In Pursuit of Destiny - Biography of Wayman Mitchell
Chapter 1
"THERE'S GOLD IN THEM THERE HILLS"
"I fear nothing in God's will" - W.M.
The roar of two thousand voices raised in fervent praise slowly subsided and a burst of spontaneous applause began to spread across the congregation. From where I stood I could see an array of faces upturned - Hispanic, Caucasian, Oriental, African - a colorful spectrum of the human family, united in joyful worship. Above us, the yellow and white stripes of the big top undulated gently in the warm Arizona breeze. Flags from nations of every continent on earth hung in silent testimony of people now reached with the good news of salvation. Their silks of red, blue, yellow, green, white and crimson seemed to ripple in unison with the cadence of praise that still rolled forth across the vast assembly.
Prescott
To the left, through the open wall of the tent, the dark outline of the Arizona hills shimmered in the July heat and, closer to hand, the highway miraged in sunlight, bent its way towards distant rocky outcrops. A truck rumbled by headed for the city of Prescott. Distracted, I followed its journey in my mind's eye, past the orange humps of Granite Dells and the picturesque waters of Watson Lake, to the valley head where the streets of this small Arizona town begin to fan from the highway into the pine-clad bluffs that encompass Prescott on all but its eastern flank.
Early History
This town, founded in 1864, had history to it. Once it was the territorial capital perched over a mile high in the Southern Rockies. No doubt its citizens were only too glad to live there and find relief from the searing desert heat a short journey to the south. Prescott had been a major stopping place for the stage to the west, but later, engineers had forced steel across the desert plains and had conquered the buttresses to bring the Santa Fe railroad to Prescott before the close of the eighteen hundreds. In the surrounding hills, miners had burrowed for copper and had eagerly panned the stream beds for gold.
A piece of the Wild West
A succession of Wild West characters had passed through Prescott in the closing days of the last century. Their arduous journey is eloquently recorded in markers up the winding trail from Phoenix, Horsethief Basin, Bloody Basin, Bumble-Bee Canyon, Dead Man's Wash. The place names tell their own story. Most of these travellers were hopeful pilgrims on their way to California. Others had elected to stay in Prescott. Their portraits, yellowed in sepia, stare from the walls of local restaurants and the city museum, drooping mustaches, battered Stetsons, cheeks with hairy sideburns and women folk dressed in long, faded denim and bunned hair, faces stem as the country they sought to subdue.
Rip Van Winkle arrives
By the late 1920's, Prescott had seen it's heyday. The status of State Capital had passed to Phoenix, veins of ore petered out and the main road to the west now ran through Flagstaff, 90 miles to the north. Rip Van Winkle came to town and fifty years of sleepy seasons were to pass before a second wave of visitors began to arrive in the city of Prescott - this time young people, hippies, in their scores began to appear in the square of the city, long hair, bedrolls, beads - California bound. With their advent was to dawn a most remarkable era in the history of this sleepy Southwestern city. A visitation of God was at hand.
"Please shake the hands of a few people near you, and tell them you're glad that they are here."
The voice cut across my drifting thoughts. Behind the microphone stood a figure of medium height, in blazer and slacks. Wayman Mitchell had come to the pulpit, at the front of the large platform. Bespectacled, with receding hairline, and in his mid sixties he scarcely fitted the image that one would expect from a leader of a world-wide movement of God. Nevertheless his voice had a timbre and tone of authority to it. He spoke again, "would you please be seated r have a few announcements to bring to your attention." I found myself musing once more, a face that could be lost in a crowd in a place that could be lost on a map, and yet God had brought both together to trigger one of the 20th century's most amazing revivals.
An unknown name in the largely unheard of place of Prescott, Arizona had witnessed twenty five years of continuous growth and unparalleled blessing from God. The scripture from Paul's letter to the Corinthians came to mind.
"God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty, and the base things of the world, and the things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to naught things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence."
Truly God was at work and was fulfilling His Word, choosing to do so by the most obscure vessels in the most obscure place.
The ensuing chapters of this volume wilI seek to tell how God took hold of one of these obscure vessels, Wayman Mitchell, and by His sovereign power and mysterious means, raised him up as a uniquely prepared servant to spearhead a spiritual revival that has encircled the earth.
It is a book that we have chosen to call "In Pursuit of Destiny". The life story of Wayman Mitchell - a man sent from God.
Contents | Intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
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