Sermons and lessons by Dr. Ben M. Bogard, etc.

When Dr. Bogard began to preach, I forgot that Atheist Smith was beside me. I lost consciousness of the crowd in the auditorium. Dr. Bogard was preaching on John 3:16. "For God so loved the world--" But I lost consciousness that there even was a world.

GOD LOVED ME. Christ died for me.

Dr. Bogard, whom I had never seen before, was preaching to ME. His words struck like fiery darts into my mind, and heart, and soul.

It was as though I were all alone--in the middle of eternity. Christ died for me. Dr. Bogard was giving this "good news"--this GOSPEL--to me.

What was happening to my philosophical framework of "militant atheism ;" all the "scientific" arguments against the existence of God? Dr. Bogard was dealing with them, one by one. He was smashing them. He was battering them down with merciless logic.

This sermon he was preaching was not just a call to repentance. It was a scholarly presentation of the Truth of God. Once in the middle of it--only once--I remembered my "boss" beside me. I glanced at Atheist Smith. His eyes were not twinkling; they were aflame with rage. His lip was curled in a sneer. He was trying not to be mad, but he was mad. I knew what he would say when we left; he would wisecrack and laugh, in a forced sort of way. But he wasn't laughing now. Deep down in his heart, the truth was striking home--and it hurt.

When the sermon was over, Mr. Smith turned to mc and barked, "Let's get out of here-fast."

Outside, I said, "What's the matter--why the rush?"

"Oh, I can only stand so much of this fanaticism," grumbled Atheist Smith.

Back in the hotel, Smith had regained his composure. The twinkle was back in his eyes, "See what I told you, Danny? Bogard knows how to dish it out. He is an artist. He makes religion intoxicating, seductive. If he gets you under his spell, you might even join him."

"But he didn't whoop and holler," I commented. "He didn't rant and storm, He didn't weep and moan. He just presented his message the way you would expect the Truth to be presented."

"That's because he's smart," Smith explained. "Didn't I tell you so?"

"Sure you did," I replied. "But you also said he was a fool."

"Of course he is," snapped Smith. "He's a fundamentalist, isn't he? Only a fool can believe the Bible from cover to cover." A little later, Smith said, "I don't think we will go to any more church services."

"Are you afraid something might happen?" I asked.

Smith started to say something, then apparently changed his mind. He bit his lip and said quietly, "No, it's just a waste of time."

Late Sunday night, Atheist Smith got a wire from New York. He did not tell me its contents. After reading it, he asked if I would go immediately to New York. I agreed.

He gave me instructions as to personal and confidential work I was to do for him there.

The next morning at 8, I left for New York City.

Mr. Smith opened up the Atheist headquarters in downtown Little Rock.

At 10, a mob formed in front of the atheist display room. The plate-glass window with the blasphemous sign was smashed. Mr. Smith's "tons" of free literature were torn up. Twenty minutes later, Mr. Smith was being led down the street with a rope around his neck.

Reinforcements from the police station rescued Atheist Smith from the mob and put him in jail for safe keeping, under an anti-blasphemy statute.