  class.   I  was  in  a 
        quandary,  for  I knew that my Bible professor and a  few  others 
        there  did not believe the Bible to be the inspired Word of  God.  
        When someone asked the professor how she could give the Apostle's 
        Creed  believing  as she did, she replied, "I give the  Apostle's 
        Creed through respect for our forefathers."
        
             I believe the Bible as it is.  If I did not, the Holy  Ghost 
        couldn't work through me.  The Bible is an account of God dealing 
        with men, walking with men, working with men.  It
        
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has  been given by the Holy Spirit.  Many scholars seek  to  find 
        discrepancies  in it.  I try only to look for God's will  in  it, 
        for the Bible is God's Book.
        
             As I was seated there trying to write, I lifted my head  and 
        silently  cried out, "Oh, God!"  The moment my heart  cried  out, 
        God began to show me things I had never seen before.
        
             I  saw  the earth.  It appeared as if an  awful  storm  were 
        about  it, the kind of storm I once viewed as a young  boy,  when 
        the  clouds would sweep in from the west during March and  April.  
        I saw the earth covered with thick darkness and engrossed in deep 
        sin.  Oh, it was so dark!  Sin is far worse than we think.  It is 
        much,  much worse than you and I can comprehend.  I saw that  the 
        ugliness  of  sin had covered the earth; it had invaded  men  and 
        women,  boys and girls.  This wicked Sin Principle was  terrible.  
        It was monstrous.
        
             I  cried  out "Oh, Jesus!  Where is the  light?   Oh,  God-- 
        where art thou?"
        
             I  looked up, and there was a light.  God was in  the  light 
        and He said,  "COME WITH ME, SON..." 
        
             When  God  called me to go with Him, and with Him  alone,  I 
        said  good-bye to my father, my mother, my elders,  my  friends--
        everyone!   In my heart I said, "Good-bye, things of this  world.  
        I am going with God!"
        
             My friend, the instant I forsook everything of the earth  to 
        walk alone with Jesus, I entered into a land that was darker than 
        midnight,  even  the blackest of midnight.  It  was  a  spiritual 
        experience  which words could never convey, yet as real  as  this 
        book  in your hand.  God has revealed to me in these  intervening 
        years that seldom have men ever gone this lonely path to walk  in 
        absolute dependence upon Jesus.
        
             Most  mortals will never have this experience,  because  God 
        called  me into this world for a specific purpose.  No one  needs 
        to  pattern his life after this experience, for I was  called  by 
        God  and  ordained by the Holy Ghost for a specific work  in  the 
        Kingdom of God.  I do not belong to myself, or to any
        
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certain  group:   I  belong  wholly to God.   By  His  grace  and 
        protection,  I  must do what He wills, nothing more  and  nothing 
        less.
        
             God  was  calling  me  to this  land  seldom  trod  by  men.  
        Suddenly  a demon voice above me clamored, "Your life is  ruined!  
        There is no hope for you!  Take one step along this path and  you 
        will fall a thousand feet to the rocks beneath you!"
        
             I said, "I am trusting Jesus."
        
             I heard another evil voice above me, "What are you going  to 
        do?  You have blighted the hopes and anticipations of your mother 
        and  father.   They  have  spent thousands  of  dollars  on  your 
        education.  They have sacrificed and worked to help you all these 
        years.   Now you have destroyed their hopes.  What are you  going 
        to do with them?  How will you explain this to them?"
        
             I answered again, "I am trusting Jesus."
        
             A  third  evil voice demanded, "What will you do  with  your 
        lovely wife and three children?  How will you support them?   You 
        have no place to go.  There is no way to go."
        
             My  reply was, "I am trusting Jesus."  That is all  I  said:  
        "I am trusting Jesus."
             
             To  me it is a marvelous thing that  a  twenty-five-year-old 
        boy who had walked with God only a little while would reply "I am 
        trusting Jesus" in the face of such great accusation.  It had  to 
        be  God  helping, I know.  Of course, that was His call  upon  my 
        life--to trust Him.
        
             I  wasn't aware then that very few people in  the  professed 
        church knew much about trust.  I have since discovered that  only 
        a handful are really trusting God in their everyday lives.   Most 
        people  in  the  church are arranging their  own  lives  to  some 
        extent.  I wouldn't be surprised that well over ninety percent of 
        all professed church people are working out their lives by  their 
        own reasoning and according to that which appears expedient.
        
             But trust begins when we look, not to our own
        
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understanding,  but  first  to God for His  leading  through  the 
        witness of the Holy Spirit.  It continues as we simply follow His 
        guidance  no  matter what obstacles or trials seem to  block  the 
        way.   Trusting God is so simple a child can do it; but very  few 
        in all the ages have been willing to consistently apply it.
        
             I wasn't aware then that most of us mortals were so far from 
        God's  will.  I only knew that my call was to trust God and  obey 
        Him.  I was just to walk with Jesus, follow His direction without 
        question, and let Him work out all the situations.
        
             As the Lord was calling me to trust Him, the powers of earth 
        and  hell were raging against me.  It was a ferocious  battle  of 
        the  soul, though I was still seated at the desk  in  the  little 
        apartment.   My  minister friends were unaware  of  the  struggle 
        taking place within me.
        
             When  I  entered  this land of Absolute Trust,  I  found  it 
        densely choked and snarled with battles and trials.  I saw that I 
        couldn't   take  a  step  without  wielding  a  sharp  blade   of 
        determination to mind God and rely on Jesus.  I had to hew a path 
        through  huge oaks of difficulty that no one would  dream  about.  
        All  these obstacles had to be cleared out of the way,  and  only 
        God could do it.
            
             There  is  no way of communicating what this land  is  like.  
        Until one has walked in absolute faith--trusting and obeying only 
        God  and letting God have His way entirely--it is  impossible  to 
        understand  this  experience.  But those who have  been  trusting 
        only Jesus through the years have learned that it is a  pressing, 
        that  it  is a rejoicing.  It is not looking to  the  church,  to 
        religious leaders, or to anyone else, but it is looking to Jesus.
        
             Through  the ages, all men who have obeyed God's call to  do  
        only  His will and have not tried to work out ideas  and  answers 
        with  their own skills, have found themselves in this lonely  and 
        wonderful  land.  True life is found here, for it is the  Kingdom 
        of God on earth, where God's will alone is not
        
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only  sought, but, by God's grace, fulfilled.  Since all of  hell 
        is against anyone reaching God's perfect will, the path to it  is 
        strewn with enormous difficulties and obstacles.
        
             For  this reason, whenever God sends a true servant  to  any 
        congregation,  that  people  will  begin  to  experience  unusual 
        struggles  and upheavals.  Whenever God is truly  endeavoring  to 
        accomplish  His  will,  Satan will be there  trying  to  stir  up 
        strife, create misunderstandings, and cause jealousies among  the 
        people.  Few laymen are prepared for the battles which they  will 
        encounter  once God sends a true servant their way.  The  average 
        church  person believes that the program of the church is  to  be 
        handled  like  any other business, and should proceed  along  the 
        path of least conflicts and most beneficial results.
        
             Quite to the contrary, any time a church works out a program 
        or  a  religious plan in themselves, it is not pleasing  to  God.  
        This  is not a popular statement to declare, but I must give  the 
        truth in love or be held responsible at Judgment.  I know that we 
        dare  not devise our own church systems and programs because  our 
        ideas, at their very best, can only come from our human minds and 
        insights.  They originate from the wisdom of the earth and cannot 
        satisfy  heavenly  requirements, for God's Word  plainly  states:  
        "...they  that are in the flesh  cannot  please  God." 
        
             I  am not seeking to find fault with any church,  but  Jesus 
        has  revealed to me that unless our singing, our  preaching,  our 
        Sunday  schools, Bible schools, and revivals are led by the  Holy 
        Spirit,  the fruit of these activities will not  survive.   Jesus 
        tells us that "Every plant, which my heavenly Father hath not
        planted, shall be rooted up. This strongly indicates to me that
        the Holy Spirit must not only lead, but must be the Author of all
        that I do. He must be the One to plan my life; He must originate 
        my programs or I will be living a life which is powerless and 
        ineffectual. It is as I am submissive, broken, waiting on God, and
        loving        
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everybody,  that Jesus is able to lead me into a life  of  divine 
        vigor and eternal glory.
        
             Following  this  tremendous spiritual  struggle,  I  finally 
        related  back to the physical world around me.  My  decision  was 
        clear.   "I  am  going home,"  I  told  the  ministerial  student 
        opposite me.
        
             He  looked at me surprised.  "What's the matter?" he  asked.  
        "Can't you stick it out for at least one semester?"  He thought I 
        was  simply giving up.  He had no idea what God had been  telling 
        me  for  weeks and weeks, or what all I had been through  in  the 
        past few minutes.
        
             I  answered,  "I  am going home."   My  friend  didn't  know 
        whether  I meant "go home" for a day, two weeks, or to stay.   He 
        continued to persuade me to stick it out, but I had to tell  him, 
        "I must purchase a train ticket and return home tonight."  I  had 
        been away from home only since morning.  It was then around eight 
        or nine o'clock in the evening.
        
             After  packing my bags I was taken to the train  station  in 
        downtown Chicago by two of my roommates.  I paid them fifty cents 
        for  gas  and had enough money to purchase a  one-way  ticket  to 
        Hartford City.  At eleven-ten I boarded the train.
        
             Satan  was  fighting furiously.  "It is all  over  now,"  he 
        raged.  "You have ruined everything."
        
             I  replied, "I am trusting Jesus."  Satan continued to  hurl 
        accusing thoughts at me to make me feel dishonest, guilty, and in 
        error.  I repeatedly answered, "I am trusting Jesus."  Until  you 
        determine with all your heart to leave everything of earth to  go 
        with  God,  there  is no way to describe to you the depth  of  my 
        soul's  struggle during this time.  Yet, I was happy.  I  had  no 
        idea what the future held, but in my heart I was at peace. 
        
             The train moved very slowly, stopping at nearly every little 
        village.  A few seats behind me sat a drunk man.  For four  hours 
        that  train stopped and started, stopped and started.   I  simply 
        looked to Jesus for strength and courage.
        
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The devil repeatedly brought to mind, "There will be no  way 
        for  you to get home from Hartford City.  You don't  know  anyone 
        there.  Your wife and children live ten miles away.  They have no 
        phone.   The bus doesn't leave Hartford City for  Shideler  until 
        five  or  five-thirty.  It is raining.  You will get  wet,  catch 
        pneumonia, and die.  You almost did," he whispered to me.  "Don't 
        you remember?"
        
             "Yes,"   I  thought to myself, "I almost did."   Dr.  Kramer 
        told  me that when I was a very little boy I contracted  a  swift 
        pneumonia so severe that my parents could hear me gasping for  my 
        breath from the living room all the way to the pump house outside 
        the  kitchen.  He informed the men at the store, "The  Helm  baby 
        will be gone by morning."
        
             I am told that I had to fight for every breath.  It was  New 
        Year's  Eve, and Mother and Grandmother sat beside my  crib,  not 
        daring  to  say a word to one another, both  fearing  the  worst.  
        Mother related much later, "I didn't think you were going to make 
        it through the night."  It was only by the mercies of Jesus  that 
        I  was raised up.  Satan was attacking my mind severely with  the 
        fear:  "You will get wet, catch pneumonia, and die."
        
             The  Hartford City depot was dark that October morning  when 
        the train pulled in at three-thirty.  My situation did not appear 
        good,  for I was ten miles from home and no one knew that  I  was 
        returning.   The  main highway was closed as well, for  they  had 
        been re-working the entire road.
        
             When  the train jerked to a stop.  I picked up my  bags  and 
        walked  to  the coach steps.  It was very dark, but I  noticed  a 
        tiny light ninety feet or so to my left.  As I looked down,  this 
        light reflected from some object at the bottom of the steps.  Out 
        of the darkness, a man's voice unexpectedly asked, "Did you  want 
        to go some place, Sir?"
        
             "Yes, Sir!"  I exclaimed.  "I want to go home!"
        
             "My  car is at the curb," he said.  "Sometimes I  meet  this 
        early morning train."
        
             Praise God!  As I looked closely, I could see an old gentle-
        
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man  standing  at  the  bottom of  the  train  steps,  the  light 
        reflecting from the shiny black bill of his cap.  Oh! Was I  ever 
        glad  to see him!  My heart was filled with such praise to  Jesus 
        that I didn't know how to express it!
        
             What if this elderly gentleman had not been there?  Dwell on 
        that  for  a moment.  He did not always meet this  early  morning 
        train.   Since  no one was there to help me, I  would  have  been 
        obliged  to walk uptown carrying two heavy suitcases.   With  the 
        sensitivity  in my body to sickness in damp weather,  unless  God 
        protected  me,  I would easily have become seriously  ill.   But, 
        praise God, this gentleman was there to meet me!
        
             God  has  had  somebody  to meet  me  every  morning  since, 
        spiritually  speaking.   When  I have needed help,  He  has  sent 
        someone to assist.  When I have been in need, without fail He has 
        always provided.  Bless the Lord!
        
             For  two dollars this kind gentleman drove me the  ten miles 
        south to the village of Shideler.  Thanking him, I lifted my  two 
        suitcases  to  the porch and gave my special knock on  the  front 
        door.  My wife and I had arranged this secret code so we wouldn't 
        frighten or alarm one another.
        
             Never  scare anyone.  Never try to frighten your wife,  your 
        mother or father, a sister or brother.  Never try to play a trick 
        on  people,  because  this grieves the Holy  Spirit.   Often  our 
        little pranks backfire, causing hurt and damage.
        
             Many folks, in the carnal, play tricks and pranks,  thinking 
        they  are going to have a good time.  In contrast,  Spirit-filled 
        men  are  taught  to be very cautious and  careful,  because  the 
        sweetness of Jesus doesn't work in the mold of cleverness and the 
        way  of  the  smart-aleck.   The  sweetness  of  Jesus  works  in 
        gentleness,   humbleness,  tenderness,  and  thoughtfulness   for 
        others.
        
             My  precious  wife was sound asleep.  I can  still  see  her 
        coming  through  the house.  The porch light was always  left  on 
        when  I was away from home, and I could see her wiping the  sleep 
        from her eyes as she tried to bring her
        
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thoughts awake.  She unlatched the old-fashioned lock, opened the 
        door  and looked up at me, her face all one big question.   "What 
        is the matter?" she asked.
        
             I replied:  "Honey--I have come home to go with God!"
        
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