W. B. Godbey - Enter His Rest

and give them a dead man, such as they want and of which I have more on my hands than I know what to do
with. I will send you where they want you, for our cabinet was crowded with calls for you and I labored hard
and got you for my district and sent you where you are most needed, but they have taken the responsibility into
their own hands and sent you away, so now they can abide their own destiny.” Then he simply exchanged me
and another man, sending him to my place and me to his.
When I arrived at my new destination, having no secrets, I frankly informed them of my recent history in
transportation, at the same time reminding them that I was ready for another free ride, but they said, “We will
not give you any free ride; you are the man we have been wanting and praying for, as we awfully need a
revival.” Then I went to work in the name of the Lord, who came and converted five hundred people, so
enlarging the circuit that we had to divide it in two, lest it be unwieldy, and it has been two ever since.
Of course the older people understand the charge of craziness which was brought against me. All the sanctified
people at that time were called “crazy,” and candidly, because they were so unlike other people that they
actually thought that they were crazy. That was long before the Holiness Movement crossed the Ohio River and
rolled its heavenly wave over the beautiful sunny South. The witnesses to sanctification then were so few and so
unlike other people that they thought they were crazy. God, in His great mercy, gave me grace to prove true or I
would have fallen and lost my experience, as that was a very severe test. Multitudes have fallen under tests of
that kind. To have the people believe you are crazy and haul you away, rejecting you as their preacher, is
certainly a very trying experience. God made it a great blessing to me, and enabled me to come through it
brighter and stronger than ever before.
Cape Girardeau, the city of seven thousand on the banks of the Mississippi River in Missouri, was the first place
I ever preached in that great state in 1883. When I arrived, responsive to the call of the Methodist pastor, I found
myself preaching to but a sprinkle of a congregation. This originated from the fact that the Methodists happened
to be very weak in that city, never having grown like other churches. At that time I was in the vigor of my
manhood and early in my sanctified experience, exceedingly athletic and demonstrative. After a few days the
pastor took me aside and read to me about two columns in one of the daily papers, written by the editor who had
taken it on himself to come to the meeting. He heard me preach and then wrote me up for his paper, describing
me in a most hideous way and literally flooding me with burlesque, caricature and ridicule, pronouncing me as
the most consummate buffoon he had ever seen, and assuring the people that the finest circus clown in the
nation had been unfortunately spoiled in order to make a preacher of your humble servant. Oh, how vividly and
ludicrously he described my pantomimic gesticulations; leaping like a kangaroo and howling like a wolf. He
never had before seen any person who professed sanctification, therefore, taking me as a sample, he withered
and dissected without distinction or mercy, drawing liberally and copiously on his imagination.
The pastor who was so anxious to have a revival and build up his church, feeling that it was a death-blow to
both of our hopes, shed unbidden tears while reading it. Then he said, “Brother Godbey, I'm going around to see
the people and straighten this up, telling them that I know you to be a man of good standing in the Kentucky
Conference and all this utterly without foundation.” I said to him, “Brother, are you not willing for me to have a
say-so in this, as I am the one concerned?” This question he answered gushingly in the affirmative. So said I,
“Please do not offer one word of apology, but let it alone, just as it is.” He was surprised that I was not willing
for him to defend me, and asked my reason. “Oh,” I said, “when Satan takes the open field against God
Almighty, I want you to keep hands off and give God a chance to whip him.” The truth of the matter was I knew
that writing was the very thing to give me a congregation, which was so indispensable to my usefulness, as the
best mechanic can never build a fine edifice without lumber, brick and mortar.
Within forty-eight hours, not only were the seats all filled and crowded in that large house, but twice as many
people were in it as could occupy the seats. They were literally crammed and jammed.
Wherever a foot could get room, there it was on the floor, every aisle, nook and corner being packed and the
multitude actually inundating the house till many had to go away or stay out, and it was mid-winter and very
cold. I knew that ludicrous sarcasm, burlesque, wit and ridicule indulged in by the editor was the very thing to
attract the people and give me an audience. It had worked literally to a charm. Then God gave me race to take
Mt. Sinai into the pulpit and say to Him, “Now, in mercy, furnish the thunderbolts, lightning shafts and