I’m not going to hold you much longer—just long enough to finish what I need to say. Tonight, I want to begin with the words of the Apostle Paul. Not from 1 Corinthians—no, excuse me—from 2 Timothy, chapter 4, beginning in verse 6:
“For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand.
I have fought a good fight.
I have finished my course.
I have kept the faith.
Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day—
and not to me only, but unto all them also that love His appearing.”
A few years ago, I was preaching in Australia. And after the service ended, a brother came up to me, visibly moved. He said, “Brother Donnie, I came tonight because I needed to tell you something.”
He introduced himself as a missionary evangelist—one who travels the islands around Australia and New Zealand, especially the Solomon Islands, preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ. He told me that about a year prior, he had been informed of a remote tribe on one of those Pacific islands—completely isolated, unreached, and untouched by the gospel. No one had ever shared Jesus with them.
He was asked, “Would you be the first to go?”
And he said, “My heart leapt. I said, ‘Let’s go.’”
To get there, they had to fly to the main city. Then another plane across the island. Then into a land cruiser. When the road ended, they started walking—uphill, downhill, through the veil of untouched forest. His guide told him, “Once we reach the top of the next hill, we’ll start to descend—and you’ll see the village.”
The missionary said, “I was thinking to myself, I’m going to be the first person to preach the gospel to them.” But as they rounded the bend—he heard something.
Music.
He paused. “I know that voice,” he thought.
And as they drew nearer, the sound grew louder. Clearer. Undeniable.
Jimmy Swaggart.
Singing “There is a River.”
He said, “Brother Donnie, I was stunned. I was defeated. I thought I would be the first. But Jimmy Swaggart had already gotten there—through a cassette tape.”
When he arrived, everything in the village stopped. The chief came out to meet him. And the very first words out of his mouth were:
“Did Jimmy send you?”
The missionary blinked. “Excuse me?”
The chief repeated, “Did Jimmy send you?”
That’s when he realized—he was talking about Brother Swaggart.
He asked them how they had heard that voice. And the chief told him: “Months ago, a trader from New Zealand passed through. He brought goods—and a cassette tape. He played it while he was here. We didn’t understand the words. But we felt something we had never felt before. So we asked if we could keep it. He gave us a small player—and every day, we wind it up. We listen. We don’t know this man, but now… he has sent you to tell us how to meet the One he sings about.”
And that day, that missionary preached Jesus Christ.
That story… sums up my father’s life.
Preaching the gospel. Reaching the unreached. Pouring himself out.