Please welcome guest author Gary Carden. “I am a storyteller and I have been so all of my life,” he says. “I have four books, eight plays and I now tell stories on the internet, using my Facebook page. I worked for the Cherokee tribal government for 15 years and although I am in failing health, I hope to do a final video with Neal Hutcheson.“

Back in 1954 when I was living with my Uncle Albert in Brevard, NC so I could work in the local tannery, I used to walk to town every night and hang out in a book store and talk to people. 

One night, a Young man from Bob Jones University handed me a flyer and invited me to a “revival” which was being held in an abandoned hotel across the street. He told me that he had borrowed 300 chairs from the local funeral home and had paid to have the electric power turned on.  He had about four helpers, including a piano player, and said that he was doing his “practice preaching” just like the students at Western Carolina Teachers College did their “practice teaching,” and that he was expected to have “converts” and that he would be graded on his ability to conduct a revival. 

I joined his audience, which was about 200 people, and it was a pleasant gathering.  However, I noticed that the overhead lights were gradually dimming and a big theater light that had a colored gel on it was beginning to turn.  The gel was yellow and red and green.  In about twenty minutes, it was turning so fast it was just a blur. 

He carried in a large canvas and leaned it against the wall, directly in front of the audience, and then he opened a box of colored chalk and began to draw on that canvas.  The chalk glowed in the dark. 

This young man was very talented.  He drew Hell and in record time, he had agonized faces of poor sinners who were on fire and there were demons who were tormenting them and this would go on for ETERNITY.  He defined “eternity” and talked about endless suffering and pain, and all of this time, that light was spinning. 

I began to hear sobbing and I noticed that some teenagers were badly frightened.  Then, suddenly, it was over.  The theater light stopped.  The house lights came on.  The piano player began to play “Just As I Am” and that young Bob Jones preacher changed into a soft voice that whispered.  “Will you come?  Will you come before it is too late?” 

There was a little rush then as about 20 people went to the mourner’s bench.  I felt the pull and maybe it was only my background in theater that kept me in my chair. 

I would say that this young man got a good grade on his ability to create a revival and have genuine converts.  There is a small fundamentalist church behind my home, and late at night, I can hear them up there where a preacher is describing Hell and the eternal suffering of the sinners there. 

I heard this young man a year later at a little country church where he showed a film that was used to recruit potential students…….conversion through fear….

More articles on revivals:

That old-time tent revival(Opens in a new browser tab)

First time at a revival meeting(Opens in a new browser tab)

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