Howard Goss didn't rant and rave to make his point. Nor did he use any emotional
gimmicks as he delivered the Word of God. He simply explained the truths of
Scripture in an easy conversational tone. But he also conveyed an unusual sense
of the blessing of God, a fact I grew to appreciate much later in life.
I had been in the ministry for about six years when I visited the city of Manila
in the Philippines to speak at a large church celebrating its anniversary. As I
browsed in the pastor's study before the service, I noticed a book written by
Howard Goss many years earlier. He had died since I had last seen him, but I
still vividly remembered the impression he made on me.
The pastor noticed the book I was leafing through and abruptly exclaimed, "You
know, his son goes to church here."
"What, here in Manila?" I asked.
"Yeah, he lived away from God for many years, went through a divorce, and ended
up in the Philippines. He's married to a Filipino woman, and their two boys go
to church with him all the time."
There was plenty of time before the service began, so I asked if I could meet
him. Within minutes a tall, hulking, middle-aged man walked in-the exact double
of his late father, complete with the large, balding head and huge hands. I was
stunned by the uncanny resemblance. As we sat and talked, I explained my
interest in knowing more about his dad. He told me about his father's
conversion, long years of preaching ministry, and beautiful marriage. Then he
opened up to me even more:
"Even though I drifted away from God, I never could get away from my parents'
prayers," he told me. "The farther I strayed, the more they interceded for me.
Dad was always seeking God. I would so often see him on his knees in his study.
His heart was so sincere before the Lord that I couldn't take being around him
when I was living so terribly. One night he and Mom prayed a long time for me
and waited up until I got home from my carousing.
"'Son, you're coming back to the Lord!' They said. 'God assured us in prayer
tonight that it's just a matter of time. Hallelujah!' And they were right, as
usual. I ran for a long time, but the Lord just got me into a corner and that
was it. I surrendered my life back to him years ago, and my two boys are now
fine young men of God. I just wish my dad had seen with his own eyes the answer
to his prayers. "You know, Pastor, my dad really walked with God. He was so
unusual compared to most of the ministers I saw while growing up. He was quite
famous in his circle of churches, and everybody wanted him to speak, especially
at those huge summer-camp meetings. He was a good writer and became an elder
statesman to a multitude of younger preachers and congregations. But all the
acclaim and popularity, all the invitations and compliments, never affected him
except to make him more humble before God.
"I'll never forget one big camp meeting up in Canada when I was a kid. Every
famous preacher was invited, and the crowds were tremendous. Our family arrived
a day early, and the leaders were making out the schedule for the speakers.
Meetings were held all day long-morning, afternoon, and night-and the visiting
preachers all wanted to speak during the night rallies when the crowds were
largest. The preachers actually jockeyed around, hoping to get the biggest
meetings for their preaching assignments.
"Suddenly one of the leaders asked where my father was. He was in the prime of
his ministry and was highly respected by everyone.
They wanted to consult with him, but no one seemed to know where he was. They
finally heard that he was last seen in the kitchen and dining hall area, so I
went with them to find him.
"They could scarcely believe their eyes when they got to the kitchen. There was
my dad on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor with some of the other
workers!
"'Brother Goss,' they said, 'what are you doing here? We're making out the
preaching schedule and wanted to know your preference.'
"'Oh, brothers,' my dad replied, 'you've got so many good preachers here that
you don't need to worry about me. But I found out that they're short of help
here in the kitchen so I thought I'd lend a hand."'
Tears welled up in our eyes as the son reminisced about his father, whose godly
heart had left such a deep impression on so many.
"My dad was sure different, Pastor;" he said. "He was the real thing. His heart
was so humble before the Lord that he had a special power in prayer and in
preaching. The Lord was really with my dad."
Cymbala, Jim. The Life God Blesses. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 2001, p.
82-86.
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