Some time ago… I’m a hunter; you know that. I’ve hunted all–practically all over the world, big game. My mother’s a half Indian, and I just love it enough till I just can’t stay out of the fields hardly. My conversion never even took it out of me. And I used to go up here into the mountains, in the Green Mountains, in above the Adirondacks. And I used to hunt with a man up there. And he was the most cruel-hearted-est fellow, and he would just want to act smart. He knew I was a minister. And he would shoot fawns. It was lawful to shoot one fawn, but he would just shoot them just for the fun of it.
Now, if you wanted to kill a fawn, that’s up to you. If the law says so, go ahead. Abraham killed a calf and God eat it (That’s right: in the Bible.), with some corn cakes and milk from the cow and butter too. That’s right. God Almighty Himself eat it. The Bible said He did. That’s exactly right, and then disappeared, and could tell Sarah laughed when it was behind Him. That’s some mental telepathy for you, isn’t it? That’s right. God always works in those ways. But all… Did… Is that right? Said, “Why did Sarah laugh?” And the Bible said that He had His back turned to her. He knows what’s going on at all places. So when you see the Spirit of God knowing those things, don’t be alarmed; it’s just God.
So notice, this fellow, he just wanted to be smart. And every time he’d see a little fawn, he’d shoot it. And I said, “You cruel-hearted man.”
And he said, “Aw, you chicken-hearted preacher.” See? He said, “That’s the way with you fellows; you’re a little sissy.”
I said, “No, Bert, that’s not it. There’s such a thing…” Man is not measured by how much muscle he’s got; that’s beast. I’ve seen men that weighed two hundred pounds and didn’t have an ounce of man in them: throw a baby out of a mother’s arms and ravish her. That’s not a man; that’s a brute. Man’s measured by character. There never was a man like Christ Jesus, never was a character like that. Man’s measured by character.
And I said, “Man’s not measured by his big arms, but by the bags of the knees in his pants, whether he’s been praying or not.” That’s right.
And he said, “Aw, you preachers, you’ll get next to yourself.” And he… When next year, when I come up, he had him a little old whistle. And he had done it just for meanness. And he’d blow that whistle; and it’d sound just like a little fawn crying. He said, “Watch me get them this year, preacher.”
And I thought, “God, be merciful to that poor fellow.” Well, I–I liked him as a man. I deal with all kinds of men. You… That’s the way to win them to Christ. So I went out hunting with him, and we was up in the woods. And he thought he’d have a little fun out of me. He got to an open space up there, and he took this little old whistle, and he blowed it; and it sounded just like a little fawn crying for its mother. And I looked across, and a great big mother doe raised up, and those great big ears, those big brown eyes, her graceful looking figure; she walked out there, listening, heard that baby’s cry.
Bert slipped a shell in his rifle, raised it up, and put the cross hairs across her heart, and as he was making a noise, the doe looked and she saw him. She looked right in the barrel of that rifle, but what was it? The baby was in trouble. She didn’t care if it was life or what it taken; that baby was in trouble and that mother’s love was so great, no matter what the rifle looked like, or whether death was right in the road, that bullet fixing to clean through her heart, she was looking for that baby. There was a cry; there was in need, and she was a mother, and she was looking for that baby.
And as Bert, standing there, and I had my head bowed, I thought, “God, how can he do it?” And as he was just standing there, I happened to look around. I thought, something strange, the rifle never fired. I looked back and the barrel was shaking. He set the barrel down, the gun down, dropped the barrel on the ground, run around, and he grabbed me in his arms and said, “Billy, I’ve had enough of it. I can’t stand it no more.”
What was it? When he seen that display of real mother’s love, heroism, looking death right in the face without one stare, it captured that cruel heart of his.
Brother, if you could only find out what the love of God is. “A mother may forget her suckling babe, but never will I forget you. Your names are engraved upon the palms of My hand.” Christ is looking for men and women tonight who will stand out with the love of God, regardless. The world’s looking tonight for someone to display the real genuine faith of God, no matter what people say, what circumstance is in, how I feel, what it looks like. How I heard the call of God. He’s my Father, and I stand to accept His Word, regardless. May God help us tonight to see that as we bow our heads just a moment. And if the organist will, sister, just a chord of some altar call if you will.”