VISION OF HUMANITY'S MARCH TO HELL
By LESTER SUMRALL
This excerpt is taken from his autobiography, “Run With The Vision”.
“It was in a little frame church building in the Tennessee countryside. I was sitting to the side of the
pulpit where a young man stood waving his arms and leading the congregation in song.
Suddenly I was no longer aware of the church, the people, or the song they were singing. I saw
before me all the people of the entire world. They were wearing their native clothing and they were
every shade of black and brown and red and white. I was impressed with how beautiful they were as
they walked down a very long and wide highway leading away from me.
It was very real. I could not believe I was experiencing a vision until after it ended and I found
myself back in the little building. I had never seen a large missionary pageant before, and many of
the native costumes were strange to me. Yet in the Spirit I was able to tell the countries of the world
they represented. In the vision, God lifted me up until I was looking down upon that uncountable
multitude of humankind. He took me far down the highway until I saw the end of the road. It ended
abruptly at a precipice towering above a bottomless inferno. When the tremendous unending
procession of people came to the end of the highway I could see them falling off into eternity. As
they neared the pit and saw the fate that awaited them, I could see their desperate but vain struggle
to push back against the unrelenting pressure of those to the rear. The great surging river of
humanity swept them ever forward.
God opened my ears to hear the screams of damned souls sinking into hell. God brought me nearer.
As men and women of all nations plunged into that awful chasm, I could see their faces distorted
with terror. Their hands flailed wildly, clawing at the air. As I beheld in stunned silence, God spoke
to me out of the chaos. “You are responsible for these who are lost.” “No, not me, Lord,” I defended
myself. “I do not know these people. I have never been to Japan, or China, or India; I am not to
blame.”
God’s voice was tender yet firm as He spoke again. “When I say unto the wicked, Thou shalt surely
die; and thou givest him not warning, nor speakest to warn the wicked from his wicked way, to save
his life; the same wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand. ”
That was the shortest sermon I had ever heard—and the most frightening. It was preached to me by
God Himself. Not until later did I discover that the passage was in the Bible (Ezekiel 3: 18). “Oh,
God,” I said. “Do you mean I can be responsible for Africans going to hell even though I have never
been to Africa? Am I responsible for South Americans being lost when I have never been there?”
God left no doubt in my mind. I was impressed that every Christian is responsible for taking the
message of God’s grace and salvation to those who have never heard.
Suddenly the vision was over. I was still trembling. Opening my eyes, I saw that the meeting house
was dark and I was there alone. I supposed the people had decided I was praying in a trance and just
closed the meeting and left me. It didn’t matter. A heavy burden settled down over my soul and my
heart felt like it was breaking in two. I began to weep, heaving and sobbing uncontrollably from
deep inside. I had cried before, but I didn’t know a human could cry as I did that night. I prostrated
myself on that wooden floor and remained there all night agonizing before the Lord. “Oh, God,” I
implored, “forgive me, forgive me for not loving the least, the last, and the lost of this world.” I
made a covenant with God that I would run as no man had ever run; I would fight as no man had ever fought, to find the lost and bring them the good news. From that night I knew that the world
would be my parish.”