By Kent York — kentyork@juno.com
In the early 50s, Curtis Goldman pastored the Calvary Baptist Church of Chickasha, Oklahoma. My mother would walk six blocks with my older brother and sister to Sunday school every week. My dad, a knot-headed oil-field man, never attended with Mom. This gave Curtis Goldman a reason to visit their home.
He came by to see my dad every week for months and months. Once, knowing my dad got in really late, Curtis knocked on the bedroom window and said, “Get up Jack, I want to talk to you about the Lord!” Curtis was holding his yearly faith promise mission conference and Frank Hooge was the main speaker. They were out making visits and it was lunch time; he knew Katherine had the lunch on the table. They headed for the parsonage to eat. Heading home, Curtis made a wrong turn. He turned to Bro. Hooge and said, “I know this town like the back of my hand, but I just turned down the wrong street.”
That wrong turn took him right in front of my dad’s house. He was in the front yard mowing the lawn. Of course Curtis yelled out the window at him, and, to his surprise, my Dad waved for him to pull in the driveway. Curtis looked at Hooge and said, “I better stop. This guy never wants to see me!”
As the preacher and missionary got out of the car, my dad told Curtis that his mother-in-law was visiting, that she was a “Big Baptist,” and that she would like to meet him. They all went into the living room. Grandma and mom came out of the kitchen where they had lunch on the table. The five of them stood in a circle in the living room and were introduced. Grandma thanked Bro. Goldman for visiting her son-in-law and wished he would keep it up. Curtis quickly shot back that he had given up on Jack York! “He’s just too hard headed and will not listen to me, so I’ve given up on him!”
My Dad’s eyes got great big and said, “Don’t give up on me.” Curtis said, “No, I’ve given up on you. You just wont take things seriously.” My dad again said, “Well, don’t just give up on me.”
Curtis then turned to dad and said, “Okay, Jack, you know you need to be saved.Why not be saved right now?” Mom and grandma told me you could cut the silence with a knife, the room was so tense, and the pressure was mounting. All of the sudden, my dad fell down on his knees, crawled across the floor, and grabbed Bro. Goldman’s hands.
Weeping, dad said, “I want to be saved!”
After Dad was led to the Lord, he asked, “What do I do next?”
Bro. Goldman said, “Come to church Sunday and make it public.”
After that Sunday morning, dad asked, “What do I do now?”
Bro. Goldman said, “You need to be baptized.” My Dad was baptized that night and after the service asked, “What do I do now?”
Bro. Goldman said, “Go witness to your friends.”
Monday night, Curtis and the family were sitting down to eat supper and a knock came to the door. It was my dad, asking Bro. Goldman to go with him to talk to four men he had witnessed to at work that day. Curtis grabbed his Bible and jumped in dad’s car. Dad pulled out his pack of Pall Malls and started to light one up. Curtis said, “Just pull over and let me out. If you’re going to smoke, I’m not going with you!” Dad quickly put the Pall Malls away and off they went that night, winning eight adults to the Lord.
Every night of the week other than church nights, Curtis Goldman and Jack York won souls. Bro. Goldman told me it was the most fruitful period in his entire ministry. A few years later, dad was called to preach. He pastored all my life until his death in 1984. Under my dad’s preaching, I was called to preach; under my preaching my four sons have been called to preach. I now have a grandson named Jack York who will be one year old in a few days. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll be called to preach. At any rate, he will definitely hear the gospel. You can see what the legacy of J. Curtis Goldman means to the York family.