W. B. Godbey - Enter His Rest

own game; because the counterfeit of anything is a proof of the genuine, as it is impossible to counterfeit
nonentity.
The Lord was continually giving us a great revival. All of the churches in the beautiful little city of Hillsboro,
county-seat of Hill County, in the midst of the great, black, rich prairie land five hundred miles long and one
hundred and fifty miles wide, of which the Methodist was the strongest numerically and influentially, had
entered into a union against sanctification, determined to keep it out. But the bright young pastor of the
Methodist Church was so filled with curiosity that he came away twenty-five miles to our meeting to see for
himself. Lightning was in the air, therefore on arrival he soliloquized, “Surely God is in this place.” Conviction
settled on him so that he became a seeker of sanctification and, in due time, triumphantly entered Beulah Land.
When he received the experience, he said to me, “Brother Godbey, I cannot go back to my work alone, the
opposition there is so awful, you must go with me.” Such was his importunity that I postponed my engagements
and went along; himself having preceded our arrival by a few days, giving publicity to the impending protracted
meeting. Therefore on arrival we found a congregation assembled in the Methodist Church awaiting us. The
ruling spirits of the church were so enraged when they heard that a holiness meeting had already opened that
they proceeded at once to assemble the official board in order to turn us out and lock the doors against us.
Therefore the first day, after I had gone from the morning meeting, when I crossed the square to dine, the young
pastor came to me weeping, and notifying me that the official board had met and were then preparing to close us
out of the house. I said to him, “Brother Fields, I am an old presiding elder and know the law on this subject.
You go and tell them that Brother Godbey has no meeting here, but it is yours, and he is merely an humble
helper. The law gives the pastor the control of the house during his time appointed by the Conference.
Therefore, say to them, If you close this house, you shut out your own pastor, and I will bring charges against
you at the next Annual Conference. Then they at once conceived the idea of telegraphing the presiding elder,
who was a notorious holiness fighter.
In the providence of God, I had just received the first shipment of my “Christian perfection,” sent from the
publishing house to me at Hillsboro. On arrival, I had opened the box and mailed a number of them to my
friends, and among them had sent one to Brother Stockton, presiding elder of the district in which I was
preaching. On reception of the book he began to read it, and found it so full of dynamite that he had to quit
reading and go to praying for sanctification. So he and his wife were on their knees in their home praying for
sanctification when the telegram reached them. Responsive to the call, he at once arose, boarded the train and
finished reading the book as he ran along.
When he arrived at eleven o'clock, our morning meeting had just reached the altar service. I had made the call
and the people were rushing to the altar from all directions. When I saw the familiar face of the presiding elder
enter the door, I read his countenance like a book, and saw that God had complete possession of him. He came
trotting down the aisle and fell at the altar. We all went to God in prayer; about half an hour had elapsed when
He turned on us a heavenly landslide. Meanwhile quite a number tided over Jordan into Beulah Land, with loud
shouts of victory, and among them the presiding elder. Rest assured we had a hallelujah time.
Three o'clock was the hour appointed by the board to hold their session, in view of closing the meeting. When
the time was at hand, the presiding elder and pastor, arm in arm, both fresh and bright in the Beulah Land
experience, crossed the square with shouts of praise ringing from their lips.
When they entered the office room, the presiding elder saluted them in Christian affection and notified them,
“Brethren, you have sent for the wrong man if you want that holiness meeting closed.
By the grace of God I am one of them and for running that meeting right along, till Gabriel blows his trumpet.”
So they found themselves utterly defeated, as both the pastor and the presiding elder had entered the experience
which they had combined to fight out of the church. Then the revival moved on without obstruction, as there
was no chance to stop it.
But the Presbyterian pastor, Brother Jacobs, started a competitive meeting in his church, which the disaffected
Methodists and other anti-holiness people attended. Among his great sermons against sanctification, he preached
one about Job, which he and the people who heard him regarded as absolutely unanswerable. In view of its