there, copies of the tapes went out to 126 cities, one at a time, to make our show the first syndicated
Christian TV show in the world! Courtesy of Martha White Flour Company, it also became the first Christian
show to have national sponsorship. Eventually, the show grew to include three other gospel groups and became
The Gospel Singing Caravan with my mom as the MC.
HEALING, HOLINESS, AND HYPOCRISY
The Le Fevres, launched into the spotlight through television, soon became famous in Southern Gospel music.
With my mom well on her way to becoming the queen of the genre, our family performed in some of the largest
auditoriums and arenas in the country.
We also sang for some of the biggest revival crusades and TV evangelists of the 1950s. During those years of the
great healing revival, I watched with utter amazement as God worked mighty miracles through such men as Oral
Roberts, A.A. Allen, Rex Humbard, and Jack Coe. Afterward, laughing and playing backstage with their children,
I never suspected I’d someday need such a miracle myself.
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My family not only sang for truly great ministers of God but also for some ministers who weren’t really serving
Him with their whole hearts. So I saw a lot of holy stuff and a lot of hypocrisy. I didn’t intellectually understand the
difference. But, as most children do, I sensed in my spirit that one was right and the other wrong. And like the world
war that had once darkened my parents’ life, the wrong I saw cast a shadow over mine.
A battle began inside me. Shaken by the good and bad I’d seen existing side-by-side in God’s people, I started to
question the possibility of ever really walking close to Him.
How can the sky be so dark and the stars so bright at the same time? It started out a kid’s question but as the
years passed it became a major spiritual dilemma. Although I would struggle with it for decades, when I finally
found the answer, it would keep me singing for the rest of my life.
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CHAPTER TWO
MUSICAL DREAMS
GOSPEL SHIP
I have good news to bring
And that is why I sing
All of my joy with you I’d like to share
And when my ship comes in
I’m gonna leave this world of sin
I’m going sailing through the air
I’m gonna take a trip
In that good ole gospel ship
And I am going far beyond the sky
And I’m gonna shout and sing
Until all the heavens ring
When I am bidding this ole world goodbye
Good Bye Ya’ll
Now don’t you want to go with me
Mylon Le Fevre
Angel Band Music/Dayspring Music
Used by permission
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God’s goodness doesn’t always show up in a blaze of glory. Instead, it sneaks up on you. It wraps itself in the
ordinary and turns you toward your destiny when you’re not looking. At least, that’s how it happened to me.
Long before I heard the fanfare of fame, or jammed in castles with millionaire musicians, God’s grace set my
course on my Aunt Maude’s farm. Every Thanksgiving all the Le Fevres gathered there for our family reunion. The
farm was heaven on earth for me when I was a kid. It was a beautiful homestead about five miles down a dirt road
in the rolling hills outside of McMinnville, Tennessee. My Uncle Othel, and his brother, Homer Parsley, (No city
slicker names for us; my family was definitely from the country!) inherited it from their father who divided it
between them.
I’ll be forever grateful for that farm. For me, playing hide and seek in the hay barn, shooting my BB gun at
everything in sight, swimming in the creek, and catching crawdaddies with my cousins, was the best kind of fun.
And it got even better when my Uncle George would show up with a box full of firecrackers. Cheap as dirt back
then, firecrackers were illegal in Georgia but not in Tennessee. So when Uncle George brought Cherry Bombs,
M-80s, TNTs, sparklers, and Roman Candles to Aunt Maude’s, we freaked out. We blew up stuff for days and lit
up the Southern sky at night.
When the fireworks were over and the grownups were finished playing rook, I’d head for Aunt Maude’s attic.
That’s where I always slept, with three or four of my ornery cousins, under piles of homemade quilts in a big old
feather bed. It was the best place on the planet to sleep—with occasional exceptions, of course. Like the time I
woke up in the middle of the night and realized nature was calling. Tossing and turning as the rain danced on the tin
roof overhead, I debated the risk. It was so cold in that unheated attic and so cozy under all those quilts! When I
couldn’t stand the discomfort any longer, I finally decided to brave the dark and run as fast as I could in my long
johns and boots to the outhouse. It seemed to me, a city boy, to be at least a mile away, but I made it.
Then I had to face the return trip.
That was the scariest part. Terrorized by the thought of unseen spiders, snakes, and other critters crawling around in
the pitch dark outhouse and tormented by the sounds of the night creatures outside, I tore back to the house in such
a panic that I trampled down the perfect rows of my Aunt Maude’s prized tomato patch.
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I didn’t mean to do it. But every monster that ever chased a 6-year-old in the dark was after me that night! My
only goal was to make it to the light on Aunt Maude’s back porch alive.
The next day my blunder became blatantly obvious. It looked like a tornado had beelined from the outhouse to
the back door. I’d torn up Aunt Maude’s precious tomato plants and she threatened to tear up my behind if I ever
did it again!
BREAKFASTS, BUCKSHOT, AND BANANA PUDDING
But not even booger bears or Aunt Maude’s wrath could dampen the excitement of days on the farm. As I
awakened in the mornings, the first breath of that brisk air would jerk me into consciousness just in time to see
the sunrise. The only heat in the house radiated from the fireplaces in the downstairs living room and dining
room,