367
October 1943
Leafing through his familiar notebook. H. C. Hunt (right) often will begin a conversation with, "I say there, have you seen this?" Then he will point to some gem he has found that just suits his hearer's need, or personality, or interest.
Twenty-Three Years of
■ 1 1 1 m m
By H. C. HUNT A s told to Two Good Friends
■Photo by Witzel,
B N JUNE the Lord allowed me to round out twenty-three years of service at the Bible Institute of Los Angeles— years that have been, to me, rich in spiritual blessing.
trails in places, I had reached the post office address given in the letter I held in my pocket. The request in that letter was my reason for this trip into the Sierra foothills of north ern California. Weeks before, a couple living here in this mining district had written to the Bible Institute of Los Angeles, expressing their interest in the Insti tute and in THE KING’S BUSINESS magazine. They assured us that a welcome would be given to a repre sentative of the Institute if any should eyer be near enough to make the trip in. Asvl was to be near this district on one o f my field trips, I felt I should accept this invitation. The Lord seemed to be impressing me with a sense' of urgency about the matter. But I now found that since I had received the letter, the people had moved on farther into the hills. Should I go back? I could not hope to find my way over the mountain trails in the coming darkness, and my supply of gasoline was dwindling. The service stations, like the 'good roads, had been left far behind in the valley. But when I prayed about it, I coUld not feel any urge to leave this region.
"I’ll find a place to sleep tonight,” I told myself, “and start oUt fresh in the morning.” It was early afternoon of the fol lowing day when I jolted around a curve in the trail, and came upon a small mining settlement whose log cabins clustered about the shaft of the mine. The sound of the car’s ap proach had brought several people from their cabins, and it was not long before I had found among them the family for whom I ha d . been looking. I was received with a warm wel come and soon was being conducted through the mine by Jack, the twelye- year-old son. That night as I gath ered with the family around the sup per table, Mrs. B. said: "Mr. Hunt, if we can get a group of the neigh bors together tonight, will you give us a Bible message? It isn’t often that we get to have a service up here, and many of these people are unbelievers—some are frank agnos tics.” A field secretary must be ready for any request, and because I was glad to have an opportunity to min ister the Word, I readily agreed. A little later, going to the cabin door way to breathe,the fresh mountain
Affectionately c a l l e d the "Dean” of Field Representa tives of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles, Mr. Hunt sat quietly for a moment, his eyes on the horizon of the blue Pacific that is visible from his beach home . . . He wac see ing, in memory, the outreach of the experiences of earlier years: of comforting the be reaved, of rejoicing with/the jubilant, of stimulating Chris tians to good works, and of ministering the Word when ever the opportunity was af forded.
Often the Lord led me In ways I did not ’ understand at first. There was that night, some fifteen years ago ».. . The lengthening s h a d o w s were warning signals of approaching night as I came out of the small mountain post office and climbed into my car. After miles of jolting over rough mountain roads, scarcely more than
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