In the little country village in Arkansas where I was brought up, we had an old-fashioned home where there was family worship every night before we went to bed. My earliest remembrance is of my father taking the Bible, reading a portion of God’s Word, and then all of us going down on our knees and praying.

My father was a preacher in a local church. I loved my father and thought he was the greatest man on earth. One Sunday morning when the pastor was away, my father was at the pulpit. I sat in what they called the “Amen Corner,” and while he was preaching, I began to pray silently. I was just a young child, but as I lifted my heart toward God, the Lord opened the heavens and poured a great stream of love through my soul. He saved me! I buried my head in my hands and sobbed and sobbed; it was so wonderful! Sadly, we were not taught a great deal about how to keep in touch with Jesus. I saw that church drift toward the world, and in time so did I.

Later, while my husband was pastor of a little church in northern Washington, I began to realize my spiritual condition. I saw that conducting young peoples’ services and missionary meetings did not fulfill my obligations to God. I shall never forget the load of conviction that rested upon my heart over a number of years. I wanted reality in my soul. I wanted to serve God with all my heart, but did not know how to find victory. Even though I was a minister’s wife, my condition was like those Paul described: “They have a zeal of God, but not according to knowledge” (Romans 10:2).

One day, alone in that little Methodist parsonage, I opened my Bible and the first words my eyes fell upon were: “The LORD, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple” (Malachi 3:1). Just those few words from the Word of God inspired my faith and I took hold of the promises. I cried for mercy. As a sinner, I confessed my sins and gave God my life. He heard that prayer, rolled the burden from my heart, and set me free. I sprang to my feet and said, “Oh, I know my Redeemer lives; I know my name is written down in the Lamb’s Book of Life!” I was a new creature in Christ Jesus; old things passed away, and all things became new.

Since I had read John Wesley’s teachings about sanctification, I knew of it from a doctrinal standpoint. I began to seek for that experience. About three weeks later, I consecrated my life deeper to God than I had ever done before. I said yes to the whole will of God, and one night in the wee hours of the morning as I was praying and consecrating my life, God wonderfully sanctified me. That has been a real landmark in my life. I have never doubted that wonderful experience. It has held me steady when I have met false teachers and false doctrine.

I searched here and there trying to find a people who held a high standard of Christianity, who preached the whole Word of God and lived what they professed. One night the Lord led my husband and me into an Apostolic Faith tent meeting where Florence Crawford was holding a revival campaign in Vancouver, B.C., Canada. When we walked into the tabernacle, we knelt at our seats to pray before the service began. My husband began to weep, and he looked over at me and said, “God is in this place.” I had been so disappointed in trying to find the people of God that in my heart I thought, I’ll wait and see. But that night the testimonies rang forth with such victory that I knew these people had something real. God seemed to whisper in my soul, “You’re home at last.” I have never looked for another way. For over fifty years now, these have been my people, and their God has been my God.

As I attended my first Apostolic Faith camp meeting in Portland in 1910, one Sunday morning during the service, God rained down His power on the meeting, and I found myself with many others on my feet praising God in another language I had never learned. God had poured out upon me the mighty baptism of the Holy Ghost and fire. The Comforter had come into my heart!

God blessed my husband and me with three sons who gave their lives to Him. Two of them served in World War II. They went into the service of their country saved, and when they came home, they still had the victory. One of them served in the Korean War and had charge of the radar on the ship. His ship led the fleet through mine-infested waters, but I thank God that He spared my son’s life and brought him home safely.

When I was just a little girl, one of the lady workers in our church was very enthusiastic over foreign missionary work, and she organized a juvenile missionary society. She would gather us around her and tell us about the children from other lands who did not know about Jesus. That planted a desire in my heart to be a foreign missionary. Sometimes she would pray and say, “Lord, raise up someone from this little group to carry the Gospel to the heathen lands.” I used to kick my toe against the floor, and in my heart I would say, “She doesn’t know it, but I am going.”

For years I wanted to be a foreign missionary, but the church we attended required a college education in order to qualify. Illness in our home did not permit me to finish my education, so I had to give up the plans of going to the foreign fields. However, I am so grateful that our boys had a desire to labor in God’s vineyard. One of our sons carried the glad tidings of salvation to the West Indies, where he found many people who were hungry for the truth. Something in my heart makes me feel that my son, in some way, is helping to bear the responsibility that I felt as a child to get the Gospel to the foreign fields. I love the missionary work and am thankful the Apostolic Faith Church is helping send the Gospel message to lost souls all over the world. There is still something in my heart that longs for the whole world to know about Jesus. He has done so much for me. He has been my Friend all my life, and I love to see the Gospel go out to others.

I thank God for this lighthouse—a place where Gospel papers and tracts are printed and sent all over the world, so those who are hungry for God might know about Jesus’ power to save. I have had many years in this work, and I thank God for all the privileges He has given me in His service. I have grown old but the Gospel has not—it is just as good today as it was when God saved me many years ago. It is just as new and fresh today as it was back then.

I love Jesus today; He is my Friend, and I have proven that He is closer than a brother. There have been hard places along the way, but the God that we serve cares for us. I thank Him that He ever brought me into this wonderful way!

Missionaries in Their Own Country

‍After attending the Portland camp meeting in 1910, James and Edna Damron felt the Lord’s call to take the message of the Latter Rain Gospel to the Midwest United States. Florence Crawford encouraged them with the words, “There is not a tremor in my soul but that you will remain true.

”The couple left Portland in October 1911 and held Gospel meetings in Missouri and Arkansas, but their efforts were met with little interest. They wrote to Florence Crawford, and she directed them to Kansas City, Missouri. All they knew of Kansas City was what they had observed as they passed through on the train; the depot was in the slum district, and coal soot covered everything. Edna felt she could not take her little children to that dirty city, but her husband said, “Of course we are going.” The first Sunday in Kansas City, Edna prayed until the Lord put such a love in her heart for that place that she loved it for the rest of her life.

The couple had arrived in Kansas City in the winter of 1912 and rented a hall on West Missouri Avenue. They held a street meeting on a Saturday night, and there was a drunkard in the crowd who was known for his opposition to the Gospel. When the meeting concluded, he followed the crowd into the church for a service. The Damrons expected him to cause trouble, but he sat quietly through the meeting. At the close, he prayed and was wonderfully saved, becoming the first of many who received salvation that winter.

During their time in Kansas City, the Damrons bought a secondhand Cadillac, lengthened the chassis, and built a Gospel car to carry twelve workers and a street organ. Street meetings were held in the surrounding towns, and in some locations they held brush arbor meetings. The Gospel was taken to various places in Kansas, Iowa, Arkansas, and Oklahoma, and more souls were saved.

In 1926, the Damrons returned to Portland, bringing most of the Kansas City congregation with them. However, a remnant remained, and a church was dedicated there in 1965.

When James Damron passed away in 1936, Edna was appointed Midwest District Overseer. For the next nine years, she traveled throughout the Midwest, strengthening and encouraging struggling congregations. In 1942, she was sent to pastor the congregation in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where she remained until she retired in 1953 at the age of seventy-four.