In September 1945, Bishop S.C. Johnson with a caravan of trucks, a house trailer, his two Packard automobiles; and accompanied by some of the saints, motored to Milford, Delaware. Here a tent was set up for a great tent meeting and an old fashion revival. He stayed here almost for 1 month with services almost nightly and nearly 100 souls were baptized in the name of Jesus and many were filled with the Holy Ghost. People traveled for miles to hear the gospel of Christ preached. Souls were baptized from as far north as New York, and of all creeds and nationalities. In spite of the victories won for Christ, as usual the hardships had to be endured. We were often told by him, that we all must be able to endure hardness to show ourselves as good soldiers of the Lord Jesus Christ.
The first weeks of camp meeting were filled with those rare beautiful days with the sky brilliant blue, topped with frosty white clouds, scattered here and there over the horizon. The wind blew warm and gentle: and the trees blew gold, swayed in rhythm to the breeze. It was good to be alive and see the wonderful workings of God in nature. As the scriptures say, "The heavens declare the glory of God and the earth showeth His handiwork." The warm weather of fall brews a storm quite often, as we were soon to learn. The next week of camp met with inclement weather and naturally brought cold winds in. During this storm, the tent was blown down. An emergency call was made to Bishop Johnson, who was in Philadelphia at the time and he immediately came down with men to repair and raise the tent again. For a few days the battle against the storm raged; for it was the hurricane that swept the Atlantic Coast in the fall of 1945. By the end of the week everyone was exhausted, trying to keep the tent erected and ready for Sunday services. Bishop Johnson had to have the radio line moved in from Philadelphia, and the broadcast reached the people every Sunday from Milford, Delaware.
The storm which had wrought havoc to so many coastal towns, still raged on Saturday night. Perhaps it had reached its intensity by then. As a last resort, Bishop Johnson had stationed the saints inside the tent; each lent his feeble support to one of the great poles that supported the big tent. Almost in vain, it seemed as the tent swayed and groaned against the pitching and tossing of the wind. Water, dark and swirling began to mount with deadly assurance, as it seeped under the flaps of the tent. Horrified, the saints watched its snail-like ascension. In the mind of each of them was the thought that if the water reached the transmitter of the broadcasting instruments, the many listeners who waited impatiently for the sound of Bishop Johnson's voice over the radio would be disappointed. Unless some miracle of God intervened, the tent was in danger of being blown down, for the broadcast the next day. The fury of the storm beat upon the flaps of the tent and shook it as though it was paper. All hope of being delivered had just about faded when suddenly the winds began to reside; the waters mounting so steadily began to subside. A soft gentle wind began to blow and the waters dried up in the tent and around the tent. Truly God had heard and answered prayer. He had indeed worked a miracle in the midst of His people. When the bus loaded with the saints arrived from Philadelphia the next day, there was no evidence of the near tragedy of the preceding night. As evidence, God’s prevailing peace would always surround this man and all the efforts he was called to accomplish in the name of Jesus Christ. Serenity would always prevail and after each and every storm a better day would always lie ahead. And in those better days that were always to come God continued to work greater and greater miracles in the ministries of Bishop Johnson.
Soon it was for all the world to know that God worked many miracles at the hand of our dear, beloved Bishop Johnson. Among the most outstanding could be mentioned the healing of a man's eyes who had come for services, and was sitting well in the rear of the tent. There were two signs in the front of the tent and one of them was Acts 2:38. After preaching, Bishop Johnson asked for candidates for baptism, and this man came forward, toward the front of the tent, weeping. It was then that he said that he could not see to read the signs until the call was made for baptism; then the Lord opened his eyes, and he was able to read the signs. He then demanded to be baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. It was a lovely day; beautiful to perfection. There was a small lake near the site of the tent and it was this spot that Bishop Johnson chose for baptism. The lake was about 50 feet wide at the mouth, here the banks were about 6 feet high on each side and at one end tapered off until it was level with the water. Here the candidates were taken and Bishop Johnson waded in until the water reached the waistline. Each candidate was brought over a small ledge that led from the highway, over the banks of the cliff to the water for baptism. It was a lovely scene. Late in October, the caravan returned to Philadelphia. Tired in body and badly in need of rest physically, but elated at the spiritual victory that had been won.