Arthur A Pilgrim

Arthur Blessitt

Blessitt Publishing

1. A WALK IN THE PAST

After many perilous walks, my mind often goes back to my early commitment to Christ and the later call to carry the cross.

I've had the most wonderful mother and father. I was born in Greenville, Mississippi, on October 27, 1940. My dad was in the Air Force when I was born. He had been managing a cotton plantation near Greenville before he was called into service. We were living in California when World War II broke out and my dad immediately went overseas. It would be four years before dad would return. He was stationed throughout the South Pacific and he came home a Captain. We lived in Port Niches, Texas, then New Orleans, Louisiana, Cleveland, Mississippi and then moved to West Carroll Parish, Louisiana, where we lived during most of the years I was growing up. My father had a serious drinking problem. It was very difficult for him to stop if he started, but he was one of the most wonderful and beautiful men anyone could ever know. I never saw my mother lose her temper or get angry in all the years I lived at home. She is the most Christ-like woman I have ever known.

We lived on a cotton plantation and then moved to the swamps and had a saw mill, where we sawed timber and farmed. When I was seven years old we went to a brush arbor revival meeting outside of the Good Will Baptist Church. There were poles that were sticking up and limbs lying over the top and there was a traveling evangelist preaching. We went to the meeting in our big truck and during the invitation I felt Jesus calling me to give Him my life. It was the first time that I felt I was lost and needed Christ to come into my heart, and I wanted to receive Him.

My wonderful mother held my shirt and wouldn't let me go, saying, "You're too young!" She said I had been squirming around all during the service and she didn't even think I was listening. She said, "It is very serious." "I know," I said. "I want to give my life to Jesus."

We were driving home and I kept pleading with mother and dad, telling them I wanted to give my life to Jesus. Dad turned the truck around in the middle of the road and drove back. All the lights were out except one light in the dirt parking lot, and there was the evangelist and the pastor talking to a lady. We went over to them and my dad said, "My son wants to give his life to Jesus."

I was standing there in Big Mac overalls and the evangelist got down on his knees. He explained that I could let Jesus come into my heart and be my Savior. I knelt down and invited Christ to live within my heart, to forgive my sins and save my soul, and I knew that He did. I didn't cry, I didn't shout. I just knew Jesus was with me.

I began passing out gospel tracts in the bars where my father would sometimes be drinking. We experienced many things during those years. I'd listen for hours as people would talk in the bars, what they were talking about, what they were thinking about. One night when I was 13 years old, my dad came home drunk in the middle of the night. He said, "Son, get the Bible." I got the Bible and mother and I gathered around him. We knelt on our knees beside the couch and dad said, "I can't make it on my own. I've tried to quit. I'm giving it all to Jesus. We are going to have Bible reading and prayer in our home every night and I want Jesus to take control of my life and my home." And my dad got up a brand new man, and he and I went back to many bars where he had once drank and we shared about Jesus to the men who were in there.

Lying in my room when I was 15 years old I felt the call of Jesus Christ to give my life to preach the gospel. I said to mother and dad, "Jesus is calling me to preach, but I don't think I can."

"Son," Mother said. "If God wants you to preach, He will give you the strength to do it. If He doesn't, then you need to do something else, whatever He tells you to do."

The next night, lying in my bed, I gave my life to Jesus Christ to preach, and I have never had a desire to do anything else since. When I made the commitment to preach I felt the glory of God, and I went sound asleep. I was asleep within five minutes after making the commitment. The next Sunday I went forward in church and made my commitment public. My dad came to me after the meeting and said, "Son, I want to pray for you. When I was a young man, God called me to preach but I didn't do it, and it is part of the reason my life has had so much unhappiness at times. It was because I was supposed to be preaching but never did, and I want God to give you a double portion of His Spirit to make up for what I didn't do."

About a week later, my Granddad Campbell got in touch with me. Granddad Campbell is my mother's father. He also had a farm, but it was located in Mississippi. I went over to visit him. He took me in his pickup truck and we drove to the far side of a field to a place where there was a small patch of woods and there was cotton and corn growing. He said, "Son, let's get out of the pickup."

We walked out to the edge of the field and woods and he said, "Grandson, get down on your knees. I want to lay hands on you and pray for you. When I was a young man I felt God call me to preach but I didn't do it, and I want to pray that God will give you a double portion of His Spirit to make up for what I didn't do."

"Granddad," I said. "You've got to pray for me three times as much, for daddy didn't do it either!"

After committing my life to preach, I preached my first sermon when I was 15 years old. Then I went to Mississippi College in Clinton. The Lord led me to Anaconda, Montana, to spend six months beginning a church there.

Gate Theological Seminary. I was only there for one semester because of my deep burden to start witnessing in nightclubs and bars, and reaching the hurting people of our time. I went to Elko, Nevada, and we began five churches in two years. I then did youth evangelism and preached in churches across the country for almost two years before going to Hollywood, California, in 1967 to begin a street ministry and open a Christian coffee house on the Sunset Strip.

I felt God speak to me, telling me to pray all night long. Oh, how I love to just be with God. When I was a child I would often sit in a big pin oak tree in our front yard and pray. Sometimes, all night. Mother would holler out to me, "Son, are you okay?" I'd reply, "Yes, Mother," and my soul would thrill in fellowship and friendship with my Lord. I've always felt close to Jesus, never alone from Him. So, on that night, He was to alter my life forever.

I was preaching a crusade in Garland, Texas, the first week of September, 1969 at the First Baptist Church and at Garland Stadium. As is normal for me, I also went into a nightclub to share Jesus Christ. There was a chain of nightclubs called "The Cellar." I first met the owner in Houston, Texas and preached there, then I had preached at "The Cellar" in Fort Worth, and now that night I was preaching on the stage at the club in Dallas. The Cellars are notorious for the dancing girls, drug addicts and the red necks the girls attracted. I had preached on stage for 15 minutes in the smoked filled loud and rowdy club, and then I talked to the customers until very late. First that day the church, then the club, then prayer until dawn. As I knelt by my bed with only the sound of the air conditioner in the small one story motel, I prayed. I was 28 years old, only weeks away from my 29th birthday on October 27th. For years I had traveled America preaching youth crusades in churches, parks, beaches, bars, parking lots, and then God led me to minister on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood, California.

The call to give my life to carry the cross around the world came on a warm Texas night. Like so many times in my life, it is late at night in the stillness that God speaks to me powerfully, life changing and glorious! This was one of those times. It was 5:00 in the morning and I had felt God speak to me, telling me to pray all night long. Oh, how I love to just be with God. I've always felt close to Jesus, never alien from Him. So, on that night, He was to alter my life forever.

Two members of my staff were there this very night in our Jesus nightclub, called "HIS PLACE." I was praying for them, for the people in the bar, for the church meeting, when suddenly Jesus spoke to me ... not in an audible voice, but in my heart and mind. I know His voice. In a clear revelation of witness to me, He said, "I want you to take the cross that is hanging on the wall in HIS PLACE and carry it across America."

I was stunned. The words lingered in my mind and then wave after wave of the power of the Holy Spirit swept over me, from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head like ocean waves. It seems as though inside of me my inner being was aglow. I was immersed in that incredible call, bathed in the Holy Spirit's lingering presence. Tears were pouring down my face, even as I was smiling, praising God and laughing, saying, "Thank you, Jesus, wow! Yes, Lord! Thank you, Jesus."

The Lord spoke more. "I want you to take the cross onto the roadsides and streets of the world to identify my message in the streets with the common man. I am sending you into the secular world. By your walking, I am going to put the gospel on television, on the radio, in the news.I want you to bear witness of My life and My love, proclaim My peace in the streets."

As I thought on these things it seemed the Lord was telling me, "When I was here I was in the streets with the common man, which is where my message has to be identified in the streets." I didn't question the call, only thrilled that Christ had spoken to me.

One night when I was a student at Mississippi College I was praying in my dorm room. As I lay on the floor I remember praying, "Lord, I may not be able to preach like Billy Graham, or sing like Beverly Shea, but I'll be your garbage can. If there is anything someone else won't do, I'll do it. I volunteer."

I think time and time again God has called the good, the mighty, and the best qualified, but then somehow they refused and He got to the bottom of the barrel and there I was and He'd say, "Blessitt, come on, boy," and I'd jump out thrilled, happy and excited, just to do anything the Lord says.

I raced out of my motel room to the next room and began to pound on the door. "Wake up! Open the door!" I cried out.

I could hear stumbling toward the door and then it opened. "What in the world are you doing, Blessitt!" It was O.J. Peterson and Jim McPheeters, my singing group; they were on the staff of HIS PLACE in Hollywood. O.J. had been a nightclub piano player and was now converted. Jim had served with the Marines in Vietnam and had been converted at HIS PLACE. Both were in their early twenties. I turned on the light as they stood rubbing their eyes.

"Praise the Lord, God wants me to take the cross that is on the wall at HIS PLACE and carry it across America from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C. and spread the word of Jesus across the land. Jesus is the answer. He is the way out of our troubles. He is the solution"

"Blessitt, are you crazy?!" they said, trying to get awake.

"Can we go with you?" they asked. "We can sing and you can preach across America."

"Praise God!" I said. I knew it was right for them to go with me. I sat down at the foot of their bed and we began to plan the trip in the early morning hours. We'll need a flatbed truck to preach on, a public address system, an electric generator, gospel materials, and a trailer to live in. We prayed, planned and were filled with excitement at the call to carry the cross on foot across America.

In all my wildest dreams I never thought my life would be indelibly imprinted with the cross.

Back in the mid-60's God had led me to minister in Hollywood, California. First at "love-ins," then to the Sunset Strip crowd of hippies that gathered each Sunday at Griffith Park in 1966-67. I talked to the young kids as the music played and they sat in the grass taking LSD and drinking. I would speak to them about Jesus. One Sunday as I spoke to a young fellow, he said, "Why don't you say the message on stage?"

"Well, they probably wouldn't let me," I replied, looking toward the platform where a far-out rock group played loud screeching music.

"Oh, yes you can. I run the program. You can have five minutes."

I spoke and invited those who wanted to hear more to meet me under a tree nearby. About 50 came over and the crowd applauded. This was my first big step in becoming known as the minister of Sunset Strip.

In Hollywood, I would walk the streets talking to the kids, feeding them and would sometimes have 20 or more sleeping on our apartment floor. We need a Jesus nightclub that is open all night in the center of this place. I had been preaching at Gazzarri’s on the Strip. Bill Gazzarri, the godfather of rock and roll, had first thrown me out, but now I was preaching on-stage on Tuesday nights, and then unknown singers who later became world-famous were helping me - Andre Crouch and "The Disciples," Charles McPheeters and "The New Creatures," Sharon Peck and "The Sunshine Sisters," and the Jimmy Owens Singers.

We opened HIS PLACE in March, 1968, in the heart of Sunset Strip, an area of the 60's sub-culture, where thousands of runaway young people, drug addicts, teenage prostitutes, Hell's Angels, and other notorious biker groups, flower children, dreaming young actresses, music groups, the lonely, embittered, the lost, the hopeful poured by the thousands each week. Everything was on the Strip in West Hollywood, but a refuge, a haven, a Jesus nightclub was not there.

We rented a building next to a topless go-go club and prepared to open. Everything was ready. We had wild lights, fishnet ceilings, a stage, prayer room, pool room, and we would give away free food yet, something was missing.

I felt we needed a life size cross with colored lights hanging on the stage so everyone who walked in would be immediately impacted by the cross. Young people stoned on drugs or drunk would never forget the cross. We needed something visual to go with the spoken word, to point the way to life in Christ. We were getting cable spools to use as tables at an electric company in Santa Monica where we found cross beams for big light poles, four-foot by four-foot, soaked in creosote to preserve them. These would make the perfect "old rugged cross."

Back in our building, I cut a piece out of the center of the beams so the two pieces would fit together and formed the cross. After drilling the holes and putting in the bolts, we realized that we had no wrench to tighten the bolts. Just at that moment I heard the roar of a Harley-Davidson. Looking out the front window I saw Tom getting off his chopper. I knew him from all my time sharing Christ with the Hell's Angels. He was as tough as they come one of the old original charter members. Middle-aged, shorter than I, thick, strong shoulders, bearded and with long hair.

"Hey, Tom!," I called as I walked out the door. "Do you have a wrench I can borrow? It will only take a minute."

"Yeah, I got one."

He reached down and pulled one out.

"I just want to tighten three bolts."

"Hey, I'll do it for you," he said as he followed me in. "Over there..., "I pointed. The cross, 12 feet long by six feet wide, was lying on the floor. It was an impressive sight. "The three bolts right are there."

He froze in his steps. His big, rugged face filled with shock. "What is it?"

"It's a cross."

"Hey, man, you do it." He backed away from the cross. As I began to tighten the bolts, I was amazed at his response. The big, tough, fearsome fellow had encountered the cross. It had shocked him. Cut him to his heart. And he didn't want to touch it. No, not the cross.

"Come back tonight and see it on the wall," I told, handing him his wrench.

'No, no. I'm not coming back," he said, shaking his head.

"Well, come back sometime. Jesus loves you, Tom. This cross is not the message of death, but life. He died for you and rose again. You can have real life in Him. You can be free inside."

"No," Tom sighed. "I don't want anything to do with the cross."

"Hey, man, you are already a part of it," I smiled, “because your wrench tightened down the center bolt."

He dropped his head and turned to leave. "I'll think about it," he said as he slowly walked out the door.

After he left, Dale and I knelt around the cross, dedicating it to Jesus for His glory. We prayed for Tom. "Jesus, we claim this man for You, the first person to encounter this cross, that he will be saved. I pray that he will not forget what he saw here today. All day as he goes around, bring the cross to his mind. When he goes to sleep, make him dream of the cross. Draw him to Yourself."

Tears filled my eyes and I wept as we lifted the cross to hang it on the wall. The thought of Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Son of God, perfect, full of love, beaten, bloody and dying. It seemed as if I could hear the sound of the hammer against the nails. Then He was lifted up between Heaven and earth to pay by His blood for our sins. To bring us to the Father, to bring us together with each other, to forgive our sins, and for me to experience building the cross and now lifting it up had brought home to me something I'd missed along the way. How much better now I could say with Paul in the Bible, "We glory in the cross." As I lifted it up for Dale to tie it to the wall, I never dreamed I would be carrying this cross thousands of miles. I had no idea how my life would change. That one day I would go with the cross on foot around the world. This was only the beginning.

What you will read on the pages that follow is true, but more dramatic than fiction. It is an epic pilgrimage, shaping my life and the lives of others along the way, and perhaps your life too.

Four days later Tom walked into HIS PLACE and started staring at the cross hanging from the wall of the stage. "Tom, Jesus loves you," I said softly.

"You know," Tom said. "I just can't get this cross out of my mind. Everywhere I go I keep seeing it laying down there on the floor. I even dreamed about it. It's strange how I drove up just at the time you needed that wrench."

"No, it's not strange, Tom." I said. "Because God wants you. He is drawing you to Himself. He brought you to the cross, now He brought you back. Jesus loves you so much. He suffered and died for every sinful thing you've ever done. Open your heart and you can know Him. Repent and He will cleanse you."

After a short time we went up to the prayer room on the second floor, sat down, and I showed him in the Bible how to be saved and then we prayed together. He was born into the family of God. During the next two weeks I spent much time with him teaching him the word of God. Two weeks after his conversion he was killed on his motorcycle on the Hollywood Freeway. I preached his funeral with scores of Hell's Angels attending. Five more bikers were converted there. The first person that had anything to do with the cross was converted and that has set a pattern ever after. People see the cross, hear the word, and meet the living Christ.

I preached at midnight every night at HIS PLACE, standing under the cross. People came to pray at our altar under the towering cross. I don't have time to tell the story, but in the summer of 1969 after we were evicted from our second HIS PLACE building, I moved the cross out of the building and chained myself to it with a strong chain. We were having a big battle with the police, nightclubs and property owners who were trying to close us and drive the witness of Jesus from the streets. I had been arrested three times for witnessing on the streets, and now evicted by a landowner who claimed we were out of taste with the neighborhood. Chaining myself to the cross was the climax to that struggle. I refused to eat, fasting day after day there on the sidewalk with the cross leaning against a light pole, the chain locked around the center beam and coming down to where I was chained on the bottom for 24 hours a day. I had no idea how long I would have to sit. I was prepared to die. I would not let the witness of Christ be driven from the streets of West Hollywood. Radio, television and newspapers carried the fast nationwide. Believers and non-believers rallied forth. Others thought I was crazy. Hundreds found Christ around the cross. Now I saw the reproach of the cross in the minds of many, even many Christians, but I also saw the impact of the cross. First I made the cross, and then preached under it for two years, now I was chained to the cross. Christ was preparing me to live in the way of the cross, stamping me with the cross.

Bob Friedman, a news reporter for The Los Angeles Herald Examiner came one day to report the story. He was a Jewish non-believer, drawn back to the cross week after week by the Holy Spirit. Finally one night he was converted on the street. The very next day we got a new building, and I ended the fast and unchained myself from the cross, ending 28 incredible days of being chained to the cross in the center of Hollywood's Sunset Strip. Only a few weeks later I was to receive another mission concerning the cross I had by now become so identified with.

The same Sunset Strip in Hollywood has seen many attractions: Schwab's Drug Store, where Lana Turner was discovered and later became a star; the Classic Cat, that helped pioneer topless dancing; the Largo, largest burlesque show west of the Mississippi River; Whiskey-a-go-go, home of famous rock 'n roll music; Pandora's Box, from where Peter Fonda led that famous protest that exploded with the hippie movement on the Strip. But on the Sunset Strip at 10:00am on Christmas Day in 1969, the cross of HIS PLACE on Sunset Strip was to be put on the shoulders of a man who began one of the most dramatic and enduring pilgrimages in the history of man.

Before the historical first step with the cross was to begin, I was to get some news about my health.

Lying in a hospital bed in Glendale Adventist Hospital, I heard the doctor say, "Mr. Blessitt, you need brain surgery immediately. You have an aneurysm in your brain, an abnormal dilation of the blood vessel wall, a blood vessel blown out like a balloon. It is seeping blood, causing your problem."

I was numb on much of the right side of my body. Four times in three years I had this problem. A stroke had landed me in the hospital. This time all kinds of tests were done to my brain, including an arteriogram, where they inject dye into the artery leading into the brain with a large needle. It is a serious and painful test. My neck swelled bigger than my head after the test. I had severe headaches and vomiting, and was not supposed to move. My neck was packed with ice. The test almost killed me, and now they were giving me the report.

"We need to operate immediately to repair the blood vessels. It is a very serious operation, but you should be okay in a few weeks or months, but there is also a possibility you could die or be paralyzed during the operation."

"What if I don't?" I asked.

"The blood vessels could burst at any time. If you just rest, don't get excited, don't preach, or lift heavy things. You may have six months to three years to live. The aneurysm must be repaired."

The doctors say, "Operate," and God says, "Carry the cross."

Christmas Day was the time to begin. Do I obey the doctor or the call of God? I asked for time and left the hospital still sick and bedridden. I went home to our small rented house in Hollywood. The doctors had given me much medicine to take. I was surrounded by those I knew and loved, and all the little security that I had. Everyone was in suspense at what my decision would be. We had made plans for my staff to keep HIS PLACE open while I carried the cross across America. The cross still hung on the wall of our building.

I lay in bed praying, "Jesus, what do I do?"

No answer. In the middle of the night I realized Jesus had already spoken. Take the cross and go on Christmas Day I had already agreed and accepted the mission. Now, do circumstances affect the call? l was learning fast. A lesson that was to mark the years ahead. The call of God is not conditional; His call is not to be interpreted in light of circumstances no matter how adverse. I made this decision. I'd rather die in the will of God than live outside of it. By going, I could live or die in peace and joy. By staying, I would rot inside in doubt, fear, and the knowledge that I had refused the call of God. It was settled in that moment. I have never looked back. Joy flooded my soul. Every cell in my body seemed to explode in glory.

The words of Christ in my mind, "If any man come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me."

I poured all of the medicine into the toilet. The swirling water of the toilet washed away my last chord of human reason. Only faith was left. I would never look back.

December 25, 1969 - The first day carrying the cross. A crowd of about 200 people gathered to see us off. We had left HIS PLACE open all night and many of the crowd had slept on the floor. There was my pastor, Reverend Gwin Turner, in a suit and tie; braless runaway girls; motorcycle and street gang leaders, some from the underworld; several Christian workers; my staff, and Dale Larson, Walter Wagner and Maxine, who were helping me write a book Turned On To Jesus, about our ministry in Hollywood. A lot of young people stoned on drugs came to say goodbye. Pastor Turner laid hands on me, anointing me for the pilgrimage ahead.

We took the cross from inside the building, spoke to the crowd of news reporters that had gathered. They were ready to record my first step. I knelt and prayed again, glanced around at the faces, reached down, took the cross in my hands, and raised it firmly to my right shoulder. Jessie Wise, a close brother, did the same with the other side of the cross. I looked ahead as the news camera rolled and photographers took pictures. The crowd clapped and cheered. I led them in a Jesus cheer: "Give me a J!"

They repeated after me "J-E-E-S-S-U-U-S-S.”

"What does that spell?" "JESUS!"

"What does America need?" "JESUS!"

"What are you going to do with Him?" I shouted.

"GO! GO! GO!" they screamed.

I raised my hand toward the heavens and stepped off. The walk with the cross had begun. I didn't know what was ahead, but I knew Who had called me, Who was with me, and in Whose power I trusted.

One would think that the physical struggle of the first day would be enough, just out of the hospital, much of my body numb, and the knowledge of the doctor's word that I would need brain surgery and could die at any moment.

Walking along Sunset Boulevard heading east toward Washington, D.C., yet another drama of near-death was soon to unfold. At the corner of Sunset and Vine, a man rushed up screaming, "That's my cross! Jesus is my brother! I want it back! It's mine!"

He grabbed the cross and tried to pull it off my shoulder. Now, I knew Jesus said if anyone asked for your coat, give him your cloak also, but what about your cross? I just held on and tried to talk to him. He appeared to be in his late 40's, plenty strong and yet mentally deranged and drunk. Finally, he stopped his struggle and said he would be back soon and kill us. He then raced down the sidewalk. I know I may sound strange, but when you come to Hollywood I may appear to be straight and conservative. We decided that the best place to be was any place but there, so we walked fast and zigzagged on different streets. Half an hour later, we had almost forgotten about him as we walked along Las Feliz Boulevard near Griffith Park. Then ahead of us, coming directly at us, was the same man with a big two-by-four with a huge nail driven through it. He was screaming, "I'm going to kill you!"

There we were: Jim, O. J., Jessie and me with a cross and a madman trying to kill us. This was my team to cross America. They would sing and I'd preach, and they'd help me carry the cross.

O.J. was a former alcoholic and nightclub piano player, strong and bearded. Jessie was a former black militant and tough. Jim McPheeters had been converted to Christ in HIS PLACE when his brother Charles was playing music there. Jim had just returned from Vietnam.

I had grown up on a cotton farm in Louisiana and worked in our saw mill in the swamps. I knew we could lay down the cross and take care of the man, but deeper than that, the man's nail could pierce me. It seemed the Lord was saying, "If you are going to carry the cross, are you willing to live in the way of the cross? Are these wooden boards in the form of a cross or a life to live with the cross?"

As the man rushed toward us, the words of Jesus rang in my ears. I said, "Fellows, we can't touch him. I've never used violence, we can't begin now. If we live, we live if you can't take it ... run. If we die, we die ... but we can't touch him."

The man started to hit me with the board. I was saying, "In Jesus' name, in Jesus' name," and did not move.

Jim stepped between the man and me, ready to accept the blows. Looking at the man he said, "In Jesus' name, I love you."

The man was raging. He seemed unable to move his hands, just stood there shaking, his face a mixture of hate and fear.

"Fellows, let's pray." I laid the cross on the sidewalk, wrapped my arms around it and knelt. The others joined me, our heads bowed. We were in the hands of Jesus. "In the name of Jesus, let this man know You love him, we love him."

I was suddenly praying in such joy. I know it may sound unbelievable to some, but as I prayed I said, "Lord, if I live, I live for You. If I die, I die for You."

I was free. Joy flooded my soul. Peace was mine. The Holy Spirit bathed me in joy, love and gladness from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. I was weeping, smiling and laughing. I could nearly feel the nail sink beneath my ribs. No matter, I was free. In a few minutes I heard a sound of weeping coming from the foot of the cross. I looked up. The man was on his knees weeping, the spiked board on the sidewalk. I walked back to him. "Sir, God loves you, Jesus died for you. Ask Him into your heart."

"Get out of here!" he screamed. "Leave me alone!"

I tried to talk more but he continued to scream. "Go on, God is with you! Take the cross and go."

We picked up the cross and walked away, never to see him again.

Each part of this book could be a book within itself, so I must seek to share the things that will give you a brief but true description of life as it is on the road with a cross.

We left December 25, 1969, with plans to arrive in Washington, D.C. July 18th or 19th, 1970. The walk would be 3500 miles. The general eastward route leads from Los Angeles to Phoenix, then through the mountains to Gallup, on to Albuquerque, New Mexico, across to Amarillo, Texas, over to Oklahoma City, then through Tulsa to Springfield, Missouri, and on to St. Louis. We would cross the Mississippi River into Illinois, Indiana to Louisville, Kentucky, then move on to Cincinnati, Dayton and Columbus, Ohio, over to Wheeling, West Virginia, and then on the way to New York we proceeded through Pittsburgh and Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. We walked south through New Jersey, Philadelphia, Baltimore and finally Washington, D.C. It took us about six and a half months. Of course, I had never done this before, neither had anyone else. So we had no idea what to expect. I'll try to relate everything in short examples.

The first day I started walking in sandals. This had been my common footwear on the Strip, but at the end of the first day's walk my feet were blistered. The next day they were worse. I had to buy some walking boots and, though they were better, my feet blistered, were bloody, and I was in terrible pain much of the walk across America. I wrung blood out of my socks several times; smiled, put my shoes back on and walked on down the road. It would be years later that I would find the best shoes.

The weight of the cross, pulling the cross and the cross banging along the rough roads had a great effect on my shoulders. After the first day, my shoulders were so sore they could hardly be touched, but I'd grit my teeth, put the cross on and continue. I bought some knee pads and put them on the cross to cushion my shoulder, but as I went on I prayed and asked the Lord to heal it. Before we got to Phoenix I threw away the pads and my shoulders have never blistered again.

"Jesus didn't have a wheel on His cross." How many times I've heard this. I'm happy to explain this. About a month before we were to begin our trip I needed to find out how far we could carry the cross in one day. We took the cross down from the wall, drove it to the Mojave Desert and on a small back road walked for a couple of hours with the cross. We discovered our speed was about four miles an hour. This way we could anticipate our arrival time in Washington, D.C. However, we discovered something else. The cross was wearing away on the pavement. Nearly every week we had to replace the long beam of the cross because it had worn off. Wood against pavement and rocks loses out every time. A wheel was necessary, not to make it easier, but to save the cross. We then mounted two wheels on the end and later I was to use only one.

Thirty-five hundred miles and 3,500 adventures later we arrived in Washington, D.C. It was my desire to have a great Jesus Rally. After a 24-hour period of prayer and fasting the rally was going to happen. The devil took another swing in my mission-a slight stroke, the only one I had since I started my walk. It left me numb and affected my speech. Friends urged me to go to the hospital, but God urged me to preach, so I began, haltingly at first, but then as if my obedience to Him was recognized, I began preaching with great power. Following this sermon God led me to fast and pray forty days, nothing to eat, only water to drink.

We set up home in the small grassy strip between the sidewalk and street, a place about four feet wide. We used the restrooms at the Department of Commerce Building that was next to us. At night we slept in sleeping bags. In the rain we sat on some boards we put down. Crowds of people began to visit us. The newspapers had told of our fast and reported our phone number. There was a public telephone just a few feet from us and I told the press that if anyone had a need they could call that number. If others wanted to help they could call and we would match the need with a provider. Soon the phone number spread and the phone was in constant use, praise God! Other people were coming to us in person. There was no time to sleep. We finally had to call for more workers so we could have 24-hour helpers in our ministry. Jim McPheeters stayed with us. Dale Larson came from my office in Los Angeles to help us and Leo Humphrey, my dear brother who worked with me in Hollywood years before, flew in from New Orleans to help me. It was a great team on the street corner and a wonderful time.

The hungry in D.C. came to get fed. We had parked our van nearby and gave peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to anyone who was hungry. The lost came to be saved and we saw many converted each day. The skeptics and atheists came to question or to debate. The Christians came to help in witnessing. Each night at 8:00 I would preach or teach, then share personally with people almost non-stop day and night. Again I was under the cross, not just preaching under it, or carrying it on my shoulder, but living under it.

Now let me say something about fasting. Many times I had fasted three days, once 28 days, and once 40. These are my observations:

The body is made for a perfect 40-day fast. I was in perfect shape during the entire fast. I lost about a pound a day. If a person is in good health, the human body has stored the proper minerals, etc., so that no harm is done to the body. After 40 days the body will begin to deteriorate rapidly.

Now, I'm not recommending a 40-day fast, nor am I a doctor. I am only speaking from my experience.

After about three or four days, the hunger pains go away. The stomach is coated with a chemical to protect it. There is slight bad breath. The worst time I have found in a fast is the first two or three days, and then it gets better. From about five to seven days there seems to be a great feeling or weakness mixed with strength, but after about 13 days the body has been cleansed of all the waste and it receives a freshness and cleanliness along with energy that is very constant and strong. The mind is clear, and thoughts begin to expand. With each passing day ideas intensify greatly and the human world around becomes less important. Thoughts get higher and higher. I can think on any subject as long as I want to without my mind wandering off at all. I can think, remember and explore all thought about any subject, and comprehend much better than normal. As a matter of fact, my two long fasts were the best time of Bible study that I have ever experienced in my life.

There are many strange stories people tell about fasting. They say your teeth will fall out... your hair will fall out. I've never experienced anything like that.

After my 28-day fast on Hollywood's Sunset Strip I ate fried chicken for my first meal. At the end of my 40-day fast, I went to a restaurant and ate roast beef. No problem. I wasn't sick. I felt great.

One must be careful, because the chemical change in the stomach produces hallucinations. Fasting is a spiritual experience. The body and mind are cleansed and cleared. The great spiritual leaders fasted for long periods. Moses on Mount Sinai for 40 days, Jesus in the wilderness, Mohammed, Buddha, Gandhi. If the person fasting is not totally anchored in the Bible, solid in Jesus, and filled with the Holy Spirit, I do believe the devil, by his demon spirits, can come in and possess that person. This is why so many of the world's religions sprang out of fasting. Long fasts are so powerful I would never recommend it to the novice, only those of great spiritual maturity. My two long fasts were both public, so it kept me in contact with the real world and I was surrounded by strong believers.

The fast and the prayer time with the Father gave me a burning desire for America and my compassion for the lost was expanded beyond human reason.

This 40-day fast on the streets of Washington, D.C. at the seat of world power was enough to crush the heart. The burden of the lost world gripped my heart. The futility of human effort was so clear, the necessity of God in our lives is beyond doubt, but the laborers are so few. Who will care, live and speak the message and life of Jesus? I realized that God had expanded my capacity and vision for the trip. He had taken me into the heart of America. We had lived with the blacks, Indians, southerners, northerners, young, old, hippies, religious people, atheists and preachers all had become our friends. We were with the rich and the poor, the drug addicts and the drunks, the educated and the hateful. God had stretched me big enough to have America inside of me, to feel its dreams and pains, its hopes and despair. I had a taste of the entire church in America, not just the Baptist church of my past, but all the groups, cultures and traditions. I was now seeking the true lifestyle of Jesus without cultural distortions. God had freed me from provincial thinking and had hurled me out into the world and this was only the beginning. For many, to cross America on foot with a cross would be their ultimate highlight. To me, it was only one stage of an unfolding adventure of life with Jesus my Lord.

Other U.S. and Canadian Trips-I shall seek to share the experience in North America without regard to the exact time, except to say that I carried the cross in the United States and Canada in 1969-1970, and in the late fall of 1974, 1975 and 1976, and have returned for special outreaches in large cities in America periodically since that time.

I arrived in Key West, the southernmost part of Florida, after a long walk down the entire state. A small group of people were walking with me that day as we passed a tennis court. I heard someone yell, "Love 15!"

An urge came over me and I called back, "No, not love 15, but love John 3:16!"

I laughed, waved, and kept walking. The next day I was preaching at First Baptist Church in Key West. When I closed my message I asked for those who needed to receive Jesus into their lives as Savior and Lord to come to the front of the church and we would pray with them and help them to make the commitment. There were several who came for prayer. At the conclusion, a girl in her early twenties stepped up with her younger brother.

She said, "Yesterday, did you go by a tennis court and when they said 'Love 15,' you called back 'No, not love 15, but love John 3:16?"'

"Yes," I said, wondering what she was leading up to.

"Oh, that's you! Thank you, Lord," as she grabbed me and hugged me.

Then she said to me, "My brother was playing on that tennis court. He heard you, then saw you with the cross. He came back home and told me what had happened and asked me, 'What did he mean, John 3:16?' I read it to him from the Bible. 'For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.' We talked together about Jesus for a long time and then he gave his life to Jesus. This is my brother.'"

And he stepped forward crying and smiling.

I was carrying the cross through New Hampshire during 1976. As I was walking along the roadside one afternoon a police car drove up with the officers laughing.

"You won't believe what we heard!" they said.

I smiled and stopped at their car.

"We had a phone call from a distraught lady who said, 'There is an insane man outside my house!' And we replied, 'How do you know that?' 'Well, he is carrying a huge cross and he is singing.' "

Carrying the cross one snowy, cold day in Canada a lady stopped her very nice car, rolled the window down just a bit and asked, "Did you ever go to school?"

"Yes," I replied.

"What grade did you finish?"

"I went to high school, finished college and went to graduate school for awhile."

She looked amazed, then said, "Don't you think you can get a better job than this?"

Live Oak, Florida-November 18, 1974-I had preached at a church on Sunday morning and that Sunday night I had driven to Lake City and preached at another church. I had left the cross at the First Baptist Church in Live Oak, and spent the night in Lake City with some friends I had met, driving back for my cross about midmorning on Monday.

As I came over a hill I was shocked to see a man coming down the highway carrying a big cross. As I got nearer, I could see it was my cross.

I stopped and said to the man, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm carrying the cross for Arthur Blessitt. He left it at First Baptist Church and didn't come to get it this morning, so I decided I'd help him."

I could see he was a bit slow, and I loved him dearly. "I'm Arthur Blessitt."

He looked at me hard then rushed over. "Oh, yes, wonderful to meet you," he said, pumping my hand and hugging me.

"I hate to do this, but we have to go back to town and start all over again. I told everyone I would walk every step around Florida and the people in town are waiting for me to say goodbye. Thank you so much and God bless you, but let's load the cross on the van and drive back."

Later I started off from the church after saying a prayer with everyone. As I walked along the street, there were some men working in a manhole underground and as I approached they were watching me. Before I could speak, one man called up to me, "Hey, what's happening!"

"Jesus," I replied.

"Well, we just wondered. I've lived here all my life and have never seen one cross on the road. This morning I've seen two. The first one is about two hours ahead of you and if you walk hard you can catch him before dark."

I arrived outside Orlando, Florida, the day Fannie Fox, the famous stripper, was to dance at a nightclub in Castleberry. She had caused a sensation in Washington, D.C. with Congressman Wilbur Mills. I was outside the club with the cross and spoke to Fannie about Christ when she arrived. The people at the club had tried to drive me off, but I refused to leave the public sidewalk. A friend, Carl, from Sanford, Florida, was with me. We received several threats on my life and after a time, as I stood on the sidewalk by the street, a car drove up with two men in it. The man in the passenger seat yelled, "Hey," at me.

I turned, facing the car that was beside me. I bent over to speak to the man. Just then he pointed a 357 Magnum pistol directly in my face and opened fire. I was stunned. My ears were ringing with a loud roar, the blazing gun in my face. I had stood holding my head as the car's tires burned rubber and raced off. Carl had fallen to the sidewalk, unhurt. I was fine. Only God and those men knew whether those were blanks in the gun or whether the bullets had missed me, or if an angel had deflected the bullets.

We stayed until 4:00am sharing Christ in a drizzling rain. I would not be driven off.

Another time in Florida I walked along the roadside when a pickup stopped just in front of me. Two men raised up in the back of it; one with a rifle, the other with a shotgun and opened fire in a siege reminiscent of war. I leaped over a ditch into high grass and fell, still holding onto the cross. The truck sped off leaving me dazed, but unhurt and alive.

A few months later in New Hampshire a man stopped his car beside me. I had seen this man around for several days as I walked through that lovely countryside. As I leaned in his open side window, he put a revolver directly against my forehead.

"If you don't stop this now, you are dead. Go past that tree up there and you die."

He slowly drove off, parking just ahead.

I may die, but I will not bow to intimidation. There is only one way with the cross and that is straight ahead.

We had faced this threat before and learned you must face fear, not run from it, or it will haunt you forever. We prayed together, bound Satan in Jesus' name. I lifted the cross to my shoulder and started off. The man was watching me in his rear view mirror as I approached.

I yelled to him, "Jesus loves you, sir. Bless you."

He was pale with rage and seemed to be trembling. Then he gunned his car and drove off, tires squealing and making lots of smoke.

I saw him several other times, but he never bothered me again.

**********

2. THE DARIEN JUNGLE

Ten years after God told me to carry a 12-foot cross around the world, I found myself confronted with one of the world’s deepest, darkest, most impenetrable jungles.

The famous Darien Gap faced me, approximately 400 miles of mountains, rainforests and swamps. This is the only place from Alaska to Argentina without a road; a place of five layered forests where sunlight often never reaches the ground. The footing is often wet from heavy rains. Leaves rot slowly and often you stand up to your knees in the decaying vegetation. It’s hot and humid during the day and at night it’s so cold you need a blanket for sleeping. There are deep, narrow rivers, waterfalls, rapids and rainfall of about 130 inches a year. Steep cliffs, covered in vines, grass and thick brush border the streams. Saw grass, which is sharp enough to cut you to pieces, is so thick it’s almost impossible to get through. All kinds of diseases, parasites, leeches, rabies, fungus, mosquitoes and ticks are everywhere. A six-foot coral snake called the fer-de-lance that bites feet and ankles and can kill is common. Then there’s the deadly bushmaster, which lives in trees and strikes on the face or neck, which has two and a half times the poison needed to kill a human being. Most of the Darien snakes will kill in a short time with venom that paralyzes the heart causing cardiac arrest. There are all types of spiders, scorpions and ants as well as wild animals like panthers and wildcats.

The Darien Jungle is along the narrow stretch of land that joins South America with North America. It has a backbone of mountains going steeply down toward the sea into mangrove swamps. The few tribes of people are Chocó and Cuna (Kuna) Indians who live along the rivers, but seldom travel over land. They travel to the sea and back in hollowed out logs called piraguas. The total number of people that have successfully crossed from the Panama Canal to Turbo, Colombia, probably only numbers in the hundreds.

There are no reliable maps available; cuts and scratches are difficult to heal; most of the water and food is contaminated and disease is common.

Now, I faced all this with a 12-foot cross. It is easy to take a ferry boat from Panama to Colombia, or even a small boat that stops at the villages along the shore, but to walk with the cross through the jungle? Here is the question: Do the unknown circumstances we face cause us to re-evaluate the call? Of course not, I accepted the call of God to walk from Mexico to Colombia. There was never a thought in my mind that I should go around by boat. There is only one way…walk!

Two men came from the United States to help me. I felt it was necessary, but I was to find out otherwise. I shall call them Tom and Jerry. Tom was a doctor who spoke Spanish and he brought along all kinds of anti-venom in case of snakebites. He had first aid supplies and enough equipment to perform an emergency operation. Jerry, a very good friend and a businessman, had accompanied me on another trip.

We spent one day in training at the Sherman Jungle Training Center for U.S. rangers, green berets and Special Forces serving in the Canal Zone. Colonel Hale Alderman and his lovely wife helped us immensely with information, supplies, good home cooking and especially love!

Everyone told us it would be impossible to carry the cross alone to Colombia, but with a well-supported team it was possible, though very, very dangerous.

The walk began from Panama City, Panama, on January 25, 1979, a continuation of the walk I started in Mexico City in 1977. Tom and Jerry were carrying backpacks loaded with supplies; I was carrying the cross with my backpack tied on the back of it. This is the heaviest backpack I’d ever had on the cross, over a 100 pound load, in almost 100 percent humidity and 100 degree temperature.

The story of the Darien walk could be a book in itself, so I will select highlights that deal with different aspects of the struggle. The following pages are taken from my Diary in the order the events happened.

We left Panama as a three-man team. I never considered it to be temporary; to me we would live or die together. There was only one direction – south to Colombia. There was a highway going south for a few miles, then gravel, then dirt, then a trail for the road.

Tom and Jerry had blisters on their feet and they were sore from carrying their backpacks. We did some good witnessing. Each day things grew more primitive. After five days Jerry told me that he did not feel this was his calling. We prayed about it and he decided to fly back to his wife and children. I surely missed him.

After Jerry left, Tom rented a truck to carry our supplies and he drove while I carried the cross as the road began to get smaller and smaller. The road finally ended at a river after two days of driving. I told him I’d wait for him to drive the truck back and return to me or we could leave the cross and I’d go back with him to turn in the truck and then we could come back together. He decided to go back in the truck then fly to meet me in Yaviza a village several days walk away. There is a small airstrip for private planes in this jungle town. He told me he would fly in with supplies and join me there. I was in shock, “Hey, we must do this together.”

“Arthur, we can go around by boat or fly to Colombia. I’ll be back and join you in a few days.”

I could hardly feel anything. I was numb with shock, pain and aloneness. How could anyone do this? For me, the question was never why, but how. There was no turning back. I might die, but I’d never turn back.

At this midday crisis, I had to decide what to take with me. What was really necessary? A week ago we had to have bandages, a first aid kit, snakebite shots and food. So much was necessary then, but now it’s all irrelevant. There was only one person with the presence of God, a big cross, a river ahead and an almost impenetrable jungle. Yes, I needed my Swiss Army knife, a hammock, two rolls of Jesus stickers, my passport, my money purse protected in a plastic waterproof bag, a tin of lemon drops, two canteens of water and my machete. I stood looking at Tom with tears pouring down my face. I recorded a message for my family. Would I see them again? This was a nearly impossible mission. All human reason was being cut off, only faith remained. I knew my children would understand that I must go on. I said a brief prayer, glanced at Tom and the truck. There was a road back – I could sleep in an air conditioned hotel room tonight or I could sleep in the jungle. Oh, glory Father, Thy will be done. I remembered my commitment, turned and walked away. I’d rather die in the will of God than live outside it.

I said goodbye to Tom. “See you in a week.”

I turned toward the jungle and began to wade through the water. Joy flooded my soul. It was me, the cross and Jesus. That’s the way it should be. As darkness shadowed me, I walked on.

From my Diary – I walked all day. Hot…so hot…what a day! Made it to Santa Fe. Walked from 6:55am to 8:30pm, 13 ½ hours, carrying my cross. I cried a lot today. I don’t know why, but tears just kept dripping and so did blood. I’m bleeding from several deep cuts. Tired, my back is hurting, my feet burn a lot, but I made it through and I’ll make it on.

At Santa Fe, a construction company village, the people welcomed with a steak and offer of a cigarette. One black man who could speak English told me he would find me a guide to Yaviza. The man offered me a place to lie on his floor. I pulled the mosquito netting over me thinking, “Maybe I carry on my back, feet and shoulders part of the pain of this world, but I bear it gladly. Oh, I love you Jesus, I’m so happy to be here. It is so beautiful to see the hand of God. These people will never forget that they saw the cross. Good night, Lord, thank You for keeping an eye on me.”

Well, I made it another day, here by a small river which is not running. It is stagnant. All day we’ve been drinking water from nearly dried up rivers and muddy holes. I bathed this morning with this water, but after four days without a bath I could not stand myself. Mano joined me today; he knows the way to Yaviza. He is a very sweet 20 year old. He received Christ several years ago. I out-walked him, but he is very good at finding and carrying water. The biggest problem I face is that all the people want me to preach. I do, but it is ten minutes stretched out. They want more, but I have no more words in Spanish. I don’t have Bibles or an interpreter. My heart cries out, I can hear the voice of Jesus crying out, “Who shall I send, who will go for us, the harvest is ripe but the laborers are few.

My feet are blistered and blood is flowing out of my heel. All I can do is keep going and not stop. I must go on. My back is in constant pain, my legs ache, my skin burns and my shoulders are so sore that if I touch them they hurt more. But, when I lift up my 12-foot cross and whisper Jesus I can start off again.

About dark we came to a small house by the river. The people were waiting for me. The lady gave me some beans and rice as the entire village gathered around. I preached and led them in prayer. As I write this, little Indian children are looking over my shoulder. Their faces glow and their eyes sparkle as the light from an oil lamp shines. This is right out of a book of yesterday. The houses in the village are straw huts. A bony pig is rooting all over the floor, frogs scream and animals of the night sing their songs.

This has been a good day for God. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else at this moment. I am following the will of God. I sit up hurting, I lie down hurting. Maybe I can fly. Sure do need a faith healer. Ha! No, I have the best. I cannot believe except by God’s grace I’m not sick. I tell you, what I put in my body the last few days would kill a native!

Today where we got water the local people would not drink it. I had to drop a pill of iodine in it and then drink it. In the house tonight I drank the water straight. The Bible says, “Eat and drink whatever is set before you.” I do, I pray and I keep walking. I’m still not dead. Lord, please help me to sleep. It is almost as hard trying to sleep as it is to walk. It hurts so much not to have a bed. Well, glory, I’m going to try it.

Monday, the fifth was one of the most incredible days of my life…wow! I was up at dawn after a night of shivering in the cold. I remember looking at my watch at least every hour. I didn’t even bring a blanket because I was trying to save weight. The lady we were staying with cooked pig or something I thought was pig, we ate and left. Everyone told us it would take two days to get to Yaviza. I decided we could make it in one day if it took others two days!

A small hand painted sign pointing into the jungle read YAVIZA. This is the jungle, no storybook tale, it’s for real! We blazed through, up and down dry riverbeds and through grasses growing so high there was no way to watch for snakes. But, being from Louisiana and as a boy being raised in the swamps I was used to dad and me rushing through the vegetation past startled snakes. This is what we did today.

I can’t believe it…it’s so hot. We drank twelve liters of water in the jungle today, all from stagnant holes. We met two men along the way who informed us the water is no good.

Once Mano and I worked and lifted the cross across a deep ravine overlooking a hole of green water. The cliff gave way as I was crossing and Mano was plunged into the green hole of slime. On and on we went, fighting for each step; banana leaves slapping us in the face and vines cutting us.

Pulling the cross up the mountain was incredibly tough, but the Lord was leading us. Mano is the toughest walker I’ve seen on the road, except for my late friend, Jim McPheeters. Mano hung in even though he could not believe my pace. I told him, “Tonight we will sleep in Yaviza,” but by 4:00 I knew it would be impossible. We were making only about two miles an hour and I was totally exhausted. At one time I thought I could not go on. I said, “Lord, I’ll walk one more mile, but please do something. I haven’t asked for much these past nine years on the road, but this is the toughest walk I’ve ever had and I can’t move this body much more. I pain with every movement, walking or sitting. You said you would prepare a highway in the wilderness, do it now, please Lord. I don’t want to sleep in here tonight. Bless me, if You please.”

Mano was lying on the grass, too tired to even care about the insects as they crawled over him. I heaved the cross and started up the mountain side. When I had walked a mile I was ready to set the cross down and stop. But I saw a trail and it got wider and then I saw a double wheeled-truck tire track and the grass was beaten down along the trail. I began to race down it. After the path we’d been walking on, this looked like a freeway. I was going downhill on what was still dense jungle. But, no doubt, these were tire tracks and they had to come from some place. Finally, I stopped and waited, but no Mano. I returned to look for him and he was struggling up the hill. I said, “We are almost there, let’s go!”

He shook his head, but sped up. I walked at a fast pace to get through the jungle before dark. As I rushed through the bushes my right foot caught on a vine and brush. The cross and the backpack on it pushed me downhill. I fell into a pile of grass and brush and the cross fell on top of me. I was stunned and my left arm and shoulder felt broken. I got up slowly and discovered I was only bruised and hurt, not broken. It was the first time I’d fallen. Praise the Lord!

The trail forked and Mano said, “We go left it will take us to the city, but least three or four hours climbing mountains.”

I asked, “How about right?”

“It goes to the big river, “he replied.

I looked at the roads – left to the mountains, right into the jungles and we didn’t have a bite to eat. Up and down, right or left. I thought, I'll follow the truck track and we can get to a boat. I said, “Derecho” (which means right). I walked full out open about four miles from 5:00 to 5:50pm. I was exhausted and in almost unbearable pain. The Lord kept telling me, “I’ve got it all worked out.” Suddenly I turned the corner of the trail and there was the Chucunaque River. I cried, “Glory to God!”

Two men were by the river and I asked about a boat to Yaviza. They said, “Maybe tomorrow.”

It was beginning to get dark so I took some pictures and then Mano came up and talked with the men. I stood by the bank and watched. A boat passed by on the other side of the river, going the other way. Then a motor boat made of a hollowed out log came in view going up river. I yelled to them and the boat turned around and pulled up. I had the cross ready to go. I said, “Yaviza, es necesario, (it is necessary). I pay you.”

The men looked at each other and I came down hauling the cross and put it on the boat, then jumped in. By 6:30 that evening we were walking up the main street of the frontier jungle town of Yaviza. Glory to God, everyone in the village knows Mano.

I found a hotel room, much as you might expect in a small town, but nonetheless a bed. I washed from a barrel, but now I’m clean and then ate some rice and beans for a dollar.

I walked down to the river and talked with the women washing clothes. Little children every where were sick, they had bad sores and their teeth were rotted out. The mothers had me pray for the children. I cried inside. This is where we need faith healers with all their miracle services – out where the people are really sick, not in front of television cameras, dressed in expensive suits and ties or in an air conditioned hotel with a “mighty miracle” service or at the civic center. The poor and the sick need help. God have mercy. Jesus said, “The poor you have with you always.” How true! What can I say? The world is full of sickness, injustice, disease, poverty and death…yet there is another world of fullness and well-off people. We see the deep ravages of sin and its effect upon the world and everything in it. How it must grieve God, yet in His inexplicable way He allows this to happen, for He is God. I only wish I saw more instant healing but we probably couldn’t stand it.

A missionary family lives here. I stayed with them. They are wonderful. The jungle airstrip is nearby and Tom is supposed to fly in today. The roar of an airplane engine gave me a mighty thrill. Now my interpreter will be here and I can preach better. No! There was no Tom was on the plane! Only two boxes and a bag with an 8mm camera! But, where was Tom? The pilot didn’t know. He used the airplane radio to call Panama and learned that Tom had gone back to the United State three days ago without an explanation.

There was a letter from the Aldermans in the bag saying they had said goodbye to Tom and put him on a plane. Not even a note from Tom. He had sent my billfold and the rest of my money, but he could have sent me a brief note. Jerry left me and now Tom has gone. I have the feeling I’m in this alone. I was shocked, hurt and crying inside. I couldn’t understand why Tom would leave without even a word of explanation.

My deepest hurt was that the gospel was not going out and what I wanted to do was to preach in all the villages with Tom interpreting and Jerry filming. But God has His own way. It was Him, the cross and me now. God seems to want me to do this alone and has put me face-to-face with Himself in a beautiful way. What a joy it is to face the struggle of life alone with God. This trip is for me, if for no one else. Like Moses on the mount or Jesus in the wilderness, it is my time of inner revival and refreshment. I struggle to live. How powerful! It refreshes me on the inside to make me unshakeable. Never a thought of not going on – only the question of how to do it, of which way to go. This mission will be carried out. I will make it through the Darien Gap with the cross!

The beautiful missionaries, the Grindstaffs, and a nurse, Maude Backker, had received me as a man of God, fed me, loved me and let their home be my home. My heart was also thrilled by their little six year old son named Davis. He reminded me of my own children back in the States.

These jungles are incredible. There are no more towns until I reach Colombia. Sometimes I think I can hear the roar of a waterfall, but I can’t see more than three feet in front of me. At other times, it’s clear for maybe 50 feet. Nothing grows under the trees. I see steep cliffs, ten to forty feet straight down and then a stream that may be only ten to fifteen feet wide, but on the other side is a cliff covered in vines, bushes and grasses that rise straight up. It is a challenge to get down the steep cliff, across the stream and up the other side. Time and time again the vine I was using broke and I’d yell, “Jesus!” and push the cross one way and I’d fall the other, praying I would not land on a rock or log or splash into the mud and slime. I didn’t see any snakes, probably because they were as afraid as I.

Often I could hear a noise in the trees, but couldn’t see what was moving. I didn’t worry about food. I fasted for 40 days once, so it takes the fear of hunger away. I figured that even with the energy used in the jungle, I could go for weeks without food. I think the reason people starve to death in such short periods of time is that they are in anguish rather than content.

The walk with a cross – streams running to the sea. Between each stream was another mountain to climb and then down to another stream, then over another ridge. Near the sea it became mangrove swamp. The feeling in the jungle is awesome. Many people lose their minds. They can’t stand the pressure of feeling the vast forest, which encloses you. The greatest battle is in the mind and not to panic.

When I attended Mississippi College I made aerial maps to plot cotton acreage for the U. S. Department of Agriculture. This proved to be great training for me…a perfect sense of direction is one of the gifts God gave me along with an endurance that I must go on when there is nothing else.

As a Southerner, I always felt I could find my way by heading south!

At one village by a river in the thick jungle everyone ran in fear. The adults came back as I played with the small children. The houses were built high up from the ground on poles. The men and women only wore small “G” strings. My heart was broken that I could not speak to them. When I spoke Spanish they did not respond. I wanted to preach. It is my passion. But how? I felt the Lord wanted me to do drama and show the crucifixion. With most of the Indians sitting on the ground all around me and a few standing I leaned the cross against one of the houses. Then I put my hands up and showed them how the nails were driven in. They didn’t have any nails, only cords, but I tried to explain. I was speaking in Spanish and English. “Oh, Lord, I don’t mind struggling my way through the jungle, but I want them to understand,” I prayed.

Tears flowed from my eyes, I was in agony. The reality of what had happened at Calvary seemed so powerfully real I could hardly stand it. The Lord had me with my hands outstretched upon the cross crying. I was exhausted, wet with sweat and dirty, a machete strapped to my side, “Oh, Jesus, help them, oh, God.” I opened my eyes after a while and in front of me was an old lady with no teeth. She was crying, tears running down her cheeks. Then others began to cry. Soon the entire village was weeping. The glory had come.

I went to the children and began to say, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” touching their beautiful little faces and finally one of the children said, “Jesus.” I leaped with joy. Others then began to say, “Jesus.” And then I would shout, “Jesus,” and all of them would repeat it. I’d point to the cross, “Jesus,” and then point toward heaven, “Jesus,” then toward my heart and their hearts, “Jesus.” Their faces covered in tears and their love will be my constant companion. Only God knows what they understood, but we were one. This drama became my common means of witnessing.

February 9^th- Tonight I sleep in house on high poles in a primitive Indian village. As I lie here I can see the faces of the people watching me. The entire village is sitting nearby as I fall asleep. From the light coming from a can of burning oil I study their faces; the women are topless, the children with eager eyes, have perhaps never seen or been so close to a white man. It is wonderful, but I was surprised when I came into this primitive village…there were several cases of empty Coco Cola bottles!

Today I heard the sound of a motor much like the noise of a power chainsaw. Was I hallucinating or was it real? I headed toward the sound and called out. An answer came back in English. We cut toward each other in the jungle, and then we were face to face. It was a group of men traveling from the tip of South America to Alaska in two four-wheel drive vehicles. There were about seventeen of them and more than twenty Indians. They had support air drops; all equipment was sponsored by different companies. Some of them were reporting for National Geographic. They felt like Columbus exploring virgin territory; then they ran across me!

“What are you doing?” they asked in wonder.

“I’m carrying a cross,” I calmly said.

“From where?”

“From Mexico to Colombia.”

The men could hardly believe their eyes. Me with a cross! And I could hardly believe my eyes either – two four-wheel drive vehicles! We had a lot in common. They let me preach to them. I was a sight to behold: a headband, dirty, torn clothes, a cross and a machete. The gave me a meal, filled my pockets with food and then I went on. Later they sent me photographs and a letter to my address in Hollywood, California. The pictures showed what greeted them when they arrived in a village where I’d already been. Mostly naked people with little read “Smile God Loves You” Jesus stickers on their chests. Guess I was doing my little bit for morality!

I’ve been on the road for twenty-one days and I finally made it to Pucuro. I was received by the Browns, New Tribes missionaries. The Browns have been in Pucuro five years, learning the language and witnessing. There is a small airstrip, one of only two in all of the jungle. The Browns are such sweet people. They provided me a room and I took a bath in the river while she fixed me supper, with iced tea…wow! We talked and now I’m in a real wooden bunk bed. I have a lamp of my own and a bed with a sheet. I feel like a king with the closeness of Jesus. I feel I could look back and He would be standing there. Jesus, the Holy Spirit and His angels have been with me every step of the way. I thought I had the walk planned out. I had worked hard on the details. Everything was ready for us to be a great witness in the Darien. Jerry to film and photograph, Tom to interpret in Spanish, so we would have great rallies – preaching, teaching and singing. We had Bibles flown in, but then God seemed to say, “I have something else in mind. I’m interested in you, Arthur, you and me in here. It’s not what you do for me; it’s who you are that I’m interested in. It’s your heart, your love, your peace I care about. Not by might nor by power, but by my spirit. Yes, everything to make this a great success is here. The means to film, photograph and preach, but I have another way. You alone, the cross, stickers and a simple witness in this jungle – nothing more. Everyone will hear about the cross; this river walk is total. All will hear. I’ll use you in a simple way and I want you to just spend time with me. Don’t get so involved in preaching, witnessing, television, news, Sunset Strip and cross-carrying crusades that our time is lost.

It is so great and glorious what God is doing in my heart. He has stripped me of everything but the cross. As for my supplies, Tom didn’t even send my wrench. If I had a flat on the cross I couldn’t fix it. I didn’t even have a patch. (I went all through the jungle and never had a flat!) He sent me the weirdest things, but he didn’t send the wrench or the things I needed the most. Not even a first aid kit.

I can only carry a few tracts and a few Bibles. It’s just me, the cross and the power of God. Surely, I must look like a prophet out of the Old Testament coming through the Darien Jungle.

I ran out of water today and ate the last can of food for breakfast. Now I must live by grace; where I sleep, what I drink and what I eat. I must depend on Jesus for strength to climb the next hill, for His safety not to slide down a ravine and stick a spike in my body. I must trust Him to give me balance as I walk a log with the cross over a twenty foot ravine. I must trust Him to restrain the snakes – the bushmaster and the fer-de-lance – as I walk through tall grass and climb over logs.

I must trust Him that the water is not diseased, that I find a guide, that I don’t have an accident, that the cross doesn’t break or the tire go flat. Back to the simple – it must be God, for my Spanish isn’t good enough to save anyone and most of the Indians don’t speak Spanish anyway. It is all through Jesus. No great story appeal or the right moment for an altar call. No great sermons.

I have written a book, Arthur Blessitt’s Street University, preached and witnessed on television and God has now put me in this jungle where He has cut me off from all interpreters and has said, “Now be my witness; love, care and let the people see the tears. I want you to hurt, to cry and communicate.” But, I can’t get through. This is the way I feel, I want to speak to the people in the world, but they can’t hear me. I speak the language of the spirit, of life and of heaven. There’s a language of the flesh, death, hell and suffering. I cry, I weep, and I want to communicate. It seemed God was saying, “Look around at all the people you know in evangelism and in the ministry who are doing great things for God. Saving souls, teaching, healing the sick, prophesying. But think a moment, you know many of them personally and the home lives of the great leaders are but shallow shells; the real spiritual life is empty - you know this. Now what they are doing is trying to make things too big for me, bigger and bigger, but I’m not interested in their lives, their hurts. I want to heal their frustrations. It is a disaster. Yet they try to lead My people. I want their hearts, their emotions, their love, and their interests. Not so much their time or big plans. I’m tired of hearing what people want to do for Me. I just want people to love Me, to love one another – then I will do what I will, for I am God. Everyone wants to plan a Crusade or go somewhere, but few seem to have time for Me. Arthur, I’m more interested in who you are than in what you do for Me. The world will be blessed as a result of the overflow of our relationship, but some would rather talk about Me than visit with Me or live with Me. Who will wash My feet with their hair? Who will anoint My feet with costly oil? Or, who will give a cup of cold water in My name or place to sleep or visit a prison? Who will speak My name dripping love? Everything must flow from the heart of God or it is in vain, no matter what the result. The question is, ‘who are you?’ not the result. We’ve come to believe that the end justifies the means in Christian circles. That if people are being saved, we believe it’s a successful ministry.”

Look at the size of that church, God must be blessing it. Not so, for Paul said, "Lest as I preach Christ I myself be a castaway.” Oh, Lord keep coming, I’m hearing you clearly. Tune me in; I don’t want to miss anything you are saying.

“What I’m asking you to do is obey Me, love Me, and follow Me. You don't have to be successful; you don’t have to have a bigger or better story that ever before, just be My disciple today. Sometimes I teach you, sometimes you share it. Always you live it. You have come this far by obeying Me, loving Me and doing the simple things. The Sunset Strip was the story of little things, like taking drunks home, spending hours with runaways and drug addicts. The walk has been one step at a time, day by day, not with television following you, or a book or fame. You are now tempted to try to force success. You haven’t done it, but you are close. You must succeed, you are the expert. All the people want something. The pressure is to give it to them. But, no, I want you the way you are. Simple, complete and powerful. I don’t want you to have to be captured on film or spoken of on television or reported in the newspapers. Do everything only for me, for the good of the people – only for the good – not for the glory or the fame. Interest will follow, not because you tried to get it, but it will be because I did it.

“Like the other day in the heart of the jungle. I got you on television and you will be in a book or magazine. You are in My will, you have not gone astray. But be warned – stop and clear everything else from your mind. Serve only Me. Do it only for Me. Let that be the criteria and I will use you to shake the world.”

You see, when you are well-known, you are always tempted to tell a great story. You’ve always got to have success. That is what has happened to many evangelists. They feel they must have more conversions this month than last month. They feel if they give an invitation they can’t afford for anyone not to come forward. After all, they are on television and viewers will think they aren’t getting any results. People have been told that if they don’t help financially the work of God doesn’t get done. You know the whole financial thing – we need more stations and we need more money to ‘help save the world.’ A healing evangelist must have someone healed at every meeting – he can’t afford not to, it would be such a put down. The whole ministry is at stake. God has to come thorough at this particular moment. He may choose to heal in the morning, but no, He has to do it at 9:00 at night after the invitation. If no one is healed the evangelist must find some kind of stretch, so the whole ministry has become unethical in the sense that a few high points are being emphasized.

As for prophecy – there are not enough things happening that there are totally new revelations every day. There isn’t enough in the Bible to fulfill all of them, but most of the prophecy teachers have to come up with something new every week. It is conjuring up a new prophecy because of a weekly television show. The same old ones can’t be repeated time after time. All of Christianity has been caught up with this struggle and God is teaching me – you are the same. You tell them how to witness because you wrote a book. There is only one constant and that is…loving God!

I love you my Lord, my way, my life, my sunshine, my day, my night, my Father. You give all glory, not that I try to glorify You, You are all glory. It is just that I pray Your glory is reflected in my life. Having You in me so that the glory is from You and to You and I am blessed in the process of being in between.

This is powerful! We are caught in between. His glory comes down and we reflect it back. See, we are not really working it up, glorifying Him. He is all glory…we just reflect a little of it.

Oh, thank you Lord for caring about me enough to teach me more, to reveal more to me. I thank You that I am not as a machine producing decisions for Christ, not just a tool for You to use, but You are interested in our relationship, not what I am doing for You, but in me. You are interested in a personal relationship with me.

It is like loving your family so much that you want the best for them and you go to work; you want them to have a nice home and, television, proper clothes, good schools and a college education. You work, you take a second job and give all of your time getting and giving to them. Meanwhile you are neglecting your family. You are seldom home, and when you are, you are too tired to enjoy them. You don’t make time to play or spend time together and before long your life is wrapped up in what you are doing for your loved ones not what you do with them. You wake up and your relationship is destroyed because you did everything for them and nothing with them.

So it is with God. We get so busy studying, preparing, preaching, getting decisions and healing and praising God, doing everything for Him until we realize we are empty, our relationship with God is not really there. God took me to the jungle alone to talk with me, to cut me from the noise of others and from any selfish effort of my own, to get my full attention, to moisten my heart, to equip me for battle, to clear my head from the Los Angeles smog. Thank you, Jesus, continue to refresh me for witnessing. It’s like the Father said, “I don’t need anything you have. There is nothing you can do for me. All I want is you. I want you to love me.”

I want you Lord, totally. Gloria, adios.

February 12^th – A father gives a child a toy, but how it breaks the heart of the father if from now on the child loves only the toy and loses interest in the father.

See, that is what a lot of people have done with ministry. God gave them a gift of calling and now they spend all their time talking about it or thinking about healing or evangelism or planning crusades and forget the one who gave them the gift! You can see God is getting hold of me.

Lord, help me through this jungle. My body aches, my toes are bleeding. You, Lord are the only one who speaks English. It’s good Father for us to go on together from struggle to struggle.

I’m here somewhere in the village of Paya, just me and Indians with rings in their noses. I’m back with the Cuna Indians now. About fifteen people live in this house, all have sleeping hammocks in one room both young and old.

Oh, I’ve been eating a lot of iguana. It is good meat. I carry iguana eggs with me and roast them over a fire. The Indians fish from the stream, drink its water, bathe in it and go to the toilet in it. All at the same place.

When you enter a Cuna village you are given a bowl of juice to drink. All day, as the women work, they chew corn, spit the chewed corn into a big pot, add palm juice and let it set in the sun to ferment, and then they serve it. It is a must to receive and drink it. Spit, chewed up corn, palm juice…not so good, but prepared with tender loving care.

February 15^th – Oh, what a day! Nine hours walking in the jungle. Oh, my sweet Jesus. I need Your help. I cry unto you. This is tough, Lord, I almost didn’t make it. I was struggling, lunging, crawling, falling down cliffs and crawling up mountains. I had to crawl, pushing the cross a foot or two at a time. It was unbelievable. I slipped, slid or fell going down.

I crossed nine rivers today. As I walked along the bank of one of them, the bank gave way and I fell into the muddy water. What a mess! I struggled on. I felt like an ape man, it was simply a battle to survive. I cut vines and brush with my machete until I could hardly hold up the big knife. Vines wrapped around the cross; at times you could not even see the ground. This cross walk is one of the most incredible trips ever undertaken by man. I tell you, I’ve lived!

I refuse to die in this jungle. If God wills His power, I will make it. My heart is so tender, my mind is tough, and my body is in pain. But I am going to make it by God’s grace.

I paid two men from the village go with me to the river that flows into Colombia. It is only a small stream here and if you miss it, it is hopeless. There is no other way out of the mangrove swamp. When we got to the river I dropped the cross and fell into the knee-deep water utterly exhausted. I’m back to civilization – a pig pen by the stream! The ground is wet and swampy but I put some boards across the top of the pen to sleep.

I write this by the setting sun. Tonight I will sleep in the “Pig Hilton.” The pigs never slept though. They rooted and grunted and bumped the boards all night. They would even rub their backs on the boards. It was grunt, grunt, grunt, bump, bump, bump all night. This, plus all the sounds of the night and the awful smell. What a life!

Some Colombian men came by in a boat with long poles to push around the rocks and through the swamp. They agreed to give me a ride south for some money. After a while a motor boat came by. It was a Colombian government warden on his one or twice a year tour of the area. He gave me a ride on his boat. What would have been a two or three day trip was accomplished in one day. Hour after hour we would push with the poles through the swamp and when we got to a clean area the warden would start the motor. Finally we came to the big Rio Atrato river and then to the village of La Trevesa.

I stayed with some wonderful black Colombians for two days waiting to get a boat to Turbo. I think every one was converted to Christ. Finally, a banana boat came by, passing me up as I waved my shirt. I prayed it would turn around and take me on – cross and all. It turned around and let me on – cross and all. They could not believe I had come through from Panama.

All the area is swamp, there is no way to walk, and a boat is a must. Riding on the boat along the river gave me an unbelievable feeling; the sound of water, the vibration of the engine, the sun setting in the distance casting a red glow on the water, me sitting on deck with the cross, surrounded by bananas and rope. What glory! What a wonderful feeling! Oh, thank you, Jesus.

When we got to Turbo it was almost midnight. The boat stopped and anchored but I was told it was too dangerous to enter the town at night. Robbers and murderers are common on a Saturday night, I was told. You could see lights about a quarter of a mile in the distance. I said, “No, I go.”

Finally I paid a man $5 to take me to the shore. He and a companion took a gun. When I got off the boat and onto land a crowd of big, tough, drunk and doped men gathered around. After the Darien Jungle, there was no cause for fear, but I knew it was dangerous. I found the meanest looking man, shook his hand and told him what I had just done, where I had come from and why I was carrying the cross. I asked, “Where’s the best hotel?”

I then lifted the cross and put it on his shoulder. He was shocked, but the two of us walked into the center of the wild town, me with my machete swinging by my side, long hair, a full beard, a small bag with my hammock and those big black men. What a sight!

The best hotel was so filthy I hung my hammock rather than lay on the bed, but I’d made it. Glory!

The next day I flew in a small plane to the big airport at Medellin. Then I flew to Bogota, spent the night and on February 19, 1979, I was flying 35,000 feet on Avianca Airlines non-stop from Bogota to Los Angeles. I had made it from Mexico City to Colombia on foot! It had taken a year and a half. I was ready to get home. Tired and dirty but full of joy. All glory to God.

**********

3. POLAND

I can only pray that the readers can comprehend the beauty of the Polish people, their unshakeable faith in Christ, and their deep love and compassion.

I carried the cross there four years-1981, 1982, 1983, and 1984. The welcome I have received in Poland, and the understanding of me and my pilgrimage with the cross, is one of the greatest that I have known in the world! I can look in the eyes of the Polish people and they know me, they can see the struggle, the hurt and the living faith in me, and I can feel their struggle and hurt and see their battle for faith.

The Polish people understand the cross as those in no other nation that I have ever been through. They are not ashamed of the cross, they are true friends of the cross; they have enriched my life and taught me so much. Poland is a Christian nation. The year 966 marked the formation of the Polish state and the nation’s acceptance of Christ and the Catholic Church.

The existence of Poland has been threatened time after time; the Mongols, the Turks, Swedes, Russians, and Germans have tried to consume the nation, but the Church and the Polish faith in Christ has always rallied them. Czarist Russia, Persia and Austria divided up Poland in the 18^th Century and Poland disappeared from the maps of Europe for 125 years, but the Church did not die. It kept alive Poland’s sense of nationhood; Poland was bathed in blood during World War II, millions were killed in the infamous Auschwitz concentration camp, yet the nation, their faith, and the Church survived.

Since World War II Poland has had a Marxist-Leninist government, yet the Church is alive, vibrant and growing. Christianity is greater than anything in Poland. “Poland is Christian,” said Reverend Jerry Popieluszo, the martyred priest in Warsaw, who was murdered in October of 1984. I pray you, too, will feel the throb of Polish faith that is and will be shaking the world. It is reflected in Poland’s greatest gift to our modern world, Pope John Paul II. He is a mirror of what is happening in Poland.

At Heathrow Airport in London, England, I checked my cross in and they put a baggage claim around it, not asking a word. It was just like everyone was checking in crosses! I got on the plane. I don’t know if anyone can understand, but it has happened to me over and over and over again. When flying into a situation like Poland, there is an awesome feeling you are going to land and you don’t know one person. All you have ever heard is that the people have to smuggle in Bibles, and here I have a 12-foot cross, going in alone, and not one person to meet me at the airport. Nobody knows I’m coming. I don’t have anything, but it is one of the most glorious times because it is just me and the Lord. I know God is here, I feel the glory of His presence and in a sense, there is an excitement and expectancy in me that is greater than any other kind of living. I love to live at the edge; if there is anything I don’t like, it is mundane living, everything being secure. Many people say, “If I didn’t have security I’d die. I want security.” But, for me, I don’t want security, other than my soul being secure in the Lord, or my family loving me or my loving them. I don’t want to know that everything in my life is taken care of. I don’t want to know that I’ll have all the money that I’ll ever need, that I have all the plane tickets that I’ll ever want. I don’t want security. I like the edge; I like to wrestle with God. I like to live by faith.

This is my first visit to a communist country. When I arrived in Warsaw I left the plane and went through Immigration okay. When I got to the Customs officer, she asked, “What is this?”

I answered, “It’s a cross.”

She said, “Are you going to take it with you when you leave Poland, or are you going to leave it in Poland?”

I said, “I’m taking it with me.”

She wrote down on the back of my papers in Polish, “Brought in one cross, can take out one cross.” She then stamped the papers and waved me through. She was the last government person I was to see until I left the country. No problems at all.

What do I do now that I’m in Poland? This is my first struggle. I have found that most of the time you put all of your energies and prayers into the first thing ahead, and then when that clears, you look at the second. You pray about Immigration, and then you wrestle in the name of Jesus against every demon of hell that doesn’t want you to get in. I don’t pray about something way down the road or something that may happen a few days from now. You fight a spiritual battle of clearing Customs, then you walk out and say, “Lord, what do I do now? Do I start at the airport with the cross or do I go into the city? Where do I go and what do I do?” Then I stand, kneel or lay down. The Lord just said, “Go to the hotel and start in front of the Cathedral.” Just like that. Start in front of the Catholic Cathedral on Monday. I arrived in Poland on Friday.

I tied the cross on top of a taxi, went to the hotel and checked in, then went out and walked around the city. I met so many nice people. People are so warm and hungry for fellowship. I could feel the prayers of everyone in an awesome way. Paul and Jan had announced on TBN television that I was going to Poland. I had flown into Warsaw. No one was at the airport to meet me, no one but God. No friends. I am a stranger in a strange place. No tour guide, yet I have the Supreme guide ... the one Who created Poland, who knew every road that I must walk. Hallelujah!

I came into the country and in two days the head of the Baptist Church, Reverend Pawlik and the Acting Primate of the Catholic Church in Poland, Bishop Miziolek, welcomed me to country. Bishop Miziolek gave me a letter of blessing of the Catholic Church in Poland, saying I was an evangelical brother and for all churches and priests to welcome me in the name of Jesus, as a brother, and to help provide for my food and lodging.

It’s Monday – The unbelievable is real. I carried the cross in Poland today. The people are warm and friendly, glory to God. I got up at 6:00am and went to the Catholic Cathedral. There is a big stone in front of the Cathedral that is located in the old town of Warsaw. It has on it a date of 966, the year that the gospel first came to Poland. That stone was the beginning of Christianity in Poland, and for me today, it is the beginning of my cross walk.

I unloaded the cross, tied my on backpack and leaned it against the stone. A group of ladies, about 70 or 80 years old, saw the cross and began to cry and came up to me, kissing me and kissing the cross. They didn’t know me, they just saw the cross and I said, “Czestochowa,” and pointed south. I started crying too. The glory of God came down. It seemed like I was floating in a cloud of glory. People started putting flowers on my cross and kissing me and I kissed them, then a man came up and started interpreting, so I shared with them about Jesus and we prayed together. I told them goodbye and started walking.

I walked into Victoria Square and there was a huge flower cross right in front of the Military Headquarters and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The Pope and Cardinal Wyzinsky had spoken here. I went there and prayed. The newspaper and television reporters gathered around me for they had seen me out the windows of the Victoria Hotel.

I walked through the streets and saw long lines at the stores. During this time there was a food shortage in the city and there were long lines going one block, two blocks, sometimes longer... people were trying to buy sugar, cigarettes, chocolate or anything; there was basically nothing you could really buy to eat except tomatoes or some other local vegetables.

At the end of the day I went to a hotel. It was one of only two or three privately owned hotels in all of Poland. I walked up to get a room. When the people saw the cross they gave me a room, a meal, and welcomed me in the most wonderful way ... all with love. The people were crying and welcoming me and feeding me. I finally fell into bed exhausted, but full of thanks.

Today my feet burn, my face burns, my shoulders hurt, my back hurts and my legs hurt, but I go on, smiling. Almost at dark my cross broke down with a flat. I had to take the wheel off as crowds of people came around. I showed them a picture of me with the Pope, and the letter from the Bishop. None of the people spoke English, but they began to cry and they kissed the cross and me. They covered the cross with food. It’s unbelievable. Meat was hanging everywhere, beer, bread, tomatoes, candy ... it is now so heavy I can hardly pull it and we are all crying. I have enough food to last the whole trip, but where do I stay? I think I’ll sleep in a field. I came to a small village and young people were by the roadside. They started to talk to me but we could not communicate. They wanted to give me a place to sleep, so they took me to the church, but no one was there. Finally, a young boy and girl took me to their house. It was 10:00pm when we got there. They had a dictionary and I witnessed and shared Christ with them. They gave me to bed in their living room. Oh, glory to God. I hurt, but I know I am where God wants me to be and I am with the people God wants me to be with. Hallelujah!

TODAY THE GLORY FELL!

I know it is strange, but there is a moment on almost every walk in every country when the glory comes, when there is liberty there is a breakthrough. Almost every time I can point to a special moment.

I was on the road at 6:45am and I did a long walk. Hot. I hurt so bad I could scream. My feet burned, my legs hurt, my face burned, my back hurt so much and my shoulders are sore. I had to hold my breath when I put the cross down. I can hardly start walking after resting because my feet become numb and lose feeling. At about 1:45am I came to a little town called Czerniewicr. The priest came to me on a motorcycle. He was so nice and wanted me to come to their village and to his church to eat with him. He couldn’t speak English, but I could tell what he wanted.

A group of workers came out of a plant and I gave them Jesus stickers and then went on into the village. There were ladies talking to the priest and they stopped, came up to me, and began to crowd around. I was at the church for two hours and there was a steady flow of people coming in and crying. The lady who helps the priest cannot speak, but she is so sweet. Her tongue was cut out by the Nazis when she was in Auschwitz. She cried and cried. I could not speak to her, but tried to. She fed me and then I left and entered the village. Crowds lined the streets. The poor, hard-working people, men and beautiful women, came to me without fear. Even along the roads the faces of those that were waiting for me were eager with smiles and tears. I was invited to eat and drink. As I did the crowds grew larger. Everywhere down the road there were groups of people. Men, women and children on bicycles were following me. There was a big open field and as I walked I could see people... thousands of people ... coming from every direction across the field. They were running toward the cross. I could not believe my eyes. People were leaving their jobs; they were coming on foot, on bicycles and in cars, on horses and in wagons. They were crying, smiling and laughing. It was awesome. At the edge of a wheat field, without a house for at least a half a mile, and a town further away than that, a huge crowd had gathered and cars and trucks were stopped on both sides of the road. I believe the traffic jam must have stretched for half a mile, it was completely unbelievable. All at once the glory had come. The power of Satan had been broken, the floodgates had come down and all the people were coming from every direction. It was a constant flow. The cross was being carried in Poland and now an awakening was exploding. Crowds and crowds of people were there, but none spoke English.

I showed the picture of the Pope to them. I could only cry and they would cry, and then suddenly I heard a voice with a British accent. I couldn’t believe it! A Polish lady had come on a bicycle and she spoke English. She had heard about me and had ridden two kilometers to find me. I explained what I was doing and then began to preach as she interpreted. The lady invited me to their farm. She lived in Warsaw and was on vacation with her family. Her husband is an English professor in Warsaw.

Finally I left the huge crowd and followed her to the farm. There, they washed my clothes and the crowd flooded the yard and all over the area. I had a hot bath in a tub and went to bed, but another crowd gathered, so they awakened me. The Town Council and government leaders had come to welcome me. They put flowers on the cross and I preached to them. They asked questions and I led them in prayer on their knees. For all the sermons I preached, at every one of them, I would ask the worshipers to get on their knees. Oh, to see their faces... tears and smiles... as they came to me. They asked me to come to their church for the 7:00am Mass the next morning. I’m not sure what they want me to do at the church.

Back in the first town there was a girl about 20 years old who had come to the church when I was there with the priest. She had finished work and while riding her bicycle she told everyone within hearing distance all along the way that she had seen a man with a cross. She called all the people off the road and was the one that had gotten the interpreter for me. She was the one God used to reach down and begin this holy explosion. She couldn’t speak a word of English, but was going down the road on her bicycle, yelling to everyone and telling them that the cross was coming. She told them to telephone everyone else. God had used a 20 year old girl to start this holy explosion. The Lord at this moment in time had broken through. He used a priest, a girl, a sore foot and a tired cross carrier. I wish someone could have witnessed all that happened today. I’ve never read in anyone else’s life such glorious things as I see with my own eyes.

Lord, I can’t say what you have in mind, but I just ask You to continue until Poland is shaken for Christ. I fall asleep in Your arms, Lord Jesus. Stop the aching, Lord, in Jesus’ name. Glory!

(I might note here that the 20 year old girl, from all indications, wasn’t even saved until we had the other lady to interpret and led her to Christ. But the spirit was drawing her and using her.)

July 9^th – Praise the Lord! This is one of the most glorious days in my life! I am at 10:00pm totally exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. I have cried all day with people. They have cried and kissed the cross and me. I have been with crowds from 6:00am to 10:00pm. I only walked a few miles, but I was mobbed by thousands, and the glory has come. I have never witnessed this exact response in entire world. The people are so unreal, and I’m so exhausted I can’t think. In all my time on the road only a few times have I been too exhausted to write. This is one of those days. It is impossible. I fell into bed. I like to think about what is happening, but I’m so tired and uncomfortable, all I can say is, “This awakening is killing me. Praise the Lord. What a way to die!”

I went into a place to get a drink today. An old lady used her ration coupons and gave me some milk. A crowd gathered at the cross and soon filled the restaurant. They brought food. I could not eat it all it was so much. The sidewalk was soon blocked, and then the entire street was blocked. Finally I came out and the people began to cry and kiss the cross and me. For almost two hours thousands came by as I moved along the sidewalk, then a Catholic sister led me to the church. We put the cross in the overflowing church. The priest led in prayer and I was overwhelmed that the people were so hungry spiritually, wanting to know Christ. You can’t imagine how happy they are to see this big cross in Poland, it is so unbelievable. The priest took me in for lunch and then brought me back out to the front of the church to try to speak. The crowd overflowed the church and it was impossible to speak to the whole crowd for there were blocks of people. The streets were full. People were kissing me. They were saying the Holy Cross was in the street. The man with the cross is in town. Everywhere you could see cars and trucks coming, loaded with people. Taxis were full. People were getting out crying and kissing me. Finally I got out of town and a girl who could speak some English and interpret went with me. She interpreted and prayed with the people.

Late in the afternoon I arrived at a village and went into a house. There the people fed me and the house overflowed with people, the yard was full, and the girl that could speak some English interpreted and stayed at the house. For hours, by word of mouth, the word spread and it was just wonderful. Finally I went to sleep on the couch.

I was in the Warsaw newspaper and people had been reading about me.

I awoke at 7:15am and a crowd was outside my window. I ate a huge breakfast prepared just for me. There was a shortage of everything. I had eggs, meat and milk. I didn’t want to take it, but they insisted. Outside I prayed with the crowd.

Finally I was off and there was a big group of ladies, many pushing baby carriages. Others were on motorcycles, young and old. I was a four-way divided highway and we take up one entire lane. At every village people have come up to the road and are waiting for me. You can see them coming across the fields. They arrive and begin crying and kissing the cross and me. I give them a sticker and they line up like at communion and wait their turn... like I brought the cross to them and the Church and Jesus. These are working people, strong men with tears; hour after hour, men and women crying. I’ve never seen anything like this. It is awesome. A flood of tears, the presence of the Lord is so strong.

A car stops with press people from the biggest newspaper in Poland, and a Cardinal from the United States. The Cardinal stepped out and carried the cross for a short while. He had heard the news of me carrying the cross. I arrived at a town and have been taken to the church. I didn’t know what was happening, or why I was at the church, but a man who could speak some English came up. The cross was covered with flowers and food was piled on it. It was unbelievable. They have even tied water on it. They gave me ice cream and tried to give me cigarettes. The stores are completely empty except for rationed food. I had more food hanging on my cross than on the market shelves. I was taken to the priest but he didn’t speak English, but he tried to question me. Then he looked at the picture of me with the Pope and read the letter from the Bishop, and he became all excited. He took me in and sat me at his table as the other priests were eating. They gave me a scarf, a little badge, and a number, and they were excited. I didn’t know what was happening. They took me to a room and were trying to tell me that tomorrow morning something was going to happen. Finally they brought in an old man who had been in World War II. He was one of the Polish underground, had lived in England and had helped organize the Polish Freedom Fighters. He parachuted back into Poland and helped lead the Polish underground against the Germans; he could speak English. He explained to me that the next day there was a pilgrimage going from this city to Czestochowa. I had arrived that afternoon, so everyone thought I was going on the pilgrimage the next morning. I knew nothing about it but there were about 1,500 people planning to go. He told me, “You just don’t know what it means for you to have a big cross in Poland. The people have struggled and fought to even have a pilgrimage. Many, many times the authorities have tried to stop the Polish people having pilgrimages to Czestochowa. They used to not even be able to carry a hand cross. They would have to slip them through the forest trying to get them to Czestochowa and then to see you with the 12-foot cross coming down the highway, it was just the most wonderful thing, they simply can’t believe it. Everyone wants to see the cross. They want to see you and your smile. They can’t believe anyone can be carrying the cross and be smiling and happy.

Today I walked 31 kilometers, I would have to say that this is indescribable. People were coming from all around Poland in cars to have a look at the cross. They gathered along the roadside in town after town and during the entire day I was mobbed. The people were crying and kissing me and trying to touch me. The Holy Spirit is moving. Everyone wants me to eat and drink. It is awesome. Not a moment of rest. They feed me meat. Almost all the people have just a little piece of bread, but they give me meat.

I am at someone’s home tonight. There is a girl named Joanna who can speak English. She is one of the first people I’ve meet on the trip that can speak English and that I can communicate with. She has become my interpreter. She is eighteen years old and from Gdynia. I explained the gospel to her as we walked along the road. She couldn’t understand how Jesus could love her without her having to earn His love. She thought she had to do something to get the favor of God. I explained the love of God, friendship of Jesus, and then finally we arrived at the church. I’ll never forget as we were sitting there, she whispered to me, “Will you ask Jesus to be my friend?”

I said, “Yes. Not only will I ask Him to be your friend, but I’ll introduce Him to you.”

We prayed together and she gave her heart to Jesus after I had read from John 15:15, “Jesus said I call you friend.” As we left the church, she took off her necklace and gave it to me and said, “You have given me Jesus and I want to give you something. It’s not worth near so much.”

I cried and she cried.

Today was like every other day. In the villages people were waiting to see the cross. They came crying and kissing me. Men and women saying, “Now I believe. Now I believe. I want to pray.” The priests were telling everyone about me. We walked through fields of wheat and grain, and forests, with so much love, oh, and I loved them too. They want to tell me everything, but I can’t understand them. My interpreter is almost worn out. The grace of God is all I can share.

A nation is being shaken by the glory of God and the power of God and the Holy Spirit; a simple piece of wood and a simple man with a simple message of love and a simple faith in Jesus Christ. It is awesome, but across this nation in a time of crisis, the cross is on the move and I’m nearing Czestochowa from Warsaw.

Glory to God! Tonight I’m sleeping in a field. Life goes on and today is like all the other days in Poland. I am under some trees because I want to be alone under the sky with just Jesus tonight. I felt Him tell me to be alone with Him. Maybe it’s preparation for tomorrow, but I must be alone for a time. I need wisdom for tomorrow and Satan to be bound and the Holy Spirit loosened. I have come to know why the people feel the way they do about me. They have struggled against the authorities that tried to forbid these pilgrimages, so it has sent a surge through the whole country to know that I am here with a big cross and that I’m walking with it. They understand the danger, the risk, and the struggle. I came by one church that was built last year in one day and two nights. The government had forbidden it to be built, so the people started on Saturday night, worked all day Sunday and Sunday night. On Monday morning it was complete. The police came, but the church was finished. Poles understand the struggle and they fight against atheism and understand my struggle with the cross.

Tonight I slept in the fields. God told me to sleep here and I spent the entire night with God and now tomorrow I will know why.

I was up early. I was wet with dew but I had a good time alone with the Lord in the field.

At a beautiful church there was a special Mass. I was asked to speak with Joanna as my interpreter. The glory of God came and everyone was crying as I spoke, the priest, the people, and the interpreter... oh, glory, what can I say! I preached, I prayed, I led all the people in prayer to give their lives to Jesus. The church was full of weeping people. I can absolutely say, without stretching it, that when I finished preaching, the entire front of the church was wet from tears. It was like a flood of rain where people had cried

As we left the church, the priest said, “Let’s walk in silence for the next several kilometers and remember what Arthur Blessitt said.”

All day there were tears and smiles, now they made me walk in front of the entire crowd with the cross. When we arrived at Czestochowa I was covered with flowers. Flowers were all over the cross, all I could hold in my arms, and other people carrying the flowers I couldn’t hold. There were so many. People were crying and kissing me. Many had driven for miles to see me and the cross.

When we got to the church at Jasna Gora there was a picture of a Black Madonna holding the Christ child Jesus. Her face is scarred where it had been damaged during the war. For almost 600 years people had been looking at this Madonna. Priests took me to the front of the church, right in front of the Madonna. They led me inside the altar which is reserved for the priests, the most holy spot in the cathedral. I laid all the flowers that had been given to me on the altar. The whole front of the church was piled at least knee deep with flowers. Thousands and thousands of flowers and thousands of people filling the entire church. Outside was the overflow. The priest took my cross and put it behind the Madonna to be kept overnight. Unless you are a priest, you are not even supposed to enter the altar, let alone carry the cross there and leave it there.

Several hundred years ago Poland was invaded by Sweden. All of Poland was captured except the city of Czestochowa, where the picture of the Madonna is inside the Cathedral. There seemed little chance that the few Poles could withhold the army of thousands of Swedes that attacked, but the Poles won and Poland’s independence was saved. Many attribute this to the Madonna inside the Cathedral. Then one of the Kings of Poland declared that the picture of the Virgin Mary is actually a picture of the Queen of Poland. In the minds of the Poles Czestochowa is like the American flag, the Constitution, church, religion, the Bible, Plymouth Rock and the Statue of Liberty wrapped into one. In many ways, Poland is wrapped in Czestochowa and what it stands for.

Well, if I were a liar I could not even dream up what is happening in Poland.

Up at 6:30am – I left the room and went to the church. I was mobbed by hundreds of people waiting for me. They were crying and kissing me and this went on for an hour before I could pull myself away. The priests prayed for me and the people kissed me. I can’t tell you how they loved me. All I can say is that in 12 years I have never had such a send-off... tears, food, chains and crosses. I arrived at the edge of the city and said goodbye to most of the people. They were crying, I was crying. I can’t describe it, it is too much. I’ll always carry their faces in my mind.

I feel I am gaining weight. An old lady gave me all of her food coupons. I tried to give them back but she wouldn’t take them. The cross is now covered with food. I can hardly carry it. Late in the afternoon I was walking along the highway and there was a small lake with white geese, lush green trees, a beautiful hill and a blonde girl sitting by the water. It’s looked just like a picture. You would never see a more beautiful picture with all the geese and the pond of water and this golden blonde girl. She saw me with the cross and began to run up the hill toward me like out of a dream. She grabbed me and was trying to talk to me, looking into my eyes and crying. Finally she led me along a little path to a house. She went to get me some boysenberry juice and I sat down to drink it. She was so excited. She was motioning to me and then ran off. A big crowd gathered around and I was there for a little while. No one could speak English. I cried and they cried and finally I moved on.

About half a kilometer later a car stopped and it was the same girl. She was with her mother, father and brother. They had come to get me to take me to their home. She walked with me and I carried the cross to their place, about a mile away. They gave me a hot bath, good food and we got a dictionary and a Bible and I explained the gospel to them. We all got down on our knees and I helped them pray. They were crying and I was crying. What love, what beauty and warmth for God to send a young maiden running out from the lake of wild geese and an old lady with her prized food coupons and all the people I left back in Czestochowa, crying and loving me. It’s just glory!

Today I walked all day and the girl with the golden hair walked with me this morning until noon. One of the most beautiful things I remember is that we couldn’t talk, but just before we left we were sitting beside the roadside. I drew a little heart like a love heart in the dirt, then she drew a little love heart. I took two popsicle sticks and made a little cross and stuck it in the middle of the heart. She did the same thing in the heart she had made and then I wrote, “I love you.” She must have figured out what it was, because she wrote something too, in Polish, and pointed to her heart and made the heart. I did the same thing. I then made one big heart that enclosed the two hearts and that is how we said we loved each other. She was crying and I cried. Her family arrived to pick her up and take her back home.

Today was a good day...but a long and sad one. It was cold, rainy and wet. I was carrying the cross along the road when a Volkswagen van stopped and there were three young men in their early twenties. They asked, “Are you Arthur Blessitt?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“God bless you, hallelujah,” they said. “We can’t believe it. What are you doing?”

“I’m carrying the cross!”

“We know that,” they replied.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

They said they were on vacation. I asked them if they knew Jesus and they said, “Oh, yes, we know Him.” And they began praising the Lord.

“We have seen you on television and are very thrilled to meet you!” they said excitedly.

I looked at them and said, “You aren’t on vacation, you are smuggling Bibles.”

They looked at each other and responded, “How do you know?”

“Listen,” I said. “I’ve been on the road for years. You have a Volkswagen full of Bibles.”

Is that a word of knowledge?” they asked.

“No, it’s experience. What are three young men in a VW bus, praising the Lord and on fire for Jesus doing on vacation in Poland? What’s your problem, you look very nervous.”

They looked at each other and I said, “Go ahead, tell me.”

They confessed that they were smuggling Bibles, that they were supposed to go to a certain point and leave the Bibles, but when they got there no one was there and they didn’t know what to do. They had been back to the place for three days, but no one had shown up.

“This is wonderful,” I said. “See that big smokestack up there? That is a town. Drive up there, get the Bibles out of the van and I’ll be there in a few minutes. A big crowd will gather around and we will give them all Bibles. Praise God, I have needed Bibles!” But they were very afraid.

“I came in to the airport in Warsaw with a cross and no one bothered me. I’m walking down the road with a 12-foot cross and you are worrying about smuggling Bibles. Just get out in the middle of town and give them out.” They were so afraid that I didn’t even get one Bible from them.

Later that same afternoon I carried the cross to the concentration camp at Auschwitz. I went right in through the barbed wire and the buildings to the place where the horrible ovens burned the bodies of millions of people. I looked all around and prayed. Other people were there. They were deeply moved by my bringing the cross to that place. My prayer was that this would never happen again... that this kind of holocaust against Christians and Jews, and others, would never happen again.

Over and over I met many priests and nuns and other Christians in Poland that had been in Auschwitz. The concentration camp was not just for Jews, as many people think, but it was for all enemies of the Nazis. Millions of Christians also died in those places. Jesus, may it never happen again.

Poland 1982 – In 1981 when I carried the cross through Poland for the first time, Solidarity was very prominent. Wherever you went, people were wearing Solidarity pins. Later that year, the government recognized Solidarity as a legal movement, but in December 1981 they imposed martial law. Solidarity became illegal, so when I arrived in 1982, Solidarity was illegal and the country was under martial law. It was technically called a state of war. That gave the military and the police complete authority. All protests, crowds, gatherings and public assemblies had been banned.

I went to see the Baptist pastor in Warsaw. We had a wonderful time. We talked and prayed and cried and hugged. So much love and tears, for we knew each others’ struggles. I gave him some money to help him in his work and he said they could not come and see me off with the cross. He said, “You’ll be arrested tomorrow. We don’t think they will allow you to go to Czestochowa, but we are with you in our prayers.”

Sunday morning, August 1, 1982 – I began with the cross at Victoria Square in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the National Military Headquarters. Since last year the people have been making a big flower cross, but each night it is swept away. I went to the place where the flowers had been taken away and knelt to pray. Television and news reporters rushed over from the Victoria Hotel, and then I put the cross on my shoulder. I knew that a terrific struggle lay ahead, but I could not be detoured from the path that Christ had called me to.

After I had walked perhaps 200 yards, a police car roared up in front of me and stopped. Policemen jumped out, grabbed the cross, vans full of police and army personnel began to pull up. They arrested everyone that was in the Square. They took the cross and threw it into the bushes. I knew that I was going to jail and yet I walked out of there smiling and praising God. They grabbed my passport and all my papers, and with a policeman on each arm they threw me in the back of a van, and then they did the same to the NBC television crew and the other newsmen. They took us to the jail at police headquarters. The cross was lying back in the bushes and I am here. They have my passport. It is all in the hands of God.

We arrived at the headquarters and we were placed in cells furnished with narrow benches and bars on the windows. The police began to question different ones and after they realized I was alone, they began releasing everyone else. One news reporter who had been arrested was in Lebanon earlier this year when I was talking with Yasser Arafat. He is Polish and works for Polish Television. Others began to tell the police and army that I had been on Polish Television that very week. I was in jail on Sunday, but the previous Monday I had been on television from Beirut with the cross, Joshua and Yasser Arafat, so they suddenly realized that all these people were not there because of me, but were simply passing by.

One of the Polish ladies with NBC stayed to interpret for me. After about three hours, a man came in with a white piece of paper and wanted me to sign it. I was afraid to sign it without somebody explaining it, but he said’ “Oh, you are very famous in Poland and he wants your autograph. You have been on television.”

The leaders of the police and army came and told me they didn’t realize the man they had seen on their television from Lebanon was the same man carrying the cross in Victoria Square. They apologized and said they were very sorry, there was no problem.

“You are free in Poland to carry the cross anywhere you want to and at any time. Poland is your land, it is your home, and you are free to go.”

They brought in my backpack and wanted me to check everything to make sure nothing was missing. I said, “Well, what’s going to happen if I get to the next town and a crowd comes around, and then I’ll be going to jail again.” But they said, “No, we have alerted all the police, and military between here and Czestochowa. No one will bother you. You are completely free.” They said there were some disturbances by lawless elements in Warsaw and for my safety; they wanted me to start at the edge of the city, outside the city limits.

“Well,” I said. “I’d like to ride back to where I was stopped.”

But again they said there were some very unruly elements and they wanted me to start at the edge of the city for my safety.

I sat there for a while, drank coffee and ate cookies and talked with military and police officials. Then a police car took me out to the edge of the city. In a little while an army truck came up. My cross was on the back and the soldiers unloaded it, leaned it against a tree, and the police and army waved goodbye. Four hours earlier I had been arrested and put in jail under martial law. It looked like the walk on this trip was finished, but now I’m standing on the roadside with my cross and my backpack, all glory to God! I now had permission from the top of the government all the way to Czestochowa. Come back any time you want, even though we’re under martial law you are free to walk and to preach. All glory to God. He wants the cross on the road to Czestochowa. The Lord did it again!

I tied the backpack on the cross and started off down Highway E-82. People had seen me on television and stopped me as I walked. I ate at a home and then moved on up the road again. Finally I got to the George Hotel where I stayed last year and the lady was so glad to see me back. She had seen Joshua and me on television from Beirut. She gave me a room, I had a good dinner, and was in bed by 7:30. I was exhausted! I am here in Poland with the cross, on the road and free. What else can I say? I defy anyone to say that this was all by chance.

God sent me to Beirut, Lebanon, from there I was on Polish television twice to provide exposure and witness that He might use it today to keep me out of jail and do the Polish walk with the cross. Only time will tell what else, but I do believe that without the trip to Beirut it would not have been possible to carry the cross to Czestochowa. I am tired, exhausted and happy, like my first night in Beirut. What a summer... unreal, but glorious. I have been ready for it, I am ready to count for Christ. I’m ready to get to the front line and go for it.

Sure wish I had someone to talk to. Oh, yes, I do talk to You, Lord, and spend hour after hour with You. At the police station I was in the presence of God, not fearful but praying, trusting that everything would work out His way. If He wanted me to go to Czestochowa, He would do it. If He didn’t, then not. I totally trust Him. Like Lebanon. He had to do it all to get me into Lebanon, to get me into West Beirut, to get me to Yasser Arafat and then to get me here. Good night, Lord. I love you. Arthur Blessitt.

It’s good to be here in Poland. I am sleeping in a barn, after a good day. It has been wonderful... just great! Crowds in every village along the way. I went to church and left a gift of about $25 for the priest. The priest came to me and wanted to give it back. He said, “It’s too much, people only give a few cents.” Unbelievable. I spent a half-hour with him trying to get him to keep it. It is so good to see Jesus at work in this land, it’s great. Crowds are everywhere, just like last year.

Joanna arrived to interpret for me again this year. Her brother and a number of friends are with her.

Poland 1983 –Tens of thousands of people are walking along the highway, mile after mile, children, old people, babies in carriages, people leading the blind, families, and young people all in a massive movement. Over 60,000 people walking form Warsaw to Czestochowa, a distance of about 160 miles. It takes ten days for the pilgrimage to arrive. For hundreds of years pilgrimages have been made from all over Poland to Czestochowa. They have grown massively in recent years. There are now 17 groups that go from Warsaw, with priests watching over them and leading in the teaching and singing. Groups are organized within each group so that they can better sleep, get food, etc. About 20 miles of walking is done each day. Public address systems stretch for several hundred yards and then there will be another public address system, so one group may be singing while another one may have a speaker, and this goes on each day all day.

I have walked around the world, but this is a new experience for me. Joshua and I arrived in Poland again with many gifts of supplies and money. We rented a car and drove to see my friends and give help to them. We had driven to Poland in our car earlier this year with food, clothes and black cloth for priests’ robes and money. Joshua and I returned to Warsaw to join the big pilgrimage. We were with Group 17 in color yellow-white-yellow. Each smaller group within the main group has a color. Our priest was called Swan or Elephant. He spoke no English, but many in his group did, for it is made up of the Catholic Intelligence Club, a very highly educated group. Swan is a Jesuit priest and one of the most Christ-like and loving men I have ever met in my entire life, always smiling and loving Jesus with such passion. He was about to leave the priesthood when Jesus changed his life and made him new and filled him with the Holy Spirit, giving him this love and tenderness.

A great crowd met at St. Ann’s Church at the edge of the Old City in Warsaw and we began walking through the streets. At least three-quarters of a million people lined the streets crying, weeping and clapping. The newspapers and television strangely concentrated on Joshua and me. Almost everyone knew us from the Polish television and from the newspapers over the past two years.

Today glory fell! We were going along a stretch of dirt trail which was very dusty (many people were wearing handkerchiefs over their noses). Many of the people had been deeply moved as Joshua and I carried the cross. They had wanted to carry the cross themselves. So I said to priest Swan, “So many of your people have wanted to carry the cross, they can carry it through this area.”

It is an area where traditionally the pilgrims meditate upon the Stations of the Cross... of Christ carrying the cross. The priest will say something about each station during the long six-mile walk in this dirty dusty area. Tears came to his eyes as I said, “I am carrying the cross through Poland to stand with you and your love for Christ and I want the people to have joy in this group, to carry the cross, too, as we remember the Stations of the Cross and what Christ did when He died for us.”

When told they could carry the cross the people rushed for it until it was impossible for only one to carry it. The cross was lifted off the ground. There were probably 20 or 30 people holding it at arm’s length in the air. They were crying and other people were crying as the priest began to mention one station of the cross. After a bit, Swan was inspired to ask those who had been in prison during martial law and recently released to carry the cross. These people grabbed the cross. They were crying. After a few minutes he asked all the priests in our group to carry the cross. Then he asked all the mothers to carry the cross and then other groups of people. Joshua’s cross was also carried in the same way. When we got to the end of the dusty dirty area everyone stopped to rest for awhile. People came up to me and thanked me, and then I asked if I could say a few words to the people to express my thanks for what they had done and my love for them.

Many people had gotten their hands on the cross during this six-mile walk through all the dust as we were remembering Jesus. The priest read from the Bible what happened at all the Stations of the Cross.

This was the third day of the pilgrimage and I had not spoken to any group. Maybe a thousand people were sitting around as I took the microphone and started to tell them what the cross meant to me. What Jesus meant and how happy I was to be in Poland and to see their love for the cross. I began to tell them that in the previous two years I had found many people who loved the cross, who loved Christ, but did not know Him personally. It was possible to know Him, not only to carry the cross for a few steps through the dirt, but you can carry the living Christ in your heart forever. I shared how one could open their heart and Jesus would come in. You can believe in Him and receive Him now. I shared the gospel and asked everyone who wanted Jesus to come into their hearts to pray.

“This is a pilgrimage to Czestochowa,” I said. “But in a few days it will end, but there will be another pilgrimage....the pilgrimage of life with Christ. It doesn’t ever have to end... it can get better every day. It’s not a temporary pilgrimage, but it is one that is forever. If you would like to join this pilgrimage for all eternity, then let’s pray together.”

I asked them to kneel. Everyone did including the priests. They were crying and so was I as I led them in a prayer to receive Jesus. When I finished praying the people just fell into my arms. It was one of the most unbelievable things people were crying and holding on to me.

As we continued the walk, people were still holding on to me, crying and saying, “Now I know Jesus, I feel Jesus in my life.”

Priests were coming up and saying, “Thank you. We feel Christ is with us now.”

It was just unbelievable! Then that night other people came to me and they asked, “Would you speak to our group?”

I made one of the best decisions that I have ever made in Poland. I felt impressed of the Lord to say that priests must invite me personally, or write me a note before I could go. On my previous walks in Poland, when I went through a town, the priest would come out and invite me. I never invited myself. The next day the priests began to come and ask me to speak to their group. They would ask the same wonderful question, “Would you tell us what you know about Jesus?”

A lot of people in America want to hear my stories. People in Poland always want to hear what I know about Jesus. They aren’t caught up in my stories, they want to know about Christ. The priest would also ask, “Would you please pray that special prayer?”

And I’d ask, “Which special prayer?”

They’d say, “The special prayer you say at the end of your talk about Jesus coming into your heart and living in your life. We need that.”

August 10, 1983 - It’s so good, the glory of God is falling. I’ve never seen anything like this except in Papua New Guinea. When you read my Diaries, many times you would see these words, “This is the greatest day. It’s the most unbelievable thing.” It is wonderful to live when over and over you think it’s the greatest day of your life.

Today I had priests and groups inviting me to speak to thousands of people and I led them in that special prayer they all seemed to want, which is the sinner’s prayer. They are so open and hungry and there so much love.

Even into the night I was preaching and the people were crying and being saved. They have been singing and dancing in big circles, everybody with their arms locked around each other. It is just impossible to describe how open and how much love there was. I have never known such love before. It’s glorious! Another day of glory, hallelujah!

I spoke for a total of eight hours today. As we walked along the roadside people were saved by the thousands. This is so unbelievable. I am talking and praying with people every moment. There is not a moment when people are not seeking Christ or to grow in their faith. It is the most glorious thing you can ever imagine. The glory and power of God, salvation and praise. You would have to see this to believe it. The priests are so open and the people so hungry. Everything is wonderful, except I am about to pass out from exhaustion.

One lady had me in her house for a small break this afternoon. I must tell you about this lady. We had stopped at a church for an hour’s rest when she came over and took me to her house. She had hot water on the stove and she bathed my feet with the hot water. She and her husband had dinner for Joshua and me. She washed my face, had the couch ready for me to take a nap. Joshua also had a nap. We slept for about 20 minutes and then we had to leave. Before we left I led the family to Jesus.

I kept teaching songs and counseling non-stop... walking, preaching and teaching. You can’t believe it. I go from meeting to meeting. This is it, what I’ve been looking for, and I pray, “Lord, don’t stop now!”

August 12 – Today it’s just a glory day, just like the other days wonderful. I’m tired but happy. Spoke to Polish, French and Hungarian groups today. It was great! Hundreds were led to Jesus, people crying and confessing Christ as Lord. I prayed with so many people as they received Jesus. It seems as if everyone is seeking the Lord. Really, this is wonderful! The only thing to compare to it is Spain in 1972, Papua New Guinea and also parts of Africa, but so different here, for there is deep conviction, the deep seeking and wanting to find God. I have never before experienced this in such a depth. There is something so different and special here.

The third night Joshua and I had a place to sleep in a home. Two sisters have been getting us a bed in a house where the group stays. We even got a bath!

In the pouring rain one day, I saw a girl standing in a ditch looking at me. I was dripping wet and a cold wind was blowing. She was just beaming. Much like the girl with blonde hair by the lake, except this girl had long black hair, black eyes and she was looking at me and the cross just like love at first sight. It’s a sight I’ll never forget as long as I live. She didn’t say anything, but a few minutes later someone else was talking to me and there was the girl standing, listening to what I was saying.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello,” she said. She spoke English but didn’t say very much.

That night it was raining. Joshua and I needed to sleep in someone’s tent for there was no room in the barn. We went to a farm house in order to get some water to drink. The lady of the house kept trying to make me coffee and I tried to tell her “No, just plain water,” for we were thirsty. Joshua was sleepy, tired and wet. Suddenly I saw a young girl. Her name was Magda, from Magdalena in the Bible. She was 17 years old and she said something to the lady and in a moment the lady came back with water and I said, “Oh, wonderful, you understand my English, eh?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Thank you for getting us this water,” I said.

Then she asked if we needed anything else. I told her we were just trying to get back out to the field to a wet tent and we were about to freeze. She laughed and said, “Oh, do you need a nice bed?”

“That would be wonderful,” I replied.

She walked hurriedly away. Joshua and I left and in a moment I heard her calling, “Wait, wait. The lady of the house has a bed for you and your son.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I can’t take that.”

“The lady wants you to,” she said. “She didn’t know the man with the cross didn’t have a bed, so we’ve arranged one.”

We slept there that night and in the morning when I saw Magda I thanked her again.

“It’s okay,” she said.

That night when we stopped, she and her sister Barbara had run ahead and gotten a bed for me. Every night for the rest of the pilgrimage we stayed in a house that the Lord would arrange for us.

As I walked carrying the cross, I stopped for a break and while I was sitting under a tree, a girl came running to me. She began talking rapidly. I asked what she was saying. My interpreter, an English speaking Polish school teacher said, “She heard that you know how to find Jesus.”

I kept looking at the girl’s bloody and bleeding legs. I asked, “What’s wrong with her legs?”

“Do you see that hill over there and the people climbing up it on their knees,” he said. “She has been climbing that hill on her knees to show her love for Christ and has been trying to find Jesus. Someone just told her that the man with the cross knew how to talk with Jesus, so she has come to see if you can tell her how to find Him.”

The girl, Anna was so beautiful. She had the most beautiful clear eyes, short blonde hair, and she was 24 years old. Just as beautiful as you’ve ever seen in a picture, with tears running down her face as she sat there with bloody legs. I told her, “Jesus loved you before you ever started up that hill and He loves you now that you have come down. All that blood was not necessary, He has already shed His blood for you. Now I know He appreciates your desire to show your love, but you don’t have to do that to prove you love Him. He can live in your heart.”

I explained to her how Christ had died for her and He offered her a gift of salvation. She could pray and invite Jesus into her heart and He would become her Savior.

Through the interpreter I led her in a short prayer. Before I finished she burst into tears, leaped into my lap and began to cry, hugging and laughing and smiling, then she jumped up and started to run away.

“Wait, wait, come back,” I called.

She turned and said, “I have found Jesus. I found Him, now I know Him. That is all I need. Now I can go, I’ve found Him. I’ve found Him!” And she ran away.

We arrived in Czestochowa for the third year in a row. Many people had come all the way from Warsaw and other places to see the cross. The priest speaking to the people from a large platform in front of Jasna Gora announced what Joshua and I were doing. The next day, over 600,000 people gathered. More than 300,000 had marched on foot to Czestochowa from other cities all around the Country. The priest asked me put the cross under the center of the very high platform. A wonderful priest, Gene, who spoke English and is a good friend of mine, had us sit on the platform with all the priests. When the time came to take Communion, Gene walked toward us across the platform, passing many other people to serve Joshua and me Communion first. In honor to him I made a sign like no with my hand. I knew he knew I was not a member of the Roman Catholic Church. He looked at me and said in a low voice, “You are one of us,” and served me and then Joshua Communion. It was marvelous.

Afterward, it took hours to get through the crowd. People wanted to see us, to tell us goodbye, to have us pray for them, to touch us, and to see the cross. There were literally mobs and mobs of people. It was impossible to walk. We could only inch our way forward. Finally about two blocks away we got to a hotel, exhausted. We put the cross inside the hotel and the guard tried to close the door to keep the crowds out. Joshua and I could hardly stand we were so exhausted. It is just indescribable! I know I keep using those words, but that is what it was ... indescribably glorious!

In 1984 I again returned to Poland to carry the cross. I had not planned to go back to Poland in 1984 because I had been there for the past three years. I have carried the cross in Poland more than in any other country in the world. I have been through Israel three times, but I’ve been to Poland four.

I received a letter earlier in the year from Father Herbert Cuma, signed by many other people, saying it is very, very important for me to return with the cross this year, to bring the cross back to Poland. They had been having a national struggle to keep the cross on the walls of public places, especially in the schools. I thought, if they were having a problem with little crosses, maybe I should return with the big one. When I repeated this in Poland, the people clapped and cheered. It was a very tough decision because the 1984 Olympics was in Los Angeles. It would seem the logical place to be with the cross, but I had felt the Lord telling me to go back to Poland and go with the pilgrimage again.

There were two very big movements in Poland now, consisting of hundreds of thousands of mostly young of people. One is what is called a “born again” movement of a real personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Another group is called Oasis, a very charismatic group with strong emphasis on knowing Christ personally. Both of these groups are really revival groups that have sprung out of the modern awakening in Poland. This is an awakening that is taking place in the country and in the church, and groups meet in the church many times during the week. These groups are sanctioned by a priest or led by a priest. They meet and sing choruses that are sung in evangelical meetings in the West.

Poland is my number one corresponding nation of the world. I write more letters, send more books, Bibles, materials... I don’t know of anything that hasn’t been delivered into Poland. I personally write all my overseas correspondence by hand. All I can say about this year is that there were about 70,000 people (more than last year) on the pilgrimage from Warsaw to Czestochowa. I preach every day, all day and into the night. Many nights I would have only one to three hours sleep. It was constant, non-stop.

One day I preached eight hours. What a day! And from my Diary I wrote these words: “What a day this has been. I spoke to huge crowds, the great power of God, the joy of the Lord, unbelievable. I am tired I have not had even a silent moment. But think of all the other times and places when I have been alone and no one cared to speak, so I don’t mind the output. I thought of all those other times when no one would say a word. Poland strengthens me and gives me so much, everyone wants to talk. I stayed with wonderful families. My biggest problem is that I didn’t have enough time in the day to talk to all the groups that wanted me to talk.”

This year I think the significance of being born again has grown and grown and grown. Many people have taped me speaking and the tapes have been played all over Poland. “How does it feel to be one of the most famous people in Poland?” many people ask, “You and the Pope.”

I have come in and out of Poland this year. Last year I was here twice, once to bring food and supplies after I finished carrying the cross in Finland. I have been in and out of Poland for four years and have never had anything inspected or any harassment. When they see me they know the cross, they know me and they just take me through. There is nothing but welcome. The churches are open, the people are open. I get letters from people, and they are constantly taking pictures. As I walk, if I’m not preaching, there is a cluster of people around me asking questions about heaven, and what to do about this or that.

The only thing that I might mention is that when you are traveling with 60,000 or 70,000 people, every time you want to use the bathroom there are about 500 people with you. You go to a bush and when you get there, there are about ten to fifteen people behind you. If you walk for ten minutes trying to find a private place, there are still people around, so why wait for ten minutes... just go ahead and join the crowd.

Everyone is dirty after nine or ten days on the road. Clothes are dirty and everyone is smelly. If one hasn’t experienced a Polish pilgrimage, they have missed a part of one of the greatest things in life. It is very, very ecumenical. They welcome all faiths and they love Christ.

Except for some small groups that want to fight, in this world there is only one real division either you are following Jesus or you are not. There are people who are spiritually dead and there are those who are alive, and if you are dead, it doesn’t matter whether you are Catholic, Baptist, Anglican, or Assembly, the dead are dead. And if you are alive in Christ and are seeking to follow and love Him, and are seeking to live His life in this world, you can hardly tell, on a world basis, a bit of difference between denominations.

Now, doctrine is important and I’m not trying to belittle the real thing of whether you are to be immersed, sprinkled, or what, all the truth is important. But I’m saying generally, you can have a lot of doctrine that is correct and go straight to hell! The Bible says if you don’t have love, you have nothing, you’ve lost it all. What I’m saying is either you’re committed to Jesus and seek Him and His kingdom first, or you’re not.

What has happened in Poland is that they have been through the fire of oppression and after years of atheistic teaching, Christ is still alive and nowhere near dead! Nothing could drown out the Pole’s love for Jesus and now they are seeking, more than at any other time, a closeness to Him and more knowledge of Him. Ten years ago it wasn’t as much this way. The crowds that are on the pilgrimage to Czestochowa have increased from 10,000 to 15,000 five years ago to 70,000 this year.

The decade of the eighties has brought unbelievable change in Poland, especially since the time of Pope John Paul II. However, during the crisis before them people began seeing the real values and there began a definite turning to Christ.

The people of Poland are my friends, my fellow companions in the way of the cross! In Poland the cross shall always be free. The Church shall not die. Polish youth shall ignite an awakening worldwide.

One man got to Rome and became Pope. Look out world!! Now, in a flood of glory coming from Poland, the world might be changed.

In October 1984 a great Polish priest and patriot was murdered. He was the Reverend Jerry Popieluszo. He was a friend of mine. On the way to Czestochowa, I spoke to his people twice. The last thing he said to me was, “Arthur, tell us what you know about Jesus.”

It is difficult for American Christians to believe that there is more freedom in Poland to carry the cross than in the United States. For instance, in the United States we have to have permits to parade, it is difficult to pass out materials, it is difficult to walk in the parks but in Poland you don’t need any kind of permit, they welcome you to walk, they welcome you to pass out materials, they welcome you to use a loudspeaker. The freedoms are hard to-explain. The restrictions that I feel in America are not just in my walk with the cross. In America we are not free to walk in our parks at night... In many of our big cities, instead of teaching our young beautiful girls how to be tender, how to have homes and/or careers, it is necessary to teach them how to kill an attacker because of the danger to their lives. It is not this way in the rest of the world

In Poland, people are free to walk at night. In Switzerland and in all of Europe, people are very free and do not need the protection that we feel we need in the United States difficult for me because I love America, just like I love the rest of the world, but America ... don’t stand in judgment with a superior attitude, looking down on the rest of the world! Let us repent and thank God for what we have, but understand what others have too. There is more to life than short order fast food joints, a car, a stereo and cultural hyped religion. Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Light,” and that is enough for America, that is enough for the rest of the world. If we could just catch on to this truth, then our life in Him would be secure and complete.

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4. A SUPERNATURAL WALK WITH JESUS

I don't expect everyone to believe this story. But, I share this experience with a friend who will testify to its authenticity. It goes beyond logic and rational explanation. I have never before mentioned it publicly, not in a sermon, witnessing, or counseling nor in fellowship with those closest to me. The agnostic will dismiss it as a hallucination. The psychiatrist as autosuggestion. The lip service Christian will question my sanity. Even the most passionate practicing church-goer will raise a doubting eyebrow. No matter! I put it before you with pride and humility, unashamed and without apology. These few words of prelude are merely a recognition of the fact that in an age of nuclear weapons, space exploration, or what ever else cannot be tested in a wind tunnel or laboratory or formulated on an engineer's drawing board is generally treated with skepticism, but the total knowledge of man doesn't bubble up in a test tube or flow from a slide rule. There are spiritual experiences that surpass human understanding. This is one of them.

I had been invited to preach a two week revival at the First Baptist Church, Lake Tahoe, on the Nevada-California border. Reverend Gordon Siler, the dear pastor, Ron Will was leading the song service and I were all about the same age.

One night during the meeting I felt a deep inner need to go to Lake Tahoe to pray. It was the awesome feeling I often get when God wants to speak to me in a special way. I asked Pastor Siler to go with me, but he said, "It's too cold. You might lose your voice. Why don't you pray here at the church?"

"No," I said. "I must go there and pray." And then I asked Ron if he would go and he agreed.

It was cold when Ron and I arrived at the mile high lake. Clear skies revealed the surrounding mountains and their snow-covered beauty. The night was bright and the stars sparkled in their own special way. The snow was deep on the ground with high drifts. Walking along the shore, we began to talk about Peter, one of Christ's disciples, an early evangelist. We spoke of how the disciple saw Jesus walking on the water and Peter asked Him if he, too, could walk on the water to Jesus. The story is recorded in Matthew 14:28-31 and tells how Peter stepped out of the ship and walked on the water toward Jesus, then became fearful as he saw the boisterous wind arise and he began to sink. "Lord, save me," he said, and Jesus reached and stretched forth His hand and caught him saying, "Oh, thou of little faith, why did you doubt?"

I had criticized Peter for becoming afraid. Tonight I was admiring him for doing something that no one but Jesus had ever done. He walked on the water!

As Ron and I walked, we reached a snow bank, so we turned around and started back along the shore when something on the water caught my eye. HIM! He was there, standing on the water! I shook my head in disbelief and turned away. Ron had his back to the lake, then he looked out over the lake and turned to me.

"Arthur, have you looked out over the lake?"

"Yes, I saw Him too, Ron. What's happening?"

No words can express my shock and glorious emotion. We both decided to look around at the lights and mountains. We were sure that this was not a strange reflected light or a dream or a vision. I wanted to know forever beyond any doubt that what I was seeing was Jesus, for real. I had to know for my own sake. I looked again. HIM, Jesus my Lord, still there - unmistakably there standing on the water, and now He came walking toward us. His garment was as bright as a fluorescent lamp, glittering, shining and sparkling, so immaculate and pure that it looked more like silver than white. Glory flooded over me.

Awareness of cold, snow, and doubt was non-existent. All of life was now. My spirit leaped, and then the most awful feeling of sin and guilt, uncleanliness possessed me. Ron and I fell to our knees in the snow just at the water's edge. My head was bowed and I could not look. Lord, how vile, filthy, vulgar and dirty I am. Oh, Jesus, have mercy, wash me, cleanse me, free me, save me from my vile life. Tears poured, my body shook in agony. I thought my insides would burst open in grief. Then peace, glory and brightness filled me. I was clean. An inner glow burst forth inside me. Joy flooded my soul and I was laughing and saying, "Thank you, Jesus, oh, my Lord, I love You. Praise You, all glory and honor and praise be unto You."

Still on my knees, I looked up. He was coming closer, slowly walking toward us, closer and closer. I felt I would burst with joy and peace covered me. It seemed as if I was beginning to float out to Him, then He stopped, stood and looked at us. If He had taken another step I think two bodies would have been found on the shore the next morning. Ron and I would have gone to be with Him.

At that moment I understood what death is for the follower of Jesus. It is simply going to be with Him, stepping out of the flesh into His arms, being with Him completely. This is not death; this is everlasting life, exactly as promised in the Bible. I also understood that I would never fear death again. Jesus and the will of the Father was my value. I had been set free from the opinion of men, the secular and religious value system of success and failure. Jesus is everything. You lose interest in earthly values when you have been with Jesus. He was standing only about ten feet away. I could see Jesus clearly as He stood on the water.

In the Bible His closest disciples chose not to reveal anything about His looks, even the apostle Paul saw Him and never spoke of His looks, not even the description given by John in Revelation tells us about His real physical characteristics, so if the Bible remains silent, so will I.

I have never spoken to anyone of this, but for years now every time I preach I look up toward Heaven and I can see Him in my mind. I know why I am there to preach, who is with me, and it is all unto Him. It is like He is the embodiment of all things. I could have stayed forever as He looked at me, then I heard the voice of Ron saying, "Arthur, I think it's time to go."

I can't explain it, but so did I. We stood, tears of joy pouring from our eyes. I was the richest person on earth!

I will continue to speak my words of love to Jesus, knowing I'd probably never see Him again until.... With all the strength I had, I turned to walk away, only a few steps, I could stand it no more. I could not just walk away; I wanted Him to bless me. I needed that. I turned toward the waters of Lake Tahoe again, Jesus was walking away. I cried out, "Lord, bless me, bless me." Oh, I wanted to see Jesus again. He turned toward me, lifted up His hand and looked at me. Wave after wave of His power swept over me and engulfed me. He was passing to me a gift ... more faith, more love, more belief, more courage. I was speechless. Jesus was blessing me! There is no vocabulary to describe the precious tender moments of that union with Him. Then high above, a cloud began to form. There was a glorious brightness about it ... like a fog of glory. The cloud seemed to get lower and Jesus rose up into the cloudy fog, then it began to dissolve. Not to go away, but to dissolve in the same place. Soon the sky above the lake was clear. Jesus was gone.

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5. POPE JOHN PAUL II

This is the story of how three ladies with a vision made history.

In 1979 I was preaching at a Presbyterian Church in Santa Monica, California. Three ladies, real sisters and single, had been praying for me since 1969 when they read in the newspaper that I had started carrying the cross around the world. These wonderful Catholic ladies had heard I was speaking and came to meet me. They were lovely ladies. I just loved them at first sight. They had prayed for me every day for ten years, now we meet. The prayer partners met with the objects of their prayers: Me, the cross, and the mission.

The Dorack sisters wrote a letter and sent one of my books to their good friend, Father Maloney, the head of the Paulist Fathers, saying, "Why don't you have Pope John Paul invite Arthur to come with the cross to celebrate the ten years of Arthur carrying the cross around the world?"

I didn't know anything about their request until I received a letter from Father Maloney saying he was extending an invitation to me on behalf of Pope John Paul II to come to Rome and carry the cross and meet with the Pope on December 19, 1979. I phoned the Dorack sisters and we praised the Lord together.

I carried the cross from the seaside into Rome, then to Vatican City, a small enclave in Rome that is an independent state. There, stands the largest church in the world, St. Peter's. The buildings contain many of the greatest artistic treasures of mankind, including the indescribable Sistine Chapel painted by Michelangelo.

First, the cobblestone Square, then I carried the cross to St. Peter's, and then walked on to Audience Hall, after passing the beautifully dressed Swiss Guards who guard the Vatican. Father Maloney was with me; a short, smiling man, and Mike Ooten, my American helper.

We left the cross inside the entrance and were led by monsignors to a special seat in front of the auditorium. The Pope speaks at Audience Hall every Wednesday when he is in Rome. About 20 other people were here to meet and speak with the Pope this day. Audience Hall was filled with people. The Pope came in the back, down the aisle, shaking hands and smiling. He then spoke on the subject of marriage, giving a summary in many different languages. After his message he walked over and visited with about 75 handicapped children and adults. It was beautiful to see his compassion. Then he looked at me and walked across the aisle to where I stood. Two priests were on either side of him. It was an awesome moment. My mind flashed with scenes of the past ten years on the road, now I'm in Rome with the Pope. His sparkling white robe contained one of the most incredible men in history; the Polish Pope. The largest crowds in history had gathered the world over to see and hear him, and here I was, a road man. Two of the most radical believers in the world were meeting.

Father Maloney greeted the pope and then introduced me as the man carrying the cross around the world, stating that it was my cross that the Pope had seen at the doorway.

"Oh, yes," the Pope said with a smile, and then he took my hand. "Bless you and thank you for carrying the cross around the world. Thank you for bringing Christ to the people. God bless you and thank you." He was smiling and gripping my hand.

I handed him one of my books. "This is my story of how Jesus called me to carry the cross around the world and some of the experiences along the way of my pilgrimage of life. Also, I'd like to give you this cross (it was about four-inches by two-inches). It's taken from the cross I've carried around the world."

I handed it to him and he nodded and seemed very happy. "I've carried the cross to declare Jesus to the world, to show His love, that Jesus is alive and the hope of the world, to deliver the message of the Bible that only through the blood of Jesus is there forgiveness, salvation and eternal life. I've been called to identify the cross and Christ with the common man in the streets. I don't carry the cross to get something, but because Jesus is already in my heart. I carry it out of love. Many times I didn't think I'd make it to Rome, the city of St. Peter and St. Paul, but now I'm here after all these years on the road, and I'm happy to meet you. You have become a mighty voice, testifying of Christ in our time. We must help everyone understand that it is not form or ritual, but a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, through repentance and faith that saves a person."

"Yes, yes, it's in the heart that we believe," he said.

As the men who stood beside him tried to move him on, he stood firm as I asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He looked deep into me. He seemed to be shocked. "What did you say?" He asked.

We were speaking English and I thought he did not understand, so I spoke more slowly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He was startled. "No one ever asked me that, they always ask me for something," he smiled. "Pray for me as you walk to Assisi, the city of St. Francis."

"Yes, I will, I'll walk to Assisi with the cross, praying for you, and one day perhaps I'll go to Poland."

He smiled. "Poland. Yes, maybe I'll see you there. I pray you shall go to Poland." He was smiling and laughing. "Oh, thank you." He pulled me to him and embraced me, his strong arms wrapped around me, and I was holding him. Tears filled my eyes as I prayed aloud, "Jesus, bless him. God bless him, protect him."

I could hear him say, "Thank you," and then he was speaking words in another language. We looked at each other. "God bless you, watch over you and use you."

"Thank you," I said.

As his escorts moved him along, "Bless you, bless your cross, bless your mission," he said, then moved away greeting others.

Soon, crowds were around me because they had seen the Pope and me speaking. I returned to the cross and went outside, preached to the crowd and led them in prayer.

As I walked from the Vatican my heart beat with excitement. The road to Assisi was ahead. Also, a taste of sadness gripped my heart, tears poured from my eyes as I smiled, patted my cross and started through the crowded sidewalks of Rome.

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6. A WALK IN ITALY

When I arrived in Rome to carry the cross I went to the seaside to begin my walk there. It was probably 20 to 25 miles to Rome from the sea. Few people stopped to talk. Most of them seemed not to notice the cross at all as I arrived at the catacombs. Here deep inside these caves outside Rome the early believers lived and worshiped. Through their love, faith and fearless example they became an inspiration for generations to come.

The catacombs were very significant to me, for here those people faithfully, under the worst conditions, triumphed over an atheistic government. Many times we think if our government took away tax deductions, or if the government did this or that the church would fail in America. We think we must have these rights or we can't exist. What foolishness! I mean, it is good to have liberty, but if it all went away, the gospel would go on. The church is not dependent upon government for survival. When a leader of the government claimed to be God and when it was illegal to even speak the name of Jesus, the church was triumphant. Our survival is not based upon democracy. If democracy fails, the church will still prevail. We are not threatened even by atheistic communism. I've been to enough communist countries to testify that it doesn't destroy faith. I would choose democracy over communism, of course, but when you go to the roots of these places and look, even in Jerusalem, you see the survival of the gospel. We are serving a living Christ. He is alive!

I carried the cross on to the Arch of Constantine and then to the Roman Forum. Then I carried it into the huge historic Roman Coliseum. It still stands in its splendor. I stood looking at the place where believers were fed to the lions, where every effort was made to rid Rome of the followers of Jesus. Yet, in the spot where Nero the Emperor had stood, was a cross. It was mounted in the Coliseum, overlooking the arena. With the deepest of emotions I carried my cross to the place the big cross is erected and then I knelt to pray. My tears dripped to the ground. The blood of others had wet this place. Oh, thank you, Jesus, for the faithful, unwavering and committed, who died as a witness to that which they knew to be true. Hallelujah, Jesus is alive. The Son of the living God. And my pilgrimage today is to continue that witness. Thank you, Jesus, for calling me in the tradition of the past prophets. I am happy to live or to lay down my life in Thy will.

It was a cold, rainy and snowy morning as I arrived to get my cross and say goodbye to Father Maloney. He was a wonderful man. He had arranged my visit with the Pope and interpreted for me in the streets. We had eaten together, prayed together, and talked together for many hours. I had said each time I left him, "I love you," but he had never replied or in any way acknowledged my expression, but he seemed to want me around all the time. I put the cross on my shoulder, said a prayer, and "Goodbye," and "I love you," then started off.

"Arthur," I heard him say.

"Yes," I stopped and looked back.

"I like you." He walked slowly toward me as he spoke. "I am commanded by Christ to love everyone, but I don't like everyone that I love. I don't like the way some people curse, or rob or steal or hate or murder. I love them, but I don't like what they do, but I like you. I like to eat with you, I like to talk with you, I like to interpret for you, I like to pray with you and you don't even read your prayers. I like you and I love you"

We embraced. What a beautiful man, he has taught me so much. How many people say, "Oh, I love God, I love Jesus, but let me ask you, do you like Jesus? Do you like what Jesus says, 'love your enemies, forsake all, seek ye first the kingdom of God. Do you like how Jesus lived? Do you like the life of Jesus? Do you like to live this life of Jesus? Do you like God? His words, His commandments... His ways? If you really like, it would be much easier for us to live for Him, if we like His life. Many people want Christ as Savior, but don't like to live with Him. They don't really like Christ.

"Oh, God. Oh, my Lord Jesus, I love you and I like you!"

Italy-December 1979-It was pouring rain and it was cold as I was carrying the cross. I was wet and had sought to live along the road to Assisi much in the spirit of St. Francis, so I didn't take a raincoat. I had nothing with me except the clothes on my back. It was snowy, sleeting, rainy, windy... all at the same time. There was no place to sleep or even to get warm. I remember the words written in the book of James, the last two verses where it told how Elijah was a man of like passions as we are and he prayed and it rained not for seven years. That sounded exciting! I was wet and freezing as I looked up and prayed, "Lord, in the name of Jesus, stop the rain, stop the wind."

I fully expected it to all stop. In a few moments there was a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder and the wind blew twice as hard and the rain came down twice as hard as before. I stood looking up, smiling, "I love You any way. It will take more than water to drown out my love for You!"

The Cross Stolen-Christmas Day 1979-Another Christmas on the road, and this one like many others, away from my family. My mind was filled with the thoughts of the birth of Christ and my own children half a world away. But I was also remembering that on this day, ten years before, I put the cross on my shoulder to begin this pilgrimage around the world. So much had happened and today's adventure was ahead.

Mike and I had slept in a small hotel, rising early to begin our journey. The streets were empty with only a little traffic throughout the day. Every shop was closed, so there was no food. I could just taste the good Christmas dinners that I had shared around my mother's table as a child, and pictured my dad saying the prayer before we ate, then the table piled with food became ours to experience. The big turkey, potato salad, green beans, hot cornbread, cranberry sauce, hot sweet potatoes. Then the beautiful cakes, an assortment of pies, like apple, peach, pumpkin and pecan. My mouth watered as I continued along the highway with beautiful mountains in the distance. Ahead was the city of Assisi, a breathtaking view, like a pearl set atop a mountain. This was the city of St. Francis, where, in the Thirteenth Century, he had dared to live out the words of Jesus in simplicity. Leaving all earthly their possessions, and with a passion for Christ. The world ever since has thrilled and been changed by his life, words and example.

I thrilled to the beauty of arriving in Assisi on Christmas Day. I thought surely the people here will accept, understand and love this modern-day pilgrim.

Along the roadside was an old typical Italian cafe-bar with a crowd of about 75 men standing outside talking. The December weather was sunny and comfortably warm. I leaned the cross against a roadside post, nodded to the men as they stood gazing, offering a Jesus sticker to several without any response. I walked into the smoke filled cafe. The only food available was a small bag of peanuts. I also got a cold drink. And I sat resting for about five minutes, and then walked outside. I stood in the doorway in shock. My cross was gone!

My companion of years around the world had vanished! We rushed to the roadside... nothing! It was gone. My cross was gone!

I had carried the cross into the Vatican, met with the Pope, who had asked me to pray for him on the way to Assisi, and here I was at Assisi, which is really one of the more holy and sacred cities of the world. Fabulously beautiful. It was Christmas Day, and my cross was stolen. I stood in disbelief, the hurt penetrating my whole being, not from fear or depression, just hurt, spiritual hurt, like Jesus must have felt at Gethsemane as He looked out at the crowd. How could anyone take my cross on Christmas Day in front of all these people?

I looked around on the road and in the ditch, and then I walked over to the crowd as they stood laughing and asked them if they had seen anyone take my cross. No one would say a thing.

I went into the Chapel. It was really beautiful with candles burning. As I went up to the altar I knelt down and then lay down on the floor to pray. I said, "Lord, now, you know I've been carrying the cross for years and someone has stolen your cross today." I was crying. "How can anybody do this on Christmas Day?" "Lord," I said. "You know where it is. You saw them take it, so now will You lead me to where it is and protect the cross?"

I decided to go inside the cafe-bar and tell the people what had happened. I explained that my cross had been stolen to the men. One big man jumped up and charged out the door speaking in Italian and started waving both hands at the men outside. He was screaming at the crowd then, he grabbed one man by the shirt, and drew back his fist like he was going to punch him, then the man started talking. The big man let go of the fellow, deep hurt in his eyes, and he told me, "Some fellows have stolen your cross. There were a bunch of motorcycles here and they laid the cross on the motorcycles and took it down the highway over the hill." He pointed, "That way."

I started running for the cross. Under the very shadow of Assisi I was running and praying, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus." Finally I came to the top of the hill and looked down. I could see the cross lying right in the middle of the highway with cars driving around it. When I finally got to the cross I knelt down, kissing it and crying and thanking Jesus. The cross had fallen at this spot as there were some wood chips on the pavement around the cross. I picked up all the chips and put them in my pocket as the traffic was going around me. Some people came to me, fear filling them. They didn't want me to put a curse on them. They said they didn't have anything to do with stealing the cross. They told me they saw a group of men on motorcycles coming with the cross. All of a sudden, the motorcycles just turned over and the men fell off. Some of them were pretty bloody and badly hurt. They left the cross where it fell and rode off.

The group of people that had gathered around didn't want me to leave until I had prayed with them and blessed them. I got down on my knees and prayed and blessed them. At last they were comforted and happy. Joy filled my heart as I felt the rough, worn wood of my cross. My Jesus had given me back His cross. What a Christmas gift! The cross, an open road, a pilgrim and the world. I began to sing and praise God as I began the steep climb up the mountain to Assisi.

Christmas Day, 1979, a day I'll never forget!

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7. EASTERN EUROPE

Hungary, July 21, 1981 – As I was flying into Budapest on Maley (Malev) Hungarian Airlines I prayed, “Lord, how do I get the cross through Immigration and Customs? It’s another communist country. Generally, open manifestation of religion is not allowed.”

I felt the Lord say, “Do not look to the left or to the right, just keep going straight through customs.”

When I passed through Immigration I knew that no one realized I had a cross, but when I got to Customs I just picked up my cross and backpack and started walking. The Lord had told me not to look anyone in the eye, just to walk straight ahead. So, I didn’t stop. I didn’t slow down. I walked right through the Customs line and no one said a word to me. I walked all the way out to the curb and then I asked, “Now, Lord, what do I do?”

When I was on my way to Poland earlier this year, the Lord spoke clearly to me. He said, “Lie down and I’ll tell you exactly what to do. You become nothing and I’ll be everything.” Before this time it was not common for the Lord to speak to me in this way.

Since my trip to Poland, the Lord has spoken to me without hesitation, clearly giving me orders, “Don’t do this, do that,” so I lay down again, stretched out on the pavement in front of the airport, my face to the ground and prayed. I felt the Lord tell me, “Don’t carry the cross mostly in Budapest. Start at the city limit sign and walk to Szeged.”

It seemed the Lord has said if I started in Budapest I would be arrested, but if I started at the city limit sign and the police saw me, they would think I had started in the city and had permission to the walk.

As I carried the cross through Hungary, the people were very warm and responsive, but also fearful. They kept saying, “You’ll be arrested and you and anyone with you will be in very bad trouble.” A preacher told me, “I can only stop and speak with you for just a moment, but you are a miracle, a blessing to all of us. We are all watching you. Many people are driving down the road to see you. We are so happy, you bring us hope.”

About 1:00 Monday afternoon, July 22, 1981 - Crowds had gathered along the streets of the small town of Kiskunfelegyhaza, but no one would speak. Everyone seemed afraid. I said to my son, Joel, “God wants to move in this place but the people are afraid to come near us. Let’s go into a restaurant to eat and give the Lord time to do something in the town.” We went into a restaurant and ordered our food by making signs.

Crowds began to gather. Larger and larger crowds gathered in the City Center. I had my shoes and socks off, cooling my feet. Suddenly I heard the sound of a police siren. A car raced up and three police officers holding their Billy clubs got out and ran into the restaurant. They spoke to a waiter, who was looking at us and then they demanded our passports. They could speak no English and I couldn’t speak Hungarian, but I could tell what they wanted. I put my socks back on and motioned for Joel to continue eating. I got our passports and showed the policemen our photos. They examined our passports, which were stamped. I showed them my book and pictures of me with Pope John Paul II and photographs of me with Yasser Arafat. I motioned that I was walking around the world. I was smiling and happy and I asked them, “Are you sure you speak no English…speak any English?”

They shook their heads. They couldn’t speak a word of English. I began shaking their hands and acting as if I were speaking friendly words. I was saying, “Now, in the name of Jesus I bind you Satan in the name of Jesus have these policemen get in their car and leave so I can preach to the crowd of people without fear.”

In a few minutes the policemen holstered their Billy clubs, turned and left the restaurant, got in their car and drove off. The people rushed around us in amazement.

When we finished eating a huge crowed gathered around us as we walked through the heart of the city. Someone interpreted and we share Jesus Christ with them.

We had no problems when we arrived at the Yugoslavian border after having walked across most of Hungary. We were only granted a visa for a few days so it wasn’t possible to carry the cross in much of Yugoslavia. We prayed after crossing the border and decided the best thing to do was to drive through most of the country; then stop and carry the cross wherever we felt the Lord led us. We shared Christ in many places along the way; trailer parks and restaurants and then I carried the cross in the area of Prokuplje. Joel and another son, Joshua walked with me in the rural countryside. We felt this was what the Lord wanted us to do. Because of our short visa, our time to carry the cross was limited.

When we arrived in Bulgaria we were only granted a 30-hour visa. The time we were being allowed in countries was getting shorter and shorter. The cars in front of us at the Bulgarian border were being searched. The agents looked through the cars, took everything out of the car and even searched the drivers’ pockets. When our car arrived at the border with a 12-foot cross with a wheel on it, tied to the top of the car, the agents just motioned us through. No problems! We were in Bulgaria!

It took most of our 30 hours in Bulgaria to drive across the country toward Turkey. We drove for miles and then along the main highway we stopped and unloaded the cross. Joel, Joshua and I began walking. As we walked along the road near some fields, a motorcycle policeman rode up to us. He looked at the cross and then at us. I kept walking and said to the boys, “This is it.”

I prayed, “Lord, confuse his mind.” And God did. We continued to walk and pray and act normally. God did it, finally the policeman raced off, but he continued looking back at us. The Lord had confused his mind!

We witnessed to several people…a farmer in the field came up to us and we shared with him about Jesus. He could speak a little English so we prayed with him. Now it was time to drive on to the Turkish border.

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8. THE DAY OF THE AUTO CRASH

When we began walking with the cross in Turkey, the Lord told me – and I wrote in my Diary – “Go as far as you can toward Athens.”

I often thought about those words, “Go as far as you can.” What did it mean? I had seen a brilliant light shining down on the road in a vision along the way that I was walking. I knew that something unusual lay ahead.

Turkey was under martial law and all public demonstrations and gatherings were illegal. But, we had no problems with the police or the people. Joel, Joshua and I had begun our walk at the Bosporus Straits in Istanbul behind the famous Blue Mosque. The Muslim people were so kind and responsive to us and honored that we were in Turkey. So many people prayed to receive Christ as their Lord and Savior.

We drove a Peugeot car pulling a 24-foot travel trailer, which was our home on the road. One afternoon there was no place to park alongside the road so we decided to drive to the next village, sleep there and return to the same place tomorrow and continue the walk from there. I tied the cross on the roof rack and drove over the small mountain and started down. As I passed a slow moving truck one wheel of the trailer hit the gravel and started to swerve. I pulled back into my lane and then heard a loud crash. I saw our trailer beside the car and we began plunging off the side of the road, down a steep embankment. I remember being suspended in space as the car landed on its front. A large truck loaded with rocks had hit us from behind. We were going slower than he was and he couldn’t stop in time. I saw my son, Joel fly out the side window and Joy, my daughter, hit the front windshield knocking it out. Then I heard another loud crash – a deafening sound – then silence. Dust was everywhere and at first I couldn’t see.

I dashed around the crushed car to find Joel. He was on his back with his feet caught in the window. Gina was crawling out of the car with Jerusalem, who was crying, so I knew they were alive. Joel had jumped up and was helping Joshua and Joseph get out of the third seat. They were alive!

People were running down the hillside to help – they thought we were dead. Without any words being spoken, my family gathered around the cross. It had been broken in the accident. The long beam was intact but the short beam was in half. All of us were wiping tears from our eyes and praising God. Gina knelt and kissed the cross and then we all knelt and said a prayer.

The car had landed upside down on top of the cross. But no one had broken a bone and the only blood shed was from a small cut near one of my eyes. Everyone was crying because the cross was broken.

We began to look at the wreckage. The front of the big trucked was crushed in but the truck had remained on the road. Our travel trailer was totally destroyed. Parts of it were only a foot high. The Peugeot roof, front and sides were caved in. But we were alive and well! We gave all our belongings, (except a few personal things) to people crowded around: food, pillows, beds, and clothing. For all we knew, this was the end of this trip. It is time to return to California for a while.

Our dear friend, Graham Lacey from London, flew our family home. We had been through the valley of death. We knew the only value was us. Material things come and go; we never grieved for a moment about the loss of the trailer or car, we only rejoiced that we were safe. We had carried the cross and had landed on it.

This was not the end. The walk was to continue.

I now understand the words the Lord told us at the beginning, “Go as far as you can toward Athens.” We did and now it was time to go home.

Every time I stand looking in the mirror to shave the small scar beside my eye reminds me that I live by God’s grace and nothing else.

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9. GLORY OF THE COMING OF THE LORD

It began on a star-filled, full moon night along the Amazon River in Peru. The night air was cool after a hot day and in the late night, Gina, my lovely 15-year old daughter, Mike Ooten, my friend and companion, and I decided to take a swim. The awesome adventure of taking the cross by boat down the Amazon River lay ahead. The presence of the Lord was so real as we swam and basked in the beauty of nature, reflecting on the creative glory of God.

Back in the room I began to read from the book of Samuel in the Bible, "And I will raise me up a faithful priest that will do according to that which is in my heart and in my mind, and I will build him a sure house and he shall walk before mine anointed forever." I Samuel 2:35. These words seemed to leap inside me.

I always study a special part of the Bible on every trip, for even as others are blessed, I too hunger and thirst for all the fullness of God and His word. Flashing through my mind was the fellowship God had in the Garden with Adam and Eve. God walked with them, spoke and listened as they enjoyed Paradise together. God enjoyed the ultimate of His creation: Man made for eternal union with God, but the horror of sin. Oh, how God must still want the fellowship with us.

After my study I lay in the bed praying, "Lord, if there is anything you'd like to say tonight, you can speak whatever is in your heart and in your mind and I will do it for Thy glory."

Words cannot express the passion in my heart for God to reveal His thoughts. An invitation... God had told me to invite Him to reveal Himself afresh. It was 2:00 in the morning as I went to sleep. At 3:00 I was suddenly awake. My watch was showing the time as I lay in this room. It was as if I could see far beyond the room into distant outer space, beyond everything we knew there. A distant glow, growing closer and closer, past all of the galaxies coming toward earth, growing larger and larger as a bright rolling, swirling glow (all the colors of brightness, like red, gold, yellow, and orange), sweeping toward the earth, swirling not from the top to the bottom like ocean waves, but from the bottom to the top. It was like a fiery stream coming closer and closer. I tried to cry out but was speechless. I could not move. The mighty wind of the golden glory was rushing in. There was a host of people and angels just beyond the golden swirl of glory. The brightness just behind the glory was blinding silver and ultra-white, then the words before my eyes, "Arthur, proclaim the glory of the coming of the Lord is at hand."

Those words stayed before my eyes the entire vision. It was the coming of the glory of the Lord, the glory swept over the earth, leaving it white, sparkling clean behind, then into my room and it swept just over me by inches and then it would recede and return again and again. From the bottom of my feet to the top of my head, like ocean waves, the glory swept over me.

After an hour or so my groaning woke Gina. I could not speak for awhile, but finally said to her and Mike, "Can't you see the glory of the Lord? Look! Look!"

But they could not see anything. I crawled out of bed, over to Mike's bed, putting my hand upon his eyes. I said, "Lord, Lord, open his eyes and let him see like Elijah's servant in the Bible."

But Mike said, "..... nothing."

I sat on the floor and said, "Lord, I don't need a vision. I love you. I will follow you. I don't want to get off preaching Jesus into something else."

But the Lord interrupted me and said, "Be free, fear not, receive what I am giving you. Release yourself to me."

All strength left my body and I lay as dead on the floor for four hours, until 8:00 in the morning. I cannot tell all I saw, but I could see and experience the glory of the coming of the Lord. Oh, how indescribably wonderful! If you like art, nature and true beauty, you cannot afford to miss the glory of the Lord!

Then He would let me see and experience the horror, the awesome painful horror that first moment when one realizes he has missed the glory of the coming of the Lord. All of what life is they have missed it. Everything lost for eternity. I missed it all... oh, horror of horrors, pain in mind, body and soul. Oh, I would burst into tears, agony gripped me, then the beauty and the glory of the coming of the Lord would be before me and I would thrill inside every part of my being in the glory, the glory... oh, my Lord and my God. This would change again and again as I experienced the agony and the ecstasy.

Finally the Lord spoke: "I have chosen you. It has taken a long time to prepare you for this time, but the time is at hand. Arthur, proclaim the glory of the coming of the Lord is at hand."

I tried to protest, for I had never emphasized the second coming of Christ in its detail, I always spoke of now more than the future. Trying to get all of the prophesy concerning Syria, Iran, Russia, China and the other areas in its exact place had confused me. The Lord spoke again as I concerned myself about correct theology. "Don't consider anything; just proclaim the glory of the coming of the Lord is at hand."

I thought, "Where? ... How? I'm not able. I'm just a road man, dirty blue jeans and a cross. You have big television preachers, huge crusade evangelists, and large organizations to reach the world."

But the Lord spoke. "Don't ask questions. Proclaim my message. To this end you were born. You have always known it. Now is the time. Fear not; proclaim the coming of the glory of the Lord is at hand."

Mike and Gina sat for hours watching over me. Mike reassured Gina, saying, "Arthur is with the Lord."

Now the vision receded. I motioned for a glass of water and after drinking it I could speak. My body was exhausted and I fell back into bed and went into a deep sleep, resting in the glory of the Lord.

DANIEL 7:9, 10, 14, 15, 28; CHAPTER 8:27-"His throne was like the fiery flame and his wheels as burning fire. A fiery stream issued and came forth before him and there was given him dominion and glory, and I Daniel was grieved in my spirit, changed in my heart, fainted and was astonished at the vision."

EZEKIEL 1:26-28-"Now above the expanse that was over their heads there was something resembling a throne, like lapis lazuli in appearance. And on that which resembled a throne, high up, was a figure with the appearance of a man. Then I noticed from the appearance of his loins and upward something resembling glowing metal that looked like fire all around within and from the appearance of his loins and downward I saw something like fire. And there was radiance around him. As the appearance of the rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell on my face and heard a voice speaking."

REVELATION 21:10-11-"And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me the holy city, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, having the glory of God. Her brilliance was like a very costly stone, as a stone of crystal-clear jasper."

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10. A WALK ALONG THE AMAZON RIVER

The Amazon River is one of the great wonders of the world. It is bigger than the next seven largest rivers of the world put together. The Mississippi, the Congo, the Nile, the Ganges, all could fit inside the Amazon. The volume of water is so much that 400 miles out into the Atlantic Ocean you can still drink the water.

The distance from Iquitos, Peru, to the mouth of the Amazon is almost 4,000 miles, yet the river drops only about 400 feet. It is nearly flat. Ocean-going ships can navigate the Amazon all the way to Iquitos, Peru, three-fourths of the way across the South American Continent. Most of the boats, however, are local. They are long and narrow. It is the transportation system in place of roads. The boats carry people, cows, pigs, coconuts, bananas, and everything imaginable.

There are thousands of birds of every kind, huge fish weighing up to 500 pounds, and villages dotting the banks here and there.

I felt led by the Lord to take the cross down the great flowing river. I flew into Iquitos with my daughter, Gina, and Mike Ooten. We bought a boat from some Indians for $1,000. The boat was 55 feet long and 12 feet wide and would carry 150 people. The registered name was "Recieo" but we called it "The Holy Floater." The partners at TBN television had given us the money through the burden of Paul and Jan. We converted it inside so that four people could sleep. It was complete with mosquito netting, a stove, and two 12 horsepower motors that we purchased in Iquitos. We mounted the cross on the front. I would take the cross down and carry it around the river villages, give out gospel materials, preach, and then move on to the next village by way of the boat. I always had a local guide because the river is so huge with so many lakes that you could get lost for days. Also, you need someone who knew where the villages are located. The guide would also serve as our interpreter.

The following are a few excerpts about this trip from my diary.

"The power of God was so strong and the glory of God so great, you could feel the power of the Holy Spirit come like the rain."

I lay on the bow of the ship. Oh, the glory of the Lord. What peace and joy on the Amazon. The sunset was awesome. It's like a year's weight was lifted from me. Into the night we ran with the drone of the motor mixing with the splashing water. In the clear night, with the full moon and stars, it is easy to see the river and dodge the floating trees.

Today a storm came so quickly. Dark, rolling clouds. Driving rains. Strong winds and huge waves. The boat, with its grass roof and wooden walls, is top heavy. The motor would rise completely out of the water and it was hard to get power. We almost sank, but finally made it to shore.

Today we stopped at a leper colony against the protest of our guide. Gina, Mike and I went ashore with the cross. There were about 5,000 people in the town. The colony was built on poles above the swamp. The residents were so excited to see us. We spent the day with these poor people, many with no hands or feet or eyes. The dying people were housed in a separate building. We visited each dying person and prayed for them. I preached several times in my poor Spanish. The Catholic nuns and priests that helped were gone for supplies, so we did not meet them.

It is so strange how the missionaries are often condemned in the West for exploitation. What is there to exploit here? Where are the leper colonies and jungle hospitals and schools that the atheists support with their donations? I read to the people from the Bible. In the book of Revelation, it says, "One day there will be no more death, sorrow, pain or tears." How blessed are the healthy.

Leticia, Colombia - We got a hotel room overlooking the Amazon. As the sun sets over the river, it is of the most beautiful colors I have ever seen. Mike, Gina and I began to sing, "From the rising of the sun unto the going down, the Lord's name is to be praised." We began to dance in the spirit as David danced before the Lord. We were crying, laughing, dancing, singing and praying. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

I returned to America to take Gina home and bring Joy and Joshua, two more of my children, with me. Joshua was eight and Joy was nine. Mike remained behind on the boat.

We had two five-gallon drums of gasoline for fuel on our boat, but we needed to get one more as we had almost run out of fuel on the way to Leticia. Mike had bought a third drum and they were all in the rear of the boat. When I returned, the smell of gasoline was very strong in the enclosed boat. We cooked supper over the open flame of the kerosene stove, and then went to sleep. But the next morning, I said, "Mike, gasoline is spilled in this boat. The smell is too strong."

I went to the back where the drums were and tapped the sides of them and two of them sounded with a thud. They were full. The third one rang hollow. My heart almost stopped. "Where is the gasoline, Mike, this one is empty!"

I raised one of the boards that covered the floor and there, underneath us, inside the boat, under the open flame stove, were 55 gallons of sloshing explosive gasoline. I made Joy and Joshua go to the bank and Mike and I began pouring the gasoline into the Amazon River. Soon we were surrounded by a film of gasoline on the water.

As a boat came by we prayed, trusting that no one would throw a cigarette into the Amazon River, igniting a horrendous explosion. Only God had protected us! An explosion in that boat would have blown us to bits, killing us all. And Mike had cooked over it for three weeks.

Joshua wanted to bring his skateboard with him. I protested that there was no place to ride a skateboard along the Amazon River, but he insisted and finally I gave in, but considered it a worthless extra burden for us to bother with.

We had record players that are little cardboard folders with a needle that you fold three times and then stand up. You can take a pencil or a stick and turn the cardboard around and play the record. It doesn't take batteries. A lot of the local people don't have money for batteries and couldn't buy them if they did, but they can play these records. All you have to do is have someone spin them around. We had records in different tribal languages, plus Spanish and Portuguese. Whenever we would go into a village we would leave a Bible, gospel materials in Spanish or Portuguese, then we'd leave Jesus stickers and records. Some records would preach the gospel about Jesus. Others would give basic doctrines so a person would have a fairly good understanding of what was going on just by listening. It didn't matter if someone could read or not.

We arrived at a primitive village, tied up the boat and walked up. When we got there everybody ran. We couldn't make contact with the people. Suddenly the Lord gave me an idea. There was a high bank like a hill and it went all the way down to the Amazon where we were parked the boat. The idea was for Joshua to get his skateboard and skateboard down that hill. He said, "No, daddy, you can't skate down that."

"Joshua," I said. "Go get your skateboard. You brought it, so let's put it to work."

He got it and we stood on top of the hill. I said, "Joshua, skateboard."

"Dad," he said. "It's too steep!" I can't stop!"

I said, "Joshua, quit making excuses. Skateboard! I've got a feeling it's going to draw a crowd."

Joshua got on his skateboard and I said, "Get down the hill."

He kind of stepped on it and it started gaining speed. Then I realized it was too steep. He couldn't control the board. He couldn't stop. There was nothing to stop it and I recall thinking he was going to crash.

As the people that were away from us along the edge saw a little boy riding a board down the steep bank, and they had never seen anything like it before in their lives, they forgot about Joshua and me being strangers. They came running out of the bushes from where they were hidden. They were hollering and hollering, just like at a football match. As Joshua was going down the hill he screamed, "Dad, I've got to jump!"

He was heading right into the boat. He jumped off and went rolling. His skateboard crashed into the boat just as he stopped at the water's edge! People grabbed him. They were helping him up they were his friends, all around him! Joshua took the record player and began to play the record with a pin. The crowd listened and we were able to reach that village because Joshua brought his skateboard to the Amazon.

If God can use a skateboard, He can use anything!

Joy got sick, she was so hot. We prayed for her to be healed but the Lord didn't heal her immediately, so we had to take that precious nine year-old girl, who became almost incoherent with fever, and dip her into the Amazon to cool her off.

Ordinarily we used just one motor going downstream, but we had to turn on both motors, for I thought she was going to die. It was a day and a half before we could get to a hospital. It was so sad. She just lay there moaning, and I would wet a cloth and put it on her. (She doesn't even remember most of this.) We finally got to a place where there was a doctor. The office was dirty; there were syringes around everywhere, flies, mosquitoes and filth. This doctor gave her a shot and some pills, and after a little while she started getting better. She still had a fever, but was much better. A few days later it flared up again. We took her to another doctor. When we went to Manaus, Brazil, which is a big city with over a million people and stayed there a few days and she got sick again, running an extremely high fever. That is when we left the Amazon.

When we arrived back in the United States we found out she had an infection in her kidneys that I guess she had gotten from drinking the water. It took several months for her to get well.

We gave the boat and all of the supplies to the poor in Manaus, Brazil. Hallelujah!

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11. A WALK WITH THE BIRD

EL SALVADOR DEL MUNDO - Every person, I guess, has a great animal story. It is strange how animals capture our hearts. We give them our energy, time and tenderness, yet we almost always outlive them and wind up with a broken heart, but we become richer because of them. So is my story of El Salvador del Mundo.

I was carrying the cross through the country of El Salvador. There was tension and crisis. I had preached to huge crowds in the cities as they rushed around the cross, eager for every word. But one thing struck me. There, in the very heart of the city at the key intersection, was a roundabout with a large statue of Christ holding the world in his hands. The name of the statue is El Salvador del Mundo, interpreted in English, "the Savior of the World." Oh, how that moved me. What pain Christ must feel at creation gone mad.

When you walk around the world sometimes you get a little eccentric. I had a sudden urge to get a parrot. Now, can you believe that? Walking from Mexico to Colombia can do something to you!

As I left the city with a deeply burdened heart at what was sure to come (war), I stopped to preach under a big tree in the blazing sun. The crowd gathered, but separated from the crowd were two boys who caught my eye. On one of their shoulders was my bird, the loveliest parrot that ever spoke. These boys prayed to receive Christ, and as I talked to them I reached to touch the deep red and green parrot, covered in beauty and elegance. The boy stood still and the parrot turned his head as if to bite. I didn't move my hand but let him softly chew. He blinked his eyes as if to say, "It's okay," and I began to stroke him. Then I slipped my finger in front of his legs and he stepped up on my finger. My heart leaped with joy. This was my dream. I raised my hand to shoulder height and the parrot leaped off, walked over to my ear and began to nudge behind my ear and turn his face and beak into my shoulder-length hair.

"Quanto dinero por la papaque?" I said calmly, but excitement was rising inside. "U.S. dollar," I said.

The two young fellows, about 11 or 12 years old, in short pants and bright shirts, could hardly contain themselves. "Dollar, dollar" they were leaping. One of them lifted his finger up "Uno dollar," he said in a question.

Surely that was too much, he must have thought. I smiled.

"Dos," he said more confidently.

"Si," I replied.

They began to giggle and clutch each other as I walked over to our van that was parked nearby, where Mike my driver had stopped. I went into the trailer and came back. They were so happy as my parrot watched the transaction that was to determine his future home.

"Una mas," I handed them one each. "Ultra mas, cono Biblia." (Papers about Jesus Christ).

Everyone was happy, especially me. The statue in the heart of the city flashed into my mind. Your name shall be El Salvador del Mundo. I will teach you how to preach. It is hard to get humans to do it, to go into the dangerous jungles. I'll teach you how to praise the Lord, all in Spanish, then I'll release you in the jungle with the other parrots and you can teach them, then soon the whole jungle will be filled with the good news of Jesus and praise to the Lord. A great missionary plan was born. He did a "squat" on my shirt, so I knew he was excited too!

El Salvador grew close to my heart. He always greeted me with a kiss and began to praise the Lord with great regularity. I was comforted daily to know that El Salvador would be waiting to greet me at the end of the long walk. Through the country of El Salvador I walked and preached, then through Honduras and into war-torn Nicaragua. Death was everywhere, all around me, and especially in Leone where I carried the cross through the lines of the Sandinistas and the Somoza government troops that were surrounding it. The cross in war again!

As I carried the cross one day, I met Don Price, a friend and veterinary doctor from Key Largo, Florida, walking toward me. Don had come to spend a two-week vacation with me on the road, interpreting in Spanish and teaching it to me. He was walking slowly with a sober look; something was wrong. The truck and trailer were parked by a big tree. Mike stood at the door and Don spoke. "Arthur, you know we sprayed for mosquitoes last night. Well, El Salvador has been having respiratory problems. I did everything I could, but he overdosed on mosquito spray. El Salvador is dead."

Only children and animal lovers can know how I felt. Tears burst from my eyes. I don't expect some to understand, but I had struggled through war all day, gunfire and death stared me in the face, yet a parrot had broken my heart. Maybe it was built-up emotions; everything I had experienced, but nothing could console me. Mike was crying and the veterinarian was speaking to us. I held El Salvador tenderly in my hands and looked at his lifeless body, then lowered him into the deep grave we had dug beside the tree. Don read a scripture, Mike sang in a broken weeping voice, and I prayed and wept. We covered the grave and erected a cross. Nothing else to say as tears poured down my face.

I lifted the big 12-foot cross, set it gently on my right shoulder, and began to walk. The sound of fighting echoed in the air. Soon, in just a matter of hours I, too, would face death under another tree only a few miles away. (See Chapter 13.) Oh, Jesus, El Salvador my buddy is dead. I miss him. Soon my sweat mixed with tears as I walked on in the way of the cross.

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12. CENTRAL AMERICA

The call of God to walk from Mexico to Colombia is an awesome call. I accepted it at Mt. Sinai in the Sinai Desert in the Mideast. Then comes carrying out of the call. One foot in front of the other

In 1976 I began in Mexico City and walked south. Jim Hampton, the Hollywood actor, a great follower of Christ and friend of mine, came to spend the first week with me on the road.

Jim, Andrei our Mexican interpreter, and I were going up the high mountains south of Mexico City. We were passing a rancho with about 20 or 30 workers on a hillside. There was a barn and a ranch house. I saw a man staggering down the road toward us. When he got to us we could see that he had too much to drink. The men were drinking poque (the first juices from the cactus, when fermented, become poque. Then you can make mescal, and after that you can refine it and it becomes tequila). The man was so excited, standing there in his baggy clothes and big hat.

"What's he saying," I asked Andrei.

"He thinks you are Jesus carrying the cross."

"Well, who does he think you are?" I asked.

"Oh, he thinks we are two of the disciples." Andrei said.

"What does he want?" I asked a bit confused.

"He thinks you are Jesus and we are two disciples. He wants you to come up and drink poque and play cards."

We spent the night in their barnyard and had a wonderful witness.

In Mexico, south of Oaxaca, I had one of' the most fantastic times. I was staying with some missionaries from the Netherlands named Houcks. They were very nice to me, so kind. I spent the night with them and the next day I went into the market town to preach. There were 2,000 or 3,000 people in the market. Smelly meat was hanging up with flies all over it, vegetables and fruit everywhere; pots, pans, and household wares, just a real Mexican market. I carried the cross into the market and the people were as thick as the flies on the meat. I stood up on a table and began to preach with an interpreter. Masses of people were saved. After we had finished praying with the people and instructed them in living for Jesus, I stepped down. There was this little old lady dressed in black sitting there. She had a big pot boiling on a coal fire. What she was cooking looked something like stew. She looked up at me and asked, "Would you like something to eat?"

I could understand what she was saying in Spanish. I answered, "No, I'm not hungry."

It was 11:00am and I was hot from the boiling sun. I wasn't hungry at all, and looking at the pot I wasn't hungry even if I had been hungry. She looked at me with her sad, hurt eyes, reached up her hands and asked, "Would you eat, I want to give you something."

I looked at her. She was old, poor, and this was her life's occupation. The Lord said in my heart, "Eat it and let her know you love her."

I sat down on a log for a seat. People were pushing and shoving, just to be near me. I was dripping sweat in the hot sun. She dipped down and poured a bunch of this stuff in a bowl... it looked horrible. Houcks, the missionary, said, "Arthur, don't eat that."

But I said, "The Lord told me to sit down here and eat it."

He said, "You'd better make sure the Lord said it. I've been a missionary here 17 years. You'll have diarrhea and vomiting. We're going to have a rally tonight. You can't eat that stuff. Do you know what it is?"

I said, "Wait until I've finished before you tell me. See if you can find some water or something so I can wash it down."

I started eating it. I couldn't chew it. I just had to swallow it whole. It was like eating rubber and oil. The taste was nauseating. Everybody watched me as I ate. After eating, Houcks said to me, "That is minudo, the inside lining of a pig's stomach."

After a bit I left to carry the cross out of town. Houcks rode along on his motorcycle. When a crowd gathered, he would interpret as I preached. Later he went back into town. Soon he came up on his motorcycle and said, "Arthur, there is a restaurant here in town. It is the only decent place for the next 150 miles. They want to give you a meal for free. I know them. They flagged me down and said they had dinner ready and they want you to eat."

"I'm not hungry," I said. "And after eating that minudo I won't be hungry for three days. I don't want anything else to eat."

"Okay," he said. "I'll go back and tell them."

He went back and they had the dinner ready, so he decided to eat in my place. I didn't see him again until that night. He was pale as a ghost. He said, "I hate you, Arthur Blessitt. You ate that minudo, you're going strong. I ate the clean meal and I am about to die!"

Another time when a friend was walking with me we were very thirsty. A guy stopped in a battered old pickup and asked, "Would you like something?"

We talked with him, gave him a tract, and went through the scriptures and prayed with the man. He asked again, "Do you need anything?"

I said, "Do you have any agua?"(This means water in Spanish)

"Si!" he said, nodding his head.

He got in the truck, drove down the road about 100 yards, reached into the back of the truck, picked up an old can and went down to a hog pen, literally with the hogs. There was a trough there where the pigs drank. He scooped the water up into a big old rusty can and came running back toward us, just grinning from ear to ear. He was so happy, pure love from the man's heart. My friend said, "Arthur, you're not going to drink that!"

I said, "The Bible says to eat and drink whatever is set before you." I couldn't tell this guy that I'm too good to drink it. He would drink it if he got thirsty.

So, I took old can and said, "In the name of Jesus, kill 'em all," drank it, handed it to my friend, who said, "Okay, I'm with you!"

And we laughed.

Guatemala - What a glorious day! We're hot, dirty and tired, but all along the Pan American Highway people gathered to see the cross and hear about Jesus. They would crowd around the cross and kiss it.

Two old ladies hitchhiked for 50 miles to see me and to have me bless them. They received Jesus and left rejoicing.

I am walking through sugar plantations. As I walked along the roadside when trucks or cars would pass, I would have to move into the thorny bushes and grass along the roadside. The grass would cut and sting and the thorns would prick me. What a mess to walk in. I could see a crowd waiting for me in the village ahead. Then a bee stung me, of all places, on my lip. I was in awful pain and my lip was swelling as I arrived and was met by the anxious crowd. I tried to speak in Spanish. My Spanish is so bad, especially with a swollen lip. But at least I can say Jesus.

Had freshwater shrimp for supper tonight. Just the best you can ever eat, praise the Lord!

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13. A WALK WITH THE ANGELS

Jesus said, "Be not afraid, go. I will be with you always." These words in Matthew, the 28th chapter, become to me a living reality. Sometimes God allows His servants to die. John the Baptist was beheaded. Stephen was stoned to death. Paul was killed in Rome. Peter was killed in Rome. Yet, at other times God has chosen to spare his followers. Like Daniel in the lion's den. Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in the fiery furnace. Paul and Silas in prison.

The following experience in my life is one of those times where God chose to spare death in His own divine way. It is not to my merit that I was given this miracle. Many more holy than I have had the honor to be martyred for Christ. It is simply the sovereignty of God. He chose to extend my life for His purpose. I shall not attempt to prove this story. At this writing all the people who are spoken of by name in this experience are alive. They, too, speak of this miracle in war-torn Nicaragua.

The Pan American Highway South of Leone, 1978- At the end of a long day's walk, I arrived where my four-wheel van truck was parked with our small camping trailer. Mike Ooten was driving the truck which was full of gospel material, and the trailer was my daily bed. Don Price, a veterinarian from Key Largo, Florida, was with me for a two-week vacation to interpret Spanish for me and also to teach me Spanish. They were parked by the roadside talking to a few people who had gathered. There were only a few scattered houses nearby with a few old people and children about. Don and Mike had talked to them about Jesus before I arrived. The people were saying in Spanish, "Don't stay here. They will kill you. At night everything on this road dies. Go on to the next town and sleep at the church. You will be safe there."

The civil war in Nicaragua was raging at the time, the Sandinistas' popular guerilla movement against the Somoza government dictatorship. It was a horrible and bloody war. Terror was everywhere.

"I never run,"' I said. "We will sleep where we stop with the cross. I have learned you never run. You must face fear and overcome it, or it will haunt you."

The old man who had spoken made the sign of the cross as we parked the truck and trailer under a tree. It is very uncommon for us to park under a tree, because birds often park in them.

We opened some cold canned food, ate and soon we were in bed. Mike was in the front bed, and I was at the back on the bottom, and Don at the back on the top bunk. I was too exhausted to think. I went sound asleep just after I lay down. The night was hot and I was wet with sweat. A loud banging on the side of the trailer and the loud voice of a man yelling, “Narcotica policia” woke me. I shook my head, sitting up in bed, and pulled back the window curtain to look out. A gun was in my face.

"Narcotica policia!"

I turned on the light, slipped into my pants and opened the door. There were guns pointed at me. One short, middle aged man put a pistol directly in my face, pushing me back and stepping in.

All were in khakis or blue jeans and plain shirts. Several had mustaches and most were in their late teens or early twenties. Several came into the trailer and looked around as if they were going to buy it. Don did not say a word, even though he spoke Spanish. Mike was sitting up in bed wondering what was going on. He could not find his glasses.

"What's happening Arthur, what's going on with all these guys?" he asked sleepily.

"Pray, Mike. Pray."

The short man waved his pistol toward the door. They took me by the shoulder and arm and as I started out I reached up and grabbed the truck keys. This was simply on an impulse, for no particular reason except maybe I thought they might want the truck and they could have it. There wasn't a doubt these were not narcotics police. The people would later say they were government troops, the government would say there were guerillas. Never mind who, the problem was terror on the roads to rob, to kill and to terrorize the land.

I began to witness in the little Spanish I knew. "Dios te ama. (God loves you) Jesus will forgive you and come to live in your heart."

No one seemed to hear my words. I could see seven men with rifles and pistols, plus two more lying on the back of the truck with machine guns protecting the others. It was a clear night and beautiful. Maybe they want to rob us, I thought, but no. They took me beside the truck and stood me there with orders not to move. They lined up about 15 feet away, raised their guns and pointed them toward me. Suddenly I realized they were going to shoot me. I was standing before a firing squad.

The cross was on top of the truck and difficult to get to. Now, this is what flashed through my mind. If I'm going to die I don't want to die without a Bible. The guns were all aimed at me as I suddenly turned to the right, took about two quick steps and reached to put the key in the truck keyhole. I did it on the first try. I was thinking, even if they shoot me I think I can get the door open before I die and grab a box of Bibles. The men were screaming, "No, no!"

I swung the door open, raised the front seat and grabbed a box of Bibles. The gunmen had no way to know what I was getting or doing. Only God knows why they didn't shoot, but my thought was, if I'm going to die, what does it matter whether I get it from the front or from the back?

I set the box of Bibles on the ground and tried to get it open. It was bound with strong corded tape which made it almost impossible to get open. I could see the feet of the men around me and feel their pull on my shoulder trying to get me up. After getting an opening in the box of American Society Bibles, I thought I'd give them all a Bible too, filling my arms as I stood up. No one was there!

What's happening, I wondered. The glory of God was present, and then I saw the unbelievable. All the gunmen were on the ground, fiat on their backs. The short man who seemed to be the commander was lying inside the trailer with only his feet and legs sticking out. As I walked toward them they began to slowly get up in a daze. The man at the door now sat collecting himself.

I said in Spanish, "Do you want a Bible?"

"We won't bother you," he said.

I grabbed a water bottle and offered them water. All of them jumped up and raced away into the night with no truck lights turned on. I stood in silence. What had happened? It was all so fast!

As I walked into the trailer Don said, "We thought you were dead."

"They were going to kill me, shoot me," I said. "But I opened the truck and got some Bibles. When I looked up the men were on the ground."

"Arthur, we could hear the blows of meat against meat. We thought they were killing you. Then we heard them yell '0-o-o-oh' and they came falling back. One of the men fell into the doorway."

We sat up talking and talking. At dawn as I prepared to leave, carrying the cross down the highway, the people of the houses were there. They were saying, "We saw a bright light. God was here and the gunmen fell to the ground."

That very same night, in Phoenix, Arizona, Paul and Jan Crouch of TBN, were in bed about to go to sleep. They had done some special programming on Channel 21. Just as Jan was about to go to sleep the ceiling of the room lit up with my face. In the vision she saw me about to die. Jan grabbed Paul and shouted, "Paul, pray! Arthur is about to die!"

She had been reading Billy Graham's book, "Angels," and she prayed in her own special and beautiful way. "Lord, send twelve big angels down right now and deliver him." Soon they felt peace as Jan said, "Arthur is okay now."

It was the same night, the same, time, 2:00am Nicaragua time, 1:00am Phoenix time.

A few nights later we arrived in Managua, Nicaragua, and telephoned back to the United States and heard the rest of the story.

Jesus said, "Be not afraid, go. I will be with you always."

Days after the firing squad experience, I reached southern Nicaragua. The crowds were gathering in each village and town to welcome me and the cross, and to hear the words of Jesus. All day the people were with me. Thousands and thousands ... little children in their dirty clothes, teenagers, old men and women ... everyone wanting to get near. I had no interpreter so I preached all the Spanish I knew. At the end of the day I was exhausted. The heat was intense. The night before I had no sleep at all as we were parked with the truck, trailer and cross in the center of a big gun battle. Soldiers were crawling about in the houses and buildings, firing, but no one shot at us. I sat on the hood of the truck and several times and preached. Mike and I talked so they would see who we were.

Several times soldiers would dash up to us, get gospel materials, and then run off to fight. It was now two days and one night without sleep and constant ministry. Even after dark I was walking. Every cell in my body seemed to ache and be weary. I could see the trailer ahead. When I got there I was totally exhausted, but I preached. I was so sleepy and tired, I said, "Mike, go on up the road to a place where there are no people and stop there. I can't sit here all night trying to talk. Help me, move on up.

I lifted the cross again and walked into the darkness as Mike gave the crowd gospel material. Mike blew the horn as he passed me by.

"Oh, Lord, help him find a quiet place," I prayed.

Oh, it feels so good to be exhausted in the service of God! It was a dark night and difficult for me to see where to walk. Finally I could see the lights of a town ahead. I hoped Mike could find a quiet place on the roadside. Then I saw one of those little roadside restaurants with about 15 people in it. They saw me and started toward the door. I saw the trailer parked at a closed gas station ahead. I did not stop walking. I could only pray, "Lord help me make it a few more steps."

Arriving at the trailer I leaned the cross against it, opened the door and just fell into my bed still dressed in my dirty, smelly clothes. I was breathing hard and pouring sweat, hungry, tired and weak.

"Oh, Jesus, help me," I whispered, too exhausted to take off my shoes. "Mike," I whispered, "there are some people coming over from that restaurant, you witness to them."

I heard Mike's voice, filled with excitement and wonder, "Arthur, Arthur, you won't believe it! Look!"

I could hardly get up to look out the window. Coming down the road was an amazing sight. You could see from the lights of the gas station, a crowd of hundreds and hundreds of people running through the night. Out of the town, toward us, the entire town was coming out to see the cross and hear about Jesus. I fell back exhausted, "Mike, you preach."

The crowd gathered outside the door. I could hear Mike in his few words of Spanish trying to tell the people about Jesus. My Spanish is so poor it takes the grace of God for me to lead anyone to Jesus, but for Mike it takes a miracle, like Pentecost!

I began to smile, then to laugh. My heart was overcome with the eager and hungry hearts. Tomorrow they may die in this war. I got up, stood at the door. Those beautiful faces were shining in the reflected light. My aching body was rejuvenated, my mind clear, my heart afire. Words poured forth in Spanish. I looked. These were my people; this is my home, the roadsides of the world!

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14. A WALK IN A MIRACLE

Papua New Guinea-Today, Sunday, December 14, 1980, I arrived in Papua New Guinea. It was unreal, awesome, powerful, and glorious. No words could describe my arrival at the airport, except to say that it was straight out of the book of Acts. I knew no one in the country, and had never spoken to anyone in the country. I had told one friend in Australia that I was going to New Guinea. He had telephoned missionaries and told them of my walk there. Many of my tapes and books had been circulated through New Guinea without my knowing about it at all, so I expected no one at the airport. But as the plane landed I could see crowds of people lining the airport fence. They began to wave and shout. As we came off the airplane I saw "one way" fingers pointed toward heaven. The words were about Jesus Hallelujah! Glory to God! They were waiting for us. Hundreds of people were screaming "Praise God," "Hallelujah!" I shall never forget that crowd.

I came through Immigration and Customs without any problems. You could hear the Jesus cheers, singing poured through Customs. It was electric! Finally I walked out with Joshua, my son, and Mike Ooten, my friend. The crowds grabbed me, screaming, tearing at me, pushing and shoving to touch me. They took the cross over their heads and began carrying it out of the building. They grabbed the bags, some going one way and some another, and then they grabbed me and lifted me above their shoulders and began carrying me out of the airport. A sea of black faces ... the airport was in total confusion!

I knew no one. I lost Joshua and I couldn't see Mike. How did all of these people hear of me? I didn't know anyone would be here. We expected no one, but the power of God had fallen. A lady fell at my feet and was saved and immediately filled with the Holy Spirit. It was indescribable!

I was dripping wet with sweat in the scorching heat. I was soaked in water. I led a huge man to Jesus. The crowd had gathered and I found a spot and stood on the back of a truck and began to preach. The power of the glory of God came. Hundreds of people praying, welcoming Jesus into their lives. This was my arrival in Papua New Guinea.

December 15, 1980 -Well, today followed in the steps of yesterday ... great and glorious mighty beyond words.

I was in town at noon and a man came to see me about a man named Joe, who was head of one of the biggest gangs in Papua New Guinea, and one of the most wanted criminals by the law. "Joe is hiding. Would you meet him?" he asked.

I went into a backroom to meet him. The power of God fell on him immediately and he began to weep and was saved. It was awesome! He rounded up about 30 of other gang leaders from around the city and they came to see me at the Christian Crusade Center, where I was staying. I spoke to the group and there seemed to be no response, but then I asked them to come to the cross and pray. Many were saved. People began calling out to Jesus to change their lives and to save them. It again was an awesome experience. Gang leader after gang leader came up to the cross and knelt and prayed and gave their lives to Jesus. Everyone was shaken. Leaders of the two largest gangs in Port Moresby were converted in one day. Unbelievable! Tomorrow night we will have a Rally.

A lady who was a social worker who had been trying to help reach these gangs came to me, very shaken and crying. "This is the cross, you are the man. For a year I have been seeing this cross in my dreams and a white man leading me. I saw the white man and I was following him. I knew I had to follow him, and then I could build my own life. This is the cross, which is why all the people are coming to you. This is God's time for New Guinea. This is God's timing!"

This is unspeakable we are living in God's time. Oh, there was a great story in today's newspaper that covers this city and most of the nation. I did two radio programs that covered the entire nation in the various languages of the country. They call me "Cross Man." In this country there are over 750 languages. It is one of the most primitive countries in the world. The jungle of New Guinea, where many horrible World War II battles were fought in the surrounding islands, is an area of many islands and different languages. Many of the people still carry spears, bows and arrows, while there are a few cities trying to modernize. It is into this place that the Lord has led me.

Today, as I carried the cross through Port Moresby, we saw hundreds and thousands coming to Jesus. The whole place is shaken by the power of God. I prayed for five people today to be healed and all five were healed. This is the truth; one man came up to me when I was in a big crowd of people. I had just finished speaking and, as I looked at him, I saw his arm was drawn back and his fingers were drawn. He couldn't move his fingers. His arm was limp. It would only twitch a little bit. He had a stroke over a year ago. The Lord spoke to me, "Pray for him and I'll heal him."

I was shaken. "Lord, this is like an impossible case. What do I do?"

And I felt God telling me, "Pray for him and I'll heal him."

It took all the faith I had, but finally I looked at the man and said, "Sir, in the name of Jesus, God wants to heal you. Reach out your hand and arm to me. I want to shake your hand."

Everyone was standing in amazement. The man reached out his arm and, before my eyes, his fingers stretched out, his wrist was loose, his arm was strengthened and he was healed completely I saw it. I was shaken and the people were shaken!

Today we gave out over 12,000 gospel tracts and 5,000 Jesus stickers. How many people met Jesus, I don't know.

Thursday, December 18- A day that is straight out of the book of Acts. Today was awesome! If you can imagine a hill and a valley of houses surrounded by hills and as far as you can see, people running down the roads toward the cross. All traffic stopped, a swelling sweeping crowd following behind the cross. Old ladies running with babies in their arms, little children pushing and shoving, trying to get near. Young people who don't know Geneva from Jesus, trying to get Jesus stickers, trying to hear the word of God. It was awesome! The leader of every street gang in town was now walking beside the cross. We saw hundreds saved. We preached to crowds of thousands and thousands. Today we gave out about 11,000 tracts, 6,000 Jesus stickers - - - it was unbelievable.

Along the street today a woman was standing with a little child in her arms. As I came by I stopped and shook her hand. Jesus spoke to me to pray for the child to be healed. The child was four or five years old and had no control over her legs; they were just hanging and flopping. I said, "Lord, oh, no, this is going to be embarrassing if I have the lady stand the child up and her legs aren't healed."

The Lord said, "Pray for that child and I'll heal her right now."

I answered, "Okay." And I prayed.

After I prayed I looked at the child and could see her legs still flopping. I hugged the child and the mother, put my cross on my shoulder and started walking off. The Lord said, "Stop, stand the child on her legs. She is healed I stopped, tried to back the cross up through the crowd, and finally got back to the lady with the child. I took her in my arms, tears running down my cheeks. It was so tough for me to stand the child up. It would be so embarrassing, but the Lord was saying, "Do it, do it."

The child's legs were still limp. She had enlarged knees. I prayed for her again and I tell the truth, I lie not. I bent down, stood her on her feet. She didn't walk for she had never walked, but she stood strong on her feet. Her joints were perfectly normal. I was speechless! Glory to God! The crowd went wild.

I must say this. Most of the time I don't see people healed. There have been only a few times. Normally it is when I'm walking down the road, passing along, that I see people healed and, usually, when I see them healed they are all healed and are usually healed every time. This healing power lasts for only a matter of minutes or a matter of hours, or sometimes for a matter of days. Everyone is healed, not just a few. I have no explanation. It is astounding to me. But most of the times when people ask me to pray or come up to be healed I don't see the healing. Only once in awhile and when God does the healing, it is complete and is astounding. Praise the Lord!

I've been here less than a week and I've seen 120 gang members saved. Every gang leader in Port Moresby is now converted to Jesus Christ. The main leader who was converted the first day has now turned himself into the law and is being taken away to the prison where he had escaped. But soon he'll be released for they said they had never seen such a change.

There has been a drought here. It hasn't rained since March. People have been praying for rain. Today it rained the heaviest rain on record. All the people were saying, "It's the cross! It's the cross! The cross came and it has begun to rain."

Today I carried the cross through the largest village in Papua New Guinea. The chief and the old men of the village presented me with the most important thing they could give me, a necklace with a huge boar's tusk with shells all around it and two nuts. I was made me a New Guinea tribesman. They also gave a similar one to Joshua. Now we are real Papua New Guinea people!

Well, if I said this was a glorious Christmas Eve, it would be a poor adjective. This day is beyond words!

I started carrying the cross today at 8:00am in Mount Hagen. Hundreds followed us everywhere. People in grass skirts, some in little bark G-string skirts, others with feathers in their hair, some in western dress. All came to hear the word of God, and to see for a moment what was happening. The man with the cross was here. The power of God poured out. People were on their knees with their hands raised. People were crying out to Jesus. I preached over and over. At noon today I preached in a huge market. Then right out side of the primitive jungle I saw two very old men sitting at the foot of the cross touching it. One was wearing a G-string and the other was in old pants. They were so precious. I asked a fellow to try to talk to them but they couldn't communicate. They seemed to have heard about Jesus but knew nothing about the cross, yet they were drawn to it. They were touching every bit of the cross, looking at every inch of it. Finally, we found someone who could interpret and both of the men gave their lives to Jesus.

I preached on this Christmas Eve night at the Philadelphia Church. It was one of the greatest movements I have ever seen. As I was preaching in the crowded building, with a sea of black faces surrounding me, around the walls and out the door, the Lord gave me a vision. I could see all the people for 2,000 years; the black, red, brown, white, every color, every look, of every description and I could see them all glorying to the cross, glorying in the Lord.

I was preaching on the Scripture passage where the angels sang the night that Jesus was born, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men." The angels were glorifying God and I was thinking of all the people through all the ages of every color that had gloried in the cross and gloried in Jesus. I was crying, the people were crying. It was awesome. You could feel inside the church that the angels were there!

It seemed as though Jesus must have been standing outside the church. No one saw anything, no one was looking out, but I've never been in a meeting where I felt the Lord was just standing there and all around. His glory, His angels. We glorified God like in Revelation 5 where it says, "Worthy is the lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessings."

These were primitive people and God was visiting them and they were all crying out. It went on and on and on. The whole church was caught up in the glory of the Lord and we glorified God and praised Him. I never wanted to leave this place for it was the greatest Christmas Eve I had ever spent in my life, but I had to leave. I was to preach on down the road. I continued on with the cross. The people followed me. They were singing and clapping. It was just beautiful as we walked with the cross. Joshua was with me, and my interpreter, Charles. We had left the Protestant Church and we went to the Catholic Church. The priest had asked me to come that night and preach at this, the most important Mass of the year, Christmas Eve Mass, just as it turned into Christmas Day. The word was out that I was coming. Thousands of people packed the church and stood all around it. Seas of people inside and out. We pushed through the crowd as they priests wanted me to bring the cross to the front. I carried it up to the altar. The priests were Polish and American, so when I got there they had me speak and the glory of God came strongly and powerfully. I shared about Jesus and people coming to the cross of Jesus at His birth. The people were smiling and crying. I prayed for the people to invite Jesus into their hearts. There was no way to have an altar call, for there were so many people you couldn't move. But it was glorious! Jesus was there! I don't think it could have been any more wonderful than it was the night Jesus was born except we could have seen him face to face. It seemed that the Lord was all around the place, too!

The priests took me to the back into the little place where they lived and we ate some cake and prayed together. We cried and made a circle and hugged each other, and spoke of the beautiful love of the Lord. I stood there with those priests who had sacrificed marriage and children, full of the love of Jesus, working and giving their lives in the cause of Christ. That Christmas Eve night, first in a Protestant church, then in a Catholic, the unifying bond of Jesus Christ was the greatest Christmas Eve I've ever had. I've seen a great move of God's Spirit in Papua New Guinea. It is powerful!

Praise the Lord, it has been 11 years today, December 25, 1980, that I have been carrying the cross around the world. And here I am in the jungles of New Guinea on Christmas Day. Hallelujah!

All down the road today there is nothing but a sea of black faces. People were pouring out of the mountains onto the narrow trail. As far as you can see, women suckling babies, carrying loads, old men, young women, hundreds, thousands - people rush up saying, "I'm a bad sinner can you help me?" What an awesome, awesome time!

January 1, 1981- God performed a mighty miracle today. Peace was the word and salvation came. This is a time of heavy violence in the nation and in this area it is at its worst. There is war between the tribes. No traffic on the highway today, only Army and police patrols. Load after load of them drove down the highway toward where the fighting was centered. We were warned by the Christians not to walk but I felt we couldn't concede one day to the devil. We can't concede one moment to him!

We were on the road at 4:30am. Crowds all along the way were waiting to see the cross, not to fight. The police were amazed. It was all peaceful. The first peaceful New Year in many years. All were waiting for the cross to arrive.

Today deep conviction, the glory gets more, more, if it's possible. We climbed up an 8,093 foot mountain today. Not many people were at the top, but when we came down, wow! It was unbelievable! We met a crowd of about 100 men, all carrying spears and bows and arrows. I preached to them. They had on little G-strings and war marks all over their faces. I found out they had come from miles around. One of the chiefs handed me a spear and through an interpreter said, "We welcome you. We have gathered to greet you. You are a man of God." Then he held up the spear and presented it to me. He said, "This is our spear of war, but the cross has brought peace to us. We surrender the spear to the power of the cross. We have heard about Jesus and the cross, now we've seen it."

They all knelt and gave their lives to Jesus Christ. Hallelujah!

I was walking down the road one day and saw a group of about 50 people. Through the interpreter I found they had walked for three days to see the cross and to see me. I shared with them about Jesus. They had walked for three days and had sat on the roadside for three days, and then I showed up... six days to see the cross!! After I preached and shared everything I knew about Jesus, I kissed them and prepared to leave. As I started to walk away, my interpreter Charles said, "Arthur."

"What?" I asked, as I turned back to him.

"These people say you said that Jesus was coming again and that we should be ready for His coming, that He had been born, lived without sin, died on the cross, rose again and ascended into heaven. We have a question to ask you. We heard that the man with the cross was coming and they walked for three days and waited for three days, then you came. They are wondering if they should wait for Jesus here at the roadside or should they go on back to their village?"

Tears poured down my cheeks as I thought of the tremendous thrill and excitement they had for the return of Christ. It was so powerful to see those who were so excited about the return of Jesus, should they stay and wait for Him or should they go back to their village. Glory to God.

January 5- A sea of people as far as the eye can see, clear to the top of the hill, all the way back down to the road, the road completely blocked. It was chaos. The largest meeting I've had so far. Thousands and thousands of people. They crowded around. It was awesome. I preached a sermon in the center of the city. People were weeping, they were on their knees, they were crying. It was just unbelievable ... unbelievable! Glory, glory!

Today was another one of those unbelievable days. It was glorious, a day of salvation and joy. Thousands welcomed the cross into the city. The highway was blocked as thousands poured into the streets. All the police were trying their best to keep a little bit of order, but it was hopeless. There must have been 25,000 to 30,000 people lining the roads for miles into town. It was impossible to stop and preach to all of them because the entire road was blocked. One can never know what is it like to see this... the people along the road, in the trees, standing on the tops of cars, sitting on top of houses, waving and cheering, pushing and shoving, pushing and shoving to see and follow along for awhile. The power of God fell as I preached hard. At noon it was a sea of people. Thousands prayed and confessed Jesus Christ as their savior.

Tonight I saw something I've never seen in this same way before. Normally I only preach and never pray for the sick to be healed, but preaching outside at a Rally tonight I felt the Lord tell me to pray for the sick. I wanted to resist, but the Lord said, "No, do it now."

I asked all the sick people to raise their hands and for everyone to look around for the sick near them, then I prayed over the crowd to be healed. There were screams and shouts from all over the place and then I asked for all who had been healed to raise their hands. Many people raised their hands. I asked if there was anyone that wasn't healed if they would raise their hands and there was no one! Everyone was healed! Probably 150 people. Some were healed of the most terrible afflictions that one could imagine. The place was shaken! God never led me to pray for a crowd of people to be healed again for months, it was one time. Again, I don't understand it, but I know His power to heal is real. Praise the Lord!

The front page of the local newspaper showed a picture of a little nude black boy. He had gotten lost in front of the hospital as a huge crowd had surged past trying to see the cross. He was swept up in the crowd. The police had looked for him all over the city and finally two people found him wandering along the road far from where he had been reported lost. A picture of this little boy and then the picture of me and the cross on the front page. What a sensation!

Glory to God... the glory fell today! I preached time after time in this town and then tonight, as I stood to preach, the glory of God came. People began to weep and to wail ... it was unreal. So strong was the conviction of God that I stopped preaching. I felt God say "120 people will surrender to preach."

I gave the invitation for preachers. When we counted, 120 people were standing at the front to go out and preach the good news of Jesus. Hundreds and hundreds of others were saved. It is a spirit or repentance that has been sweeping this place, deep conviction of sin. People overcome with guilt and sadness with a desire to be clean. One man came running up and said, "Give me a new name."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"A witch doctor gave me my name," he said. "But now I know Jesus and I want a new name."

I gave him my name.

Today I took a boat from Mudang to Wewak. It was an unbelievable trip. A trip that was supposed to only take about 12 hours took 24 hours. A huge storm came up and the boat almost sank. Waves swept up and over the boat. I was sick without stop for 24 hours. Got off the boat where crowds of people were waiting for me to preach and to see the man with the cross.

Glory to God! Today I saw over 5,000 people converted. It was a massive response. People as far as you could see in every direction in this small town of maybe 2,000 or 3,000 people. The police and Army said there were from 10,000 to 15,000 people in the town.

Manus Island- Mike and I arrived here by airplane, unloaded the cross and came into the little town. Today was a day of the glory of the Lord. It was just one of the most wonderful days that one could ever live in this world. Unbelievable, awesome. Crowds were gathering before we got up. I preached 22 times today, from 8:00am to 12:30 the next day. Almost non-stop, preaching every where; in the market, stores, schools, the hospital, a radio station, at the government headquarters. There was a little boy that followed me all day and he called me his father. I loved him, oh, I loved him. Everyone from all over the island is coming to see the cross. Deep conviction, everyone wanting to shake my hand. I have never seen such hand-shakers! People under deep conviction!

A committee from the Catholic Church asked me to speak there tonight and carry the cross. The Evangelical Church decided to unite with them. When we gathered at the Catholic Church, people were everywhere. All over the altar, all over the floor, the seats. Standing inside and outside were hundreds and hundreds more. It was glorious singing. It was pouring torrential rains, yet no one outside left. They were soaking wet hour after hour. It was awesome. I believe it was one of the more spirit-filled meetings I have ever seen. I preached in the glorious power of the Holy Spirit. I stood the cross up and began to preach as the people wept and wailed. Seven people stood and gave testimonies of their having received Jesus as personal Savior, and then as I gave the invitation, crowds of people flooded the front. People were weeping. Their hands were on the cross. It was unbelievable. Hour after hour after hour. I finally went over to the priest's house at three o'clock in the morning and we talked, returned and the church was still packed, people crying and weeping. In the early morning hours I lay down and went to sleep. It was just an unbelievable February 10th.

February 11-Well, yesterday was a most unbelievable and glorious day. What could top yesterday? Today! In the morning I met with the Acting Prime Minister of Manus Island and then went to the airport. I'll never forget two ladies that met me there. They had come all the way across the island to see me. They had arrived too late, so they got a ride to the airport just before the small propeller plane arrived. Two ladies came running up, their front teeth were rotted out, and they were chewing beetle nuts, which when mixed with lime makes a red juice which is a kind of dope. Their hair was a mess and they were smoking cigarettes, but they were smiling and crying and hugging me. They were so happy. I knelt and prayed with them and they gave their lives to Jesus Christ. I think it is one of the most beautiful scenes of pure love I've ever witnessed, for they weren't concerned about their hair, their dress, or their missing teeth... but smiling, and with open arms they welcomed me at the airport.

We flew in today to Kavieng on the island of New Ireland. It was unbelievable. All of the businesses in town, all over the island, were closed. People came from surrounding islands as far as 100 miles away by boat. For over 200 miles on land people had come to see the cross. The town will hold maybe 3,000 people, but there were at least 15,000 people in the area today. A whole city was blocked off. The police had put up roadblocks and barricades. The schools were closed and the government offices were closed. The Pastor said that most of the people he had never even been in the city. They had announced on the radio that I was coming and the word had spread by mouth. Deep conviction was everywhere. I cannot describe the spirit of the people.

I preached impassioned ... the whole place was shaken by the power of God.

In less than three months in Papua New Guinea, I had preached to over a quarter of a million people. Almost 70,000 people had confessed Jesus Christ and I had preached 493 times in less than three months.

Yesterday Joshua and I looked at the map and saw two little islands hundreds of miles out into the sea.

"Joshua," I said. "That is where we need to go. The Lord has a boat waiting to take us there tomorrow."

Willie, my interpreter, said there was no boat in the town to take us. There was not even port at this town where boats and ships could come ashore.

I carried the cross through the little town and there was great response. The people said there were no boats going to the islands, but Joshua and I carried our crosses to the sea shore and there, where a river ran into the ocean among the small fishing boats, was a big boat.

"Where is that boat going?" I asked.

We discovered that it was going to the two islands we had seen on the map. Romblon and Sibuyan. It never stopped here, but there had been a typhoon and it had made a stop to take on emergency supplies for the homeless on those two islands which had been devastated by the typhoon.

Friday, January 29- Sibuyan Island-This Island is being shaken. Carrying the cross now for two days here. I was up in the mountains yesterday with so many primitive people, it is just awesome. It is a very poor place with no electricity on the island and only a few single generators for private homes. Today I preached to hundreds of people, had dinner with the Catholic Parish priest at his church, and tonight I am spending the night with people from the Evangelical Church.

Late this afternoon three ladies arrived at the little house where we were staying. They had one of the few vehicles on the island, and had driven for two hours trying to find us. One of the ladies was in charge of the school system. They were sick and wanted to be healed. One of the ladies had huge, swollen legs and the other two had crippled hands. They believed that they would be healed. I explained the gospel to them, we prayed and they gave their lives to Jesus. As I knelt to pray for them again I knew that God could heal them, but I didn't know for certain that He would, because most of the time I don't see the people healed. I remembered other mighty miracles that I had seen. I started to pray louder to compensate for doubt. I started to pray longer, hoping that time would make my prayers more persuasive, but then I cast that all aside to speak frankly to Jesus.

"Lord, I know you have the power to heal these ladies. I don't understand why most of the time I don't see people healed, but I know You can. I don't know that You will, but I ask You to, I trust them into Your hands. Heal them right now in Jesus' name."

"It's a miracle!" they cried out.

I looked up. The lady's legs were in perfect condition and the other two ladies' crippled hands were absolutely healed! I was shaken. They begged me to come to their town and pray for more sick people. "We need you, we need Jesus," they said.

I had planned to leave in the morning, but I was told there were crowds of people coming down from the mountain. They are planning to see you on Sunday. You must stay, you must stay. The three ladies left praising God, and I lay on my little bed shaken by the glory of the healing power of God.

Saturday, January 30-Wow! What a day! Unbelievable and glorious! People arrived in the morning and said, "You must go to Cajidiocan. Great crowds of people are waiting there for you."

I planned to walk with the cross, but they urged me to go now, so the cross was placed on a little three wheel motorcycle and we made our way to the town of Cajidiocan. There were crowds of people waiting all along the streets. Joshua and I were taken into a house and then to an upper room. As we walked into the room everyone was gazing at us. I tried to meet the people, but they were very hesitant. I didn't know what was happening but something very strange was going on. In a moment they brought in a little boy in and sat him down. He looked at me and began to speak. The whole place began to weep and people rushed up and began to touch me. It was an unbelievable sight. I said, "What's going on?" This is the story they told.

Yesterday at 11:30 in the morning the school in a little town called San Fernando on the other side of the island turned out. San Fernando is about 45 or 50 miles from where I was. As school let out, little children went back to their houses for lunch. One of the boys came up to a man who was carrying a cross with a wheel on it, an American white man with a beard and long hair. The man gave him a Jesus sticker, smiled, and said, "God loves you."

The other children saw the same thing. The little boy ran into his house and said, "Mama, Mama, there is a man outside with a big cross!"

His mother looked out and couldn't see anything. She went out into the street and could see nothing except the other children and they said, "Yes, he was here just a few minutes ago. He went down the street."

Her husband is the chief of police, so she went to him and asked if he had seen a man carrying a cross, and he said, "No, but I've heard reports that there is a man with a cross on the other side of the island, (the island is 90 miles around) but he's not over here. I think he is at the Catholic Church over there."

"No," she said. "The children have just seen him here."

Well, they had brought this child and his mother to town today to see if I was the same man that had given the child the sticker and the child said, "This is the man that gave me the Jesus sticker."

But about 11:00 yesterday I was preaching along the road outside the Catholic Church and was ready to have dinner with the priest at 12:00. I had begun to feel very faint and very tired and exhausted. I thought I was going to pass out. I said, "Joshua, we've got to try to find some place for me to sit down and get something cool to drink. I'm about to pass out. I'm very sick."

We went over to the house where we were to have dinner with the priest. He wasn't there at the time, so I sat down on the porch and drank a little water. Crowds were all around me, but I lay my head down on the railing of the porch, very exhausted, completely tired and faint, and for half an hour I was asleep. At 12:00 they woke me up, saying the priest had arrived for dinner. I felt very weak but stronger, so I ate. I went to the house where I was going to spend the night and lay down until the three ladies came, wanting me to pray with them to be healed.

I don't remember anything at all about taking a trip or going in my mind to the other side of the island or anything. I just have to think that it was a vision for I was not here, Joshua was with me. But the boy had a Jesus sticker and they said the whole town over there is waiting for you to come. Well, here in this upper room for a total of seven hours, I prayed for the sick. They came from towns all around. It is indescribable, one person after another being healed, hundreds healed, all the people that came for healing prayers.

Then the cross was put back on a three wheel motorcycle and me on another and we went over to San Fernando on the other side of the island. When I got to the edge of town I unloaded the cross and carried it into town. Driving with the cross is not my normal way of travel, but something was happening that was so strong and powerful that it was indescribable. I carried the cross through the town and was preaching along the way. All the people were out to see me because their children had said they had seen me the day before with the cross and many of the children had Jesus stickers.

Then I was taken to a house where there was a dying man. This was their main mission.

I arrived in front of the house and stood in the street to preach before I went in to see the sick man. The priest had given him the last rites. They said there was no hope, for he hadn't been out of bed for weeks and it was just a matter of time until he would step into eternity. As I was preaching and Willie was trying to interpret, suddenly the crowd was in a state of shock.

"What's happening?" I asked.

A man stepped up and said, "Don't stop now, keep on."

I didn't know who the man was, but I started preaching again and he began to interpret perfectly. In just a moment he stopped. He was touching himself all over and asked, "What's happened, what's happened?"

"Man," I said. "Don't stop now, you're doing a good job. I'm preaching."

"I'm supposed to be dead," he said.

"Are you the sick man that was dying in there?"

"Yes," he said. "I went to sleep for the first time in weeks. Sound asleep, without pain. And when I woke up I looked out my window and I could see a cross and a man with long hair and a beard."

He said he thought it was Jesus that had come to get him, and he leaped out of bed and ran out in the yard to meet Jesus. He didn't know that it was me, and then he started interpreting, and he was perfectly well. He was healed! The people were crying and weeping. They called the Catholic priest. He came and looked at the man. We talked for a bit and he said, "Would you preach in the morning at my church at the 6:00am Mass? We'll spread the word. People are coming in from all around the villages and coming down the mountain, for they have heard you are here."

I agreed to do so, and Sunday morning, January 31st, I preached at the San Fernando Catholic Church at the six o'clock Mass. Huge crowds filled the church and overflowed outside to see the cross. The man gave testimony of how he was healed, and what the Lord had done. All the people knew him, for he was one of the most prominent men on the island. I was crying. The people were crying. People were healed. I had refreshments with the priest and then got a ride on another motorcycle back to the other side of the island. I arrived back late in the day, exhausted and sleepy. God had moved in mighty healing power and salvation for three days. Every person I had prayed for had been healed. All glory to God! But this was the last healing I saw in the Philippines. God had moved for three days in healing power, but I wasn't to see such a thing again for many, many months.

Today I carried the cross to the seaside and was beside a little boat with long poles on each side. The kind you see on a typical South Sea island pontoon boat. There was a crowd of people that I preached to and after I had finished preaching and praying, I carried the cross toward the boat. There was a long board from the side of the bank to the boat docked about 15 feet from the water's edge. I thought surely I could carry the cross on that board. As I stepped onto the board and started walking with the big cross toward the boat, I realized I had made a mistake. "Oh, Jesus, help me."

A big wave crashed into the boat and the board took a high rise and then a deep. It was too much for me. The cross and I both plunged toward the water. I gave the cross a push so I wouldn't land on it and both of us crashed into the sea. Thank you, Lord, the cross floated. I grabbed it and swam back toward the bank. People helped me up. There I was, wet and embarrassed. Some of the local people grabbed the cross and hoisted it onto the boat, and Joshua and I got on; I was dripping wet.

It was an hour and a half trip from the island of Sibuyan to Romblon. After about a half-hour the water began to get rougher and rougher, with waves sweeping over the boat as the storm sprang up almost immediately. For hours we fought the waves. Joshua and I were on top of the boat with about 50 other people inside and out. I had my arms wrapped around Joshua and around the cross. Huge waves came completely over the top of the boat. Everyone thought we were going to sink. We almost crashed against the rocks. Men would rush out to the edge of the pontoon to try to balance the boat, holding onto the ropes as the waves swept over them. I prayed ... everyone prayed, and God saved us from the storm. It was an absolute miracle. Even the captain of the boat said he thought we were going to sink.

Joshua and I were carrying the cross around the island of Romblon, famous for its marble quarries. When the trail ended we were on a little track going up over a high hill through the dense jungle. When we arrived at the top I was carrying my cross and Joshua was carrying his. I stopped, breathing heavily, and looked back. Joshua was making his way slowly behind me. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as that precious 10-year-old boy was walking with his cross.

"Joshua, what's wrong?"

He gritted his teeth and he looked straight ahead with a determined look on his face. He said, "I'm okay, Daddy."

"Joshua," I said. "Joshua, what's wrong? Stop. Where are you hurting?"

He stood there, and I said, "How are your feet?"

He didn't say a word. I told him, "Take off your boots."

He took off his walking boots and as he did, I saw blood soaking his socks. I looked at his feet. They had blistered and the blisters had burst and had blistered again, and now it was just open wounds and blood oozing from his feet.

"Joshua, why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

He looked at me. "Daddy, I decided I would walk as far as I could until I couldn't take another step."

Tears poured down my cheeks. Here I was with Joshua, my precious 10-year-old son. Jesus had called him to take up a cross and carry it beside his father around the world. This was his first trip with me. He was walking beside me with my 12-foot cross and he with an 8-foot cross, and not a word of complaint about food, a bed, or even blistered feet. I was almost speechless. The commitment of this holy child!

"Joshua," I said. "When we get to the next village we will stop and spend the night and I'll try to help you with your feet."

He said, "Daddy, Jesus told me not the next village, but the next village. Two villages from now, there is a three-wheel motorcycle waiting and we can get a ride to town and spend the night in town and leave the cross in the village."

"Well," I said. "Let's go!"

I wondered, a motorcycle and a three-wheel motorcycle at that, in two villages from here where there is no way here even for a bicycle to he ridden!

We kept walking and arrived in the next village. I said, "Joshua, let's stay."

"No, Daddy," he said. "In the next village is where there is a three-wheel motorcycle waiting for us."

After sharing Jesus in that village we walked on along beautiful, beautiful cliffs overlooking the ocean. As we reached the top of the hill and started down, there was a wide trail. Crowds of people were in the village and when we drew near I could see a three-wheel motorcycle. Joshua and I rushed up with our crosses. A man stepped out of the little hut and said, "I am a doctor. Welcome to this village."

He explained to us that once every four or five months he comes to these remote areas. This is the last village he can get to on his motorcycle. When he comes to a stream, the village people wade out into the river, put the motorcycle over their heads, and carry it across the stream, and then when he goes back, they do it the same way.

Joshua said, "Could we leave our cross here and get a ride on your motorcycle back to town so we can spend the night in town?"

"Yes," the man said. "I'd love for you to."

We left our crosses in the village, rode back into town with the doctor on his three-wheel motorcycle. The revelation of God to Joshua was accurate and true. I can say this, in four years of walking with Joshua I have never known him to speak of anything the Lord told him that did not come to pass!

CEBU CITY, PHILIPPINES- Well, today is an historic day. The first cross to be carried on foot around the world, together with the first cross taken to the other side of the world by Magellan. Magellan's cross is now mounted inside the city in an enclosed area. As I looked at the cross, thinking of the first time that cross came to the Cebu City, a historic cross, but also another historic cross... this one, carried by foot around the world. I remembered the Christ who died on the cross. Tears, sadness and joy filled my heart. Hallelujah!

**********

16. LEBANON

The beautiful George V Hotel in Paris was my home for the night. I was on the same floor as our hosts, Graham Lacey and Cecil McBride. We had celebrated the Lords’ supper together, remembering the body of Christ as we blessed the bread and ate it. Then we blessed the wine and drank it, remembering the blood of Jesus which was shed for our sins. We sang a song and afterwards we had foot washing as recorded in the Gospel of John, Chapter 13.

Graham and Cecil had come to see me off. I was going to strife-torn Lebanon with the cross. Another war lay ahead. My life was on the line again to carry the cross, spread love and work for peace.

Jesus said of the bread and wine, “Do this in remembrance of me.” We did and my mind was full of Him as I flew into Beirut, Lebanon on June 6, 1980.

Full of love, prayer, excitement and joy, I arrived at the airport in Beirut. I didn’t have a visa, so I was detained at Immigration. Finally I was allowed to collect the cross with it arrived with my baggage. I had been told the PLO would welcome me and there was no need for a visa, which was impossible to get anyway. I was taken to the door, ready to be put back on the plane. I had not made it in after all.

“Oh, Jesus,” I prayed, “I’m not afraid to die here but I don’t want to just get here and not get in the country. Lord help me get on with the cross walk.

Suddenly there was a big commotion. Men with guns were facing each other, and then I saw Mr. Bandack, whom I had met at the Presidential Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C. earlier this year. They had found me! The Palestinian Liberation Army troops led me through the airport; guns were more persuasive than a visa. Television and news crews were waiting for me. Children sang and welcomed me. What a wonderful welcome. Who would believe the welcome of the cross in West Beirut? I’ll never forget their words…”We welcome you with your cross. We also carry a cross. We understand you and Jesus.”

I was in an area of Beirut controlled by the PLO and other Muslim forces. I was welcomed with opened arms and encountered no problems. I preached the gospel of Jesus in freedom and carried the cross in most of the Palestinian refugee camps, including Satilla (also known as Shatila or Chatila) and Sabra. (In 1982 these camps were destroyed in a massacre.) I carried the cross in Tyre, where Jesus had been and where one of the earliest churches was founded. Recently, bombs had hit, but the dear followers of Jesus did not flee; as they had refused to do for the past 2,000 years.

I also went up to Bedford Castle, a strategic military base, which overlooks Israel. I could look out and see where I’d carried the cross in Israel in 1977. I also carried the cross into the Palestine Christian Refugee Camps. Many people think that the PLO is only Muslims, but there are many Christians from the cities of Palestine, Bethlehem, Nazareth and other cities.

A Catholic priest walked with me and translated as I preached the gospel. Large crowds gathered to see the cross and hear the world of Christ. People wanted to take me to another church several miles away in West Beirut. I wanted to walk but some of the people thought it was too far.

“Oh, we will help you,” and a group of young soldiers grabbed the cross and put it on the jeep. The jeep had a machine gun mounted on its top. Ten young men from 13-17 years old held the cross on the jeep. Only two of the boys were in uniform, the others were dressed in civilian clothes. A fifteen year old was driving. All the young men had machine guns except for a midget who carried the ammunition. I leaped on the jeep as it took off. What a sight, the 12-foot cross, me and a Bible with about ten armed teenagers of the PLO on a jeep racing through the streets of Beirut. What a way to die!

At one point the jeep almost turned over. The horn was blowing, the engine was racing at full speed and we almost hit a car. The midget lost some of his bullets but the driver roared off without letting him retrieve them. We passed blown-up buildings and numerous roadblocks. Traffic lights didn’t work so troops waved us through the intersections with their guns. The biggest gun had the right-of-way.

Finally, we arrived at the church. I must have been quite a sight – me and the boys. The young men took the cross off the jeep and carried it into the church. The priest was stunned and could not speak. Here, a group of Muslim gunmen carrying the cross into a church with me walking behind it. He welcomed me with a big smile.

I spied a large poster on the wall that looked like a ‘No Smoking’ poster. I asked one of the armed men what it meant.

He began to laugh.

“What does it mean?” I insisted.

“Oh, it says smoking may be dangerous to your health.”

“Why is that so funny?” I asked.

“Well, when you are the bodyguard for Yasser Arafat, smoking is one of the safest things you can do. We won’t live long enough to die of cancer.”

I stood looking at the small man in the Palestinian head wrap. A pistol was strapped to his hip; his eyes were alive and sparkling. I was somewhere in West Beirut on Sunday, June 22, 1980. A pilgrim of the world, carrying the cross, holding my Bible and a small cross. It was 2:00am and here I am with the chairman of the Palestinian Liberation Organization and Commander-in-Chief of their army. A hero and patriot in the eyes of much of the world; and in the opinion of others, the world’s chief terrorist. I was looking into the face of Yasser Arafat. Some of his men had come at midnight and awakened me saying, “Yasser Arafat wants to see you.” I knew of him and he knew of me.

I dressed quickly and went in a car with the gunmen. They drove with no lights through the battle-strewn streets of Beirut. Now we stood facing each other. I spoke first.

“It’s one fanatic meeting another,” I smiled.

He reached out his arms and hugged me and we exchanged kisses in the traditional Arab custom. What a meeting! Two radicals…one with a cross and the other with a gun.

We sat down. I seemed to know him and feel his struggle, pain and hurts. We were both liked forged steel in our paths of life.

“Sir, it’s two o’clock in the morning. You’ve had a long day and a long struggle. I ask you to listen to the words of someone who loves you, understands you and can help you. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. His name is Jesus. I’m not here as a politician, a diplomat or a reporter. You’ve seen plenty of those. I’m here as a simple man with a cross. I come as a man of God. I’m going to read words of Jesus from the Bible.”

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of God. Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.”

On and on I read from the word of God, from the books of Matthew, Mark, John and II Corinthians. The Holy Spirit of God was so strong in the room. Jesus had promised that any time two or three are gathered together in His name ‘There I am in the midst of them.’

I took Mr. Arafat’s hand and said, “Let’s pray.”

I knelt for fifteen minutes and talked to God. I was crying, Mr. Arafat had taken my hand into both of his and tears filled his eyes. When I finished praying he spoke softly, “There is no doubt, the Bible is more powerful than the gun or the sword. The Romans tried to kill Christianity by beating, imprisoning and murdering Christians. But slowly, the believers, the Christians, took Rome and Rome became Christian. They took it by the heart. They did with a cross what no army had been able to do.”

For two hours we talked about Jesus and the cross. I explained how Jesus had died for us and why He was the Way, the Truth and the Life. I gave him a small cross and he presented me with a two-foot high mother of pearl cross from the Holy Land. We discussed everything from war to Israel to love. I won’t write about all our conversation as most of it is very private, but I will say this, as a person, and hear me very clearly, he is one of the most gentle and kindest men I have ever met. We have many different opinions, but we are friends, just as I am a friend of many Jews in Israel and other people I’ve known in wars all over the world.

We parted at 5:00 in the morning. I returned to my hotel room but the fighting all around the hotel was so terrible I couldn’t sleep. Shells were exploding and gunfire pierced the night, rattling the building. In the midst of war – where is peace?

My mind was full of thoughts about the things we had discussed. The Palestinians and Jews. Surely these people, who have suffered so much injustice, discrimination, suffering and death, could find peace. If any two cultures could understand each other, it should be these two. They are from the same land, from the same father, Abraham, and the same persecution, trouble and displacement. Surely there is hope. At the cross there is a place of peace and reconciliation between God and man. A place of forgiveness, not revenge. Of love, not hate.

As dawn came, the fighting ceased and I could sleep and dream, for if we ever cease to dream of peace, of beauty, of love and life, we are dead even before we die.

The Battle of Lebanon – I want to give a brief account of Joshua and my travels in and out of Lebanon and Israel during the war in the summer of 1982.

The first time we were in Lebanon was from June 29^th to July 7. We rented a car at Tel Aviv and drove to Beirut. We carried the cross in West Beirut, then on to East Beirut. We then drove back to Tel Aviv and flew to the United States to try to meet with our government leaders, which proved to be futile. I then went to Poland to carry the cross. Joshua re-joined me in Greece and we flew to Cyprus. We boarded an old ship and sailed to Lebanon. We carried the cross from Juniyah to West Beirut, where we stayed until the siege of Beirut ended with the evacuation of the PLO.

Next we carried the cross on foot to Sidon, to Tyre and into Israel through the West Bank to Jerusalem. In 1977, I arrived to carry the cross around Israel and Palestine. I began at Bethlehem to Jericho, then to Galilee, up to Mount Hermon, back through the Golan Heights to Nazareth, Haifa, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Then, in 1980 I carried the cross in Cairo, Egypt, through Gaza and then into Sinai Desert. I was in Lebanon in 1980 and also that year Joshua, Joel and I carried the cross through Jordan and Cyprus. In 1971 I carried the cross in Morocco, North Africa and Ceuta, a small Spanish possession. I carried the cross through Turkey in 1981.

In 1982, Joshua, Joy and I had been carrying the cross in Lebanon and then we walked from Oslo, Norway to Stockholm, Sweden. When we arrived in Sweden we went to Gothenburg to rest for the weekend. I learned that war had broken out in Lebanon but didn’t know any of the details.

On Sunday morning, June 27^th, I saw a photograph of Yasser Arafat and other people that I knew on the front page of a Swedish newspaper. The Lord grabbed my heart, wringing the insides of me with a deep burden to go back to Lebanon with the cross. As I went to the airport to buy a copy of the Herald Tribune printed in English, I was praying, “If You will have some other evangelist go, then I won’t have to go to this war. If I read in the paper that Billy Graham, the Pope or someone else was in West Beirut…,” but as I scanned through the paper there was no mention of an evangelist in West Beirut sharing Jesus.

About midnight, Joy, Joshua and I were praying and Jesus spoke to Joshua. Joshua looked up and saw Jesus standing in the room behind me as I was lying down praying. Jesus spoke to him and said, Joshua, go with your father to the other countries as far as you can go.”

Joshua told me of his vision and we knew we had to go to West Beirut. I kept wrestling with the call. Oh, a horrible war, taking my son, both of us with crosses. But the Lord had spoken to me by a lakeside and there was no choice. I had to return to Lebanon. Here I was in beautiful Scandinavia with the sweet and wonderful people. The people we had met in Sweden were friendly and eager and I wanted so much to continue to Stockholm with the cross. But war and death were raging in Lebanon and must be offset with the good news of Jesus.

We traveled to Oslo and Joshua and I booked the first flight out to Israel. Joy returned to Los Angeles.

The following story is so true it is almost unbelievable.

Newspapers and television have reported to the world the story of Joshua and me carrying the cross through the incredible war in Lebanon. This is a story so full of miracles it would take an entire book to do it justice, but I want to share just a few with you.

When we arrived at the airport in Tel Aviv we had to decide the best way to get to West Beirut. I felt the Lord wanted us to go to West Beirut and speak to Yasser Arafat and the people again. The city was surrounded by the attacking Israeli Army that had already swept through south of Lebanon and was now pounding the surrounded PLO and Syrian forces in the city. Joshua and I rented a small white Italian Bianchi car and tied the crosses on top. It was quite a sight. But how else do you get two crosses and a child to West Beirut in the middle of a war? All the news people traveling in the south had to have an army guide. It was not possible to travel around freely, but God used a few very different people to accomplish our mission for Him. A young man from ‘Youth with a Mission,’ an atheist girl from Norway, two Maronite Monks, an Israeli officer and a Philangist commander.

After a prayer meeting with the leaders of the Baptist Church and another prayer meeting with the staff at the Christian Embassy, Paul Crouch from TBN and David Mainse of 100 Huntley Street Television in Canada, Joshua and I set off for the north.

The roads were teeming with troops, tanks and armored cars, all heading in a northerly direction. Joshua, only 11 years old, had the glory of the Lord upon his face as I looked at him. Tears filled my eyes as I wondered what lay ahead.

We arrived at the border and attempted to cross. We were told, “Come back tomorrow with some of the Christians from the Christian Mission across the border. We will let you in for a few kilometers!”

I met the Christian leaders, but they were very fearful about Joshua and me going to meet Yasser Arafat and trying to carry the cross around Beirut. They were afraid that our problems would reflect on them and that the risk was too great. I was deeply hurt because all we needed was for one of them to say that we were their friends and we would be allowed to cross into Lebanon. We could only travel about five miles into the country, but it would be a start and then we would need to get permission to go further.

A young man arrived to help distribute aid to the homeless in south Lebanon. He was on the staff of ‘Youth with a Mission,’ a worldwide outreach of thousands of committed youth sharing Christ around the world. His name was Homer Lanier.

Homer said, “I heard the great Bible teacher Joy Dawson speak on the island of Cyprus a while back. She told us you are a true man of God and if any of us could ever help you in any way we were to do so.

“I do love that lady,” I told him.

“Well, I could not live with myself if I could help you and did not. I’ll go to the border and tell the guards we are friends, no matter what the other Christians say.”

We went together and in less than ten minutes I had a pass to travel the five miles into Lebanon. It was a first step!

We went to the Israeli Army Headquarters in Lebanon to get a pink slip which was needed to pass through the lines. It is impossible, we were told. Joshua and I prayed and drove to a small town. There was a Christian radio station there, but it was run by some of the same people that were fearful of helping us. I saw a little restaurant on a hill. There were other restaurants around, but I felt this was where we should go.

Joshua had to put rocks under the wheels of the car to keep it from sliding down the steep hill. I went in the restaurant to get us something to eat and drink. I ordered a drink and noticed a blonde girl standing over to the side. She smiled, and I spoke to her as she stepped over to me. “It’s strange to see you here.” “ Well, I’m Norwegian,” she replied.

I told her that I had just come from Norway and had been carrying the cross there and around the world.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

I said that I felt the Lord told me to leave Sweden to come to West Beirut to talk with Mr. Arafat and the people in West Beirut.

“Shhh,” she said softly. “Don’t say that here. We are the ones they are fighting.”

Finally, I explained everything to her and that we needed to get permission to continue. She said, “My boyfriend is a bodyguard for one of the men you need to see…one of the commanders.”

She left to find him. He was a very nice young man and understood our mission. He took us to his commander’s house and we ate with him. After we finished eating, he called the Israeli Commander and asked that we be given the pink paper which would give us full freedom to travel all through Israeli territory.

The commander was so moved by the presence of Joshua that he begged me to let Joshua stay with them and for me to go on alone, but Joshua said, “I will go with daddy.” The commander responded, “The PLO will kill you.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t think they will kill us. They will probably say you would kill us.”

I gave the commander my sunglasses. The commander was so kind to us. I suppose most people would have been afraid, but we were only excited to have the pink permission paper. We raced off in the car, not knowing exactly which way to go. At one point we passed some soldiers who were waving at us. In a moment, an army jeep began to chase us and we stopped. We had passed the Israeli line and were almost into the middle of the war zone at the Syrian line. We had an Israeli tag on our car! We quickly turned around and sped away.

We passed through about 30 road blocks on the way to Beirut. Over and over the troops would ask, “How did you get this paper?” I would reply, “Jehovah is my friend and He wants the cross in Beirut.”

We could see the city of Beirut just below and in front of us. There were huge tanks, artillery and rockets everywhere. This was war. Guns roared and flashes of fire filled the air. Joshua began to cry. I stopped on the roadside and held him in my arms.

“Joshua, I will take you back and return alone.”

All his life, Joshua had lived on the road with the cross. I had pushed him in his stroller through the battlefields in Northern Ireland where people were being killed. Now, this precious child was going to face death. Planes dived, dropping their bombs and we are going to walk in the war with two crosses. No wonder he wept.

“Daddy,” he said, as he wiped away his tears, “Jesus told me to go with you as far as I can. I can’t turn back. I’ll stay with you. Jesus is with us. Let’s go, I’m OK.”

He gave me a little smile and looked ahead. I gunned the engine and sped up the winding road without saying a word. It was like a cloud of glory all over us. I stopped and got out of the car and lay down in the dirt to pray. This is God’s mission for us. We were under the orders of our Commander. Maybe we would die, but we would not flee.

Two monks stood on the roadside waving for us to stop and give them a ride. They got in the car and I asked for directions to a place to sleep. They said they would take us to a place. About 100 yards ahead we were stopped by the Israeli Army and were told, “You can’t go on with that tag on your car! Someone will shoot you.

We turned around and the Monks led us in another direction around the roadblock into the port city of Juniyah, which is just north of Beirut. People were waving and blowing their horns. They had never seen an Israeli car tag in this town! We were given a room and a meal at the Monastery which was located high on top of a mountain. It was the seat of the Maronite Christian Church.

“Please let us keep Joshua tomorrow when you go into Beirut,” the monks pleased. “You will die. They killed one of our monks today.”

Joshua lay beside me on the single cot and went to sleep in my arms. A candle was my only light. From the mountain top I could see the darkness below. Beirut was being pounded by land, sea and air. Flashes of light lit the sky. I was praying and thinking.

A mosquito began to circle my arm. I thought, “Well, tomorrow or in a few hours I may die. Why not let this mosquito get his fill. I won’t hurt him, but will let him suck until he is full.

He soon lit on my arm and I waited as he put his beak through the hairs to bite me. As soon as he touched my skin he shook, flipped over on his back and kicked his legs a few times, then didn’t move again. It was amazing. The mosquito was dead! I carefully placed him on the floor and he was still there the next morning. The Lord told me when I saw the mosquito die, “My glory is upon you. Tomorrow night you will sleep in West Beirut.”

Tears flooded my face. Wave after wave of God’s glory swept over me. It’s just beyond imagination. But God’s glory was so strong on me and Joshua that the mosquito couldn’t stand it. If there are non-stinging mosquitoes in heaven, this is one that will surely be there!

Sunday, July 4^th – We were up early today, as a priest had invited us to a special Mass. “Today you die, we fear for you. Prepare to meet God.”

We were served Holy Communion, and then we drove to East Beirut, left our crosses near the lines and lay down on the ground and prayed. We felt we should go to the Museum Crossing along the Green Line dividing East and West Beirut. A policeman came up to us and said, “You will die.”

Later a man ran up, tore off his shirt and tied a white strip of cloth on top of each our crosses. He was weeping. “You will die if you go in there.” He made the sign of the cross and walked off.

I felt the covering of the glory of God, but I also knew that this feeling might be preparatory for our entrance into glory. We arrived at the Israeli line. There were tanks parked and troops in position. The sound of gunfire rattled the air. The troops stopped us and I explained our mission.

“No! We have orders that no one enters West Beirut. Yesterday the last border crossing was closed. You will die if you go in there.”

“But, sir, we have come in peace in the name of Jesus. I know General Rafael Eitan, your Commander.” “No one enters, we have orders not to let any one in, especially the news media and people of God.

They moved us across the street. Joshua and I leaned our crosses against a church and sat down to pray. “Tonight you will sleep in West Beirut.” The Lord was still speaking to me.

Some newsmen arrived and were photographing the battle line. They were accompanied by soldiers. They were near us and Joshua gave one of the men a Jesus sticker. The man looked at us and came walking over. “Did you carry that cross in the Sinai Desert in 1980?” he asked. “Yes.” “Well, I photographed you for a news magazine and always wondered what happened to you. Why are you here?”

I explained everything to him and told him that the troops would not let us in. We realized we had a mutual friend in Jerusalem, Dr. Wes Brown. Dr. Brown is a wonderful follower of Jesus. He smiled, looked deep into my eyes and said, “There may be a way to get in. I’m also an Israeli officer. You can outflank our line and slip in between where our troops and the Philangist are stationed. We slipped a reporter in that way yesterday.”

My heart leaped. His companions were calling him to leave. As he turned away, I stepped up beside him and said, “Draw me a map, please, for God, for peace, for my mission.”

His eyes watered as he looked at Joshua and his cross. He drew a map for me on a piece of paper. “I have done all I can to help you. Keep your head down. God bless you and good luck.”

I thanked him and handed him a gospel track. Just as he stepped into the car he whispered, “Keep your head down.”

I rushed to Joshua with the map. “We can get in,” I said.

We left everything in the car. I took only a small bag containing my money and our passports. We took no clothes, food or water. We did not want anyone to think that we were trying to gain entry into West Beirut. My heart was racing I was so happy, we were about to enter West Beirut. Live or die, the only thing was to get in. Sitting at the border was not what we had come for.

I picked up the cross again to start one of my most dangerous missions. Joshua and I held hands and prayed. Two men, two crosses, two white flags, two Bibles in hand and a host of angels, I’m sure. We walked along until we could make a left turn. “Is this it?” I wondered.

There were troops around and we were waved back. We then found the correct place of entry. As we started between some buildings Philangist troops were there and they moved to block our path. They summoned their commander. In English, the commander said, “You must get permission from the Israeli Army and you must cross at the Museum Crossing.”

“But God has sent us here to go inside with the cross.”

“You will be killed if you go into West Beirut!”

Again we heard the warning, but I pressed on. Maybe we will die, but we are willing to die for peace. I could tell he was shaken by the Spirit of God.

“But you must get Israeli permission!”

I cut him off, “You are the commander here. You are the Philangist. You are not Israeli. Don’t you have any authority?”

This shook him again and I saw him straighten up.

“My dear brother, we are here on a mission from God. You cannot stand in our way. Please, we have come through so much to get this far. Please in the name of Jesus, we must go in.”

God’s power and glory was overflowing. He looked long into my unwavering eyes. “You don’t have to say anything,” I continued. “Dear brother, just drop your head and we will pass in Jesus’ name,” I whispered.

He gave me a last look, dropped his head and shook it, and with his hand waved us by, “God be with you,” he whispered.

I was filled with the glory of God.

Joshua held my hand as we went forward to face whatever was before us. The area was totally devastated. Buildings were riddled by bullets and bombs, even the trees were blown up. Soldiers began to yell at us to come back. They were waving us back, but we walked even faster. Some tried to run out at us, but we rushed past. This was war and to be in the open was to die. We turned a corner and were in the real ‘No Man’s Land’ right in the middle of five fighting armies; the Israeli, the Lebanese, the Philangist, the Syrian and the PLO. Two crosses and two witnesses were in the hotspot and spotlight of the world.

“Pray, Joshua, pray! If you’ve ever prayed, pray now!”

I was smiling and waving my Bible to all the hundreds of troops that were looking at us. Where do we step, where are the land mines? Huge piles of dirt and steel were in front of us with many tank barricades ahead. We must truly walk in the Spirit. We chose one path and entered into the Syrian-PLO lines. The soldiers were waving at us and smiling. We had broken the Israeli blockade. They were happy. A woman reporter/photographer from Time Magazine rushed to take photographs. The commander in that area stepped up and asked, “What are you doing?”

“We are here carrying the cross. We have good news. God loves you! Jesus is alive!”

“We need all the good news we can get. Welcome to West Beirut!”

In a few minutes the other reporters began to mob us. Newsmen from ABC, CBS, NBC, Polish television, British television, and Swedish television, Newsweek, UPI and AP were snapping pictures. We were moving along a blown-up street and suddenly Yasser Arafat appeared out a building. He was approaching Joshua and me. It was awesome. All the world news agencies ran stories about a man and a boy with a cross and Yasser Arafat. His eyes were sparkling and he was smiling. He hugged Joshua as we looked at each other. It had been two years since we met and spent more than two hours together. We hugged and kissed, and then I told him how we had struggled to get into Beirut and how God had called us.

“I expected you would come,” he said, “You are welcomed.”

We turned away and whispered to each other for a few minutes. I shared the deep burden of my heart, again sharing the message of Jesus. We exchanged words that I don’t want to write about, and then I said to the press, “We have come in peace. We want no more killing of Israeli, Palestinian, Lebanese or Syrian people. We walk, we speak, and we live or die for peace, love and reconciliation. God loves all, Jesus Christ died for all. I want to pray.”

Joshua and his cross, Yasser Arafat in the center and me with my cross and with my arm around Arafat, praying and weeping; It was an historic moment to become a legend as the story and a photographs spread around the world in newspapers and on television. On every continent, even through communist countries, millions saw our crosses and the scene.

Tonight we stayed at the Mayflower Hotel. The city is devastated. God used the ‘Youth with a Mission’ follower of Jesus, an atheist Norwegian girl, two Monks, an Israel officer, a reporter and a Christian Philangist commander to get us into West Beirut. We witnessed to the world through the news media, we spoke and prayed with Yasser Arafat and crowds greeted us along the way into the city. It is reminds me of the book of Acts. But, what a struggle; one wrong move and we would not be here. Only God knows what is before us.

Guns are firing again. The building is shaking with exploding bombs, but Joshua has fallen asleep and I write by candlelight. We haven’t had anything to eat all day. I know Joshua is hungry. What can I say about this boy? Everyone has told us, “You’ll be killed.” There was gunfire and exploding shells today and yet he never complained. He only smiled and glowed with the glory of God.

To my knowledge, no one has ever done such things as this in the Middle East since St. Francis in the 12^th Century when he went to visit the Muslim armies of the Sultan and also went to see the Christian Crusade armies during that time of war.

We have only the clothes on our backs and God and His host of angels. Only God can do such a thing as this. It took God years to train me in preparation for this mission and oh, thank you, Lord that you did not pass me by. I am so sleepy. I love you, Lord.

It is unbelievable to be in West Beirut. Over half a million people are stuck in their homes. The Israelis have cut off all supplies of water, food, electricity, gas and medical supplies…nothing is allowed in to the area! Many people drink out of the street, the hospitals are jammed and temporary hospitals have been set up. There are so many children with their legs or arms blown off, blinded or with other injuries and medical supplies aren’t available. How can people do this to each other?

At the front line in West Beirut one soldier removed the badge from his shirt and gave it to me. It has a red hammer and sickle insignia. He said, “I’m a communist but I have never seen or felt anything like this is in all my life. You are the bravest and most courageous two men I’ve ever met.

We looked at each other and then I replied, “I only have a Jesus sticker to give you in return,” and then stuck it on his shirt, smiling, “God loves you.” We stayed and prayed for a while in the middle of the battlefield.

All the time we were in West Beirut a man sat by our car day and night, watching over it. I was shocked. He said, “It is the least I could do. You risked your life for us.”

At the border the Army inspects even the backpacks of Israeli troops as they return from Lebanon so they can’t bring in any contraband. But when Joshua and I crossed through they just waved us by. We had been featured on television and in the newspapers all over Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Israel so the guards all know the cross. “He’s for peace,” they would say.

After being in the United States and Poland, Joshua and I arrived back in Lebanon. This time we came by ship from Cyprus. The old rusty ship sails once in a while to Lebanon, but only a few media people go inenter the country. The war has grown in intensity, if that is possible, as the siege of Beirut continues. We didn’t have a visa, but for a $40 service charge we were given a two-day visa, which was good for as long as we could stay alive. As we started into Juniyah, the Israeli troops mobbed us. It was unbelievable. They were so happy that we were back and they all wanted photographs.

“You are very famous,” they shouted. “We saw you on TV and in the newspaper.” The troops would pose holding the cross. They truly loved us and the cross. All along the street toward Beirut we were given food, drinks and ice cream. The cross was covered with food. It was almost impossible to carry all of it. As we approached Beirut again, we could see shells and bombs falling.

A Philangist soldier came to me crying. He wanted to give his life to Jesus. He said, “I will walk with you until you go into West Beirut.”

We slept in his home. What a lovely family. They were so kind and beautiful. His wife washed and dried or clothes.

The Israelis were all asking about Arafat and the people in West Beirut, so were the Philangist, who had fought them for years, yet they all loved us. Nothing like this has happened in the history of the Middle East – someone being so accepted by all sides in the conflict. Oh, how the Jews and Christians love us, and how the Muslims and Druze love us also, the Syrians and the PLO. It is impossible to describe. Oh, if only they could learn to love each other as they love us.

Wow! God got us in again. Past the Israeli Navy, past immigration without a visa and now we are being mobbed by Israeli and Philangist troops. We’re being treated like heroes even though we have been with their most despised enemy, Yasser Arafat.

I feel a bond with the committed, even if it is war. I am close to those who are ready to die. They feel close to me also. We look at each other and understand each other. We are friends in a moment. By God’s grace, no matter which side they are on, we are living our lives with our life on the line. Each side tells me, “We welcome you, but the other side will kill you.”

Half of the hotel is blown up. No glass is left in the windows. The room next to us is demolished, but we sleep well. We do have a bed. Thank you, Lord.

We arrived back in the city. East and West Beirut both welcomed us. Troops from all the armies welcomed us. We’re now back at our old hotel, the Mayflower. We were told that the hotel had not been bombed. The holy cross was there. You are welcomed back. Put the cross inside the hotel.

Tonight we spent five hours with Dr. Arafat, the brother of Yasser Arafat. He held a flashlight for hours as we studied the word of God, mostly the book of Revelation. He carried a sleeping Joshua to our hotel room at the risk of his own life. He is a very kind man. He carries no gun and is in charge of all hospitals for the PLO. We met about ten times this summer, discussing the Bible and Jesus and praying together.

I shall not discuss the details of the war in this book. Everyone has read about it or has seen the news of it on television. All I’ll say is that it is horrible. Screams of the dying can be heard. People are trapped in bombed buildings. Diving planes and rockets can be seen. You can hear the shrieking of explosives. There are close calls of death that Joshua and I encountered. As I write this, the building we're in is shaking like jello. Rockets fill the air and my ears ring with gunfire.

I don’t understand why the missionaries fled West Beirut when the siege began. Half a million people stayed to live or die, but not the preachers. Why?

I was at the Baptist Church and had dinner with the Lebanese pastor. West Beirut is not all Muslim and the Muslims that are in the city, with few exceptions, do not bother the believers. It is not a Muslim-Christian conflict at all, but is very involved with politics.

I saw doctors and nurses from England and the United States volunteering to help. They have come to West Beirut to care for the sick, injured and dying, but I have not met what would be termed, ‘evangelical fundamentalist Christians’ coming here during this terrible conflict.

Today French paratroopers arrived at the port to begin evacuation of the Syrian and PLO troops. Joshua and I were there in the middle of the evacuation with our crosses. The air was filled with shells being fired to salute the departing fighters. We had eaten with most of them for days now. They were all so kind to us and we prayed with many of the troops.

We carried the cross to the Green Line at Museum Crossing today for the sixth time during this summer of war and siege.

We are now heading south of Beirut on the road to Jerusalem. We spent the night in a Christian village. Strange, we have been with their enemies for days, but we were warmly welcomed to the village, we were fed a big dinner and I preached to the people.

We did an Israeli television program today. We are spending tonight by the beach with the Israeli Army and Free Lebanese Army troops. It is unbelievable. Today at least 500 Israeli troops took pictures of us. I preached to several groups of troops and as I lay here writing in my Diary I see the printing on a box next to my head rest says, ‘AMMUNITION FOR CANNON WITH EXPLOSIVE REPELLENT.’

The Israeli troops are still very friendly to us, but they warn us not to stay with the locals. They claim there are terrorists among them and that they’ll kill us. But we stayed with a wonderful Lebanese family. They were all Shiite Muslims and were so kind to us. They gave Joshua and me their bed for the night. Oh, what love.

We slept tonight in the Church of St. Thomas in Tyre. Jesus preached along the cost of Tyre and Sidon, where one of the first churches was established during the first century. The Church of St. Thomas stands over the old ruins of that first century church. We sleep where early believers preached, sang and worshipped. People from the entire Christian area in Old Tyre have mobbed us and even tried to take pieces of the cross. What beautiful people and so kind, with faith that has endured the centuries of time. A small enclave of believers that have faced persecution for centuries.

Joshua and I slept at the German Hospital in Lebanon at Tyre. Our beds were two operating tables. We had to get up early in the morning because our beds were needed to perform surgery.

We carried the cross into Israel this afternoon. We had no problems at the border. “It’s the man with the cross. You are famous. Can we have your photo?”

Hallelujah!

Car after car stopped us in Israel. Army trucks, jeeps…it was difficult to walk. The people are so friendly.

Just before dark a man stopped and came to me with his wife. “Meet a man who loves God, who loves peace and who wants nothing.” We had a great visit, and then he asked, “Where do you sleep?”

“At the first place anyone asks me to sleep,” I answered.

“We would love to have you in our home,” he said, “but we are Jews. Does that matter?”

I laughed and replied, “Well, I was hoping to meet one of those around here.”

They laughed. We stayed the night with them and the lady cooked two meals for us that night. One was at 6:30pm and then another dinner was served at 11:00. They placed the cross at the door of their house and invited their friends at the moshav to come and talk with me. The lady, who was about 65 years old, told me, “I make jewelry and sometimes I get requests for crosses. I bought a book once with different designs of crosses in it, but I’ve never understood anything about why people want crosses. Can you tell me about it?”

What a question to ask the world cross-carrying pilgrim!

While carrying the cross through the hotly disputed West Bank the Arab people have been so great to me. I spent the night at Jacob’s Well, which is the well where Jesus asked the woman to give Him water to drink. A priest gave me a room and water from the well. It was my only food. Praise the Lord!

As I was walking up a mountain with the cross, an Israeli Army bus coming from Lebanon stopped. The troops were all trying to talk to me at once. It was total confusion! Finally they asked me to come onto the bus. I left the cross and went inside. The eighty or so men and women on the bus became quiet. Most of them still had their guns in their hands. I was hot and tired so I decided to get right to the point.

“I carry the cross to share the good news of Jesus on earth, to show that He loves you and that God lives today. The way we can know God is through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. The temple has been torn down. There is no longer a blood sacrifice made in Jerusalem for the sins of the people, but Jesus Christ is without sin and He is holy. He died on the cross. That was His sacrifice and it is sufficient to pay for our sins. When you accept His death on the cross you can have peace with God and know Him as your savior.”

The glory of God came on that bus! I finished my talk with a prayer and then the soldiers burst into applause, then they rushed off the bus, blocking traffic. They grabbed the cross and held it up in the air and took pictures. I was crying and many of the soldiers were crying.

“Thank you for coming to us and for going into West Beirut. Please stay on the road! It makes the world a better place.”

The bus finally drove off with the troops waving and smiling. I was weeping, oh Lord, how wonderful! How wonderful”

WHAT A DAY! I carried the cross through Old Jerusalem for the third time. The first walk was in 1977 and the second in 1980 and now it is 1982. This time I came on foot from Beirut, Lebanon. From the very door of death. Joy flooded my soul. I was home! I guess in some strange way most people who have ever been here feel that Jerusalem is home. It is THE CITY of the world. I looked out over the city with Joshua beside me. We stood on the Mount of Olives where Jesus had ascended into heaven and where He had wept and sweat drops of blood the night before his crucifixion, down the old trail and into the city walls, along the Via del a Rosa to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and to the Garden Tomb. The cross had returned the third time to Calvary where Christ had died for our sins. I was happy but sad. Still the world lies in darkness even though the light has come.

I must make mention in this book for the close friends and godly people that I know in Jerusalem.

Dr. Bob Lindsey, the pastor of the Narkiss Street Baptist Church. He is one of the most brilliant and Jesus-centered persons I know. He is one of the world’s top experts in Hebrew and is so full of love and kindness. The Narkiss Street Baptist Church, a fellowship of believes from every background including Jewish, Arab and Christian, is truly an international body of Christ living in a New Testament spirit. I am officially their missionary to the world.

Dr. Wes Brown, scholar and private teacher to me and a great leader in pursuit of all truth about Jesus.

Colonel Dobbie and his wife, Flo, who ministered at the Garden Tomb during my first two visits and who now work with the Christian Embassy in Jerusalem. They have always received me with love and honor and they are a mighty influence for our Lord there.

John Anthony has walked with me for a day each time I began a walk with the cross and when I ended my walk in Jerusalem. He is without shame and fear and he is a dear lover of the cross.

Reverend Vonderhoven, now at the Christian Embassy, who has such a Christ-like spirit and has stood with me on each visit.

I could go on and on…Dr. Scott, Leon and others. What a family I have in Jerusalem. The church of believers in Jerusalem has always welcomed, helped and loved us. We say, “Thank you.” You will live in my heart always.

**********

17. JERUSALEM TO CAIRO

Two of the world’s most fascinating cities and the awesome Sinai Desert. My mission during February and March 1980 was to carry the cross across the historic desert, the land of old caravan trade routes. Moses and the children of Israel, Jesus as a child, and Mary and Joseph had crossed the Sinai twice. On one end stands Egypt, graced with majestic pyramids and desert tribes; on the other side is Jerusalem, the heart of religion. Now another pilgrim in modern times would cross the desert. This time the pilgrim had a cross and a backpack.

February 26^th was an historic date. Israel and Egypt exchanged Ambassadors and opened the border between their countries. I was there with the cross to be the first to cross the border. This is my second trip to Israel and Palestine. In 1977 I had walked in a big circle around Israel and Palestine and into Jerusalem. As before, many Christians were concerned about my safety, about the possibility of my causing riots with the Jews or the Muslims. Historically both groups have been offended by the cross.

Most people felt this would be a tough, dangerous journey through the Sinai, yet God was to make the desert bloom.

Oh, the awesome feeling of Jerusalem. Unique in all the world. I stood at the Garden Tomb just outside the old wall. I could see the place where many believed Calvary to be. Three years earlier I had arrived here and ended my first walk through the Bible area at this site. I had faced jungles, war and near death since that time, but now I was to begin a journey here. My deep desire had been to walk with the cross and preach in all the areas where Jesus had been taken across the burning sands. Now the privilege would be mine. He had left His family like a refugee; Herod wanted to kill Him. Years later He returned and died on the cross for our sins. Now He was calling me to carry the cross through the desert with the message of true peace, love and salvation. Whatever it cost me in struggle and pain would be a small price to pay for the joy I would bring to others.

A small crowd of believers, modern disciples of the living Jesus, prayed for me and offered encouragement. I strapped my backpack onto the cross. Inside was my sleeping bag, toilet articles, a small camera, a few Bibles in Hebrew and Arabic, a few rolls of Jesus stickers, two pairs of short pants, some shirts, a Swiss Army knife and my personal Bible. I wiped tears from my eyes and said my goodbyes. Then I lifted the cross and walked into the Old City. Crowds of people, Arabs and Jews, gathered to ask questions and to hear the good news of Jesus. I went to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where many believe Christ was crucified, buried and rose again. I prayed there, went on through the Old City, then out through the Jaffa Gate into the New Jewish Jerusalem toward the desert.

My major problems in crossing the Sinai were that I could sleep in only one place at a time. All day people would ask me to stay with them. In Israel I slept in a church, in a Jewish kibbutz, in moshavs, in private homes and in Arab homes. Secondly, it was difficult to carry all the food and drinks people gave me. Cars would stop and people would give me refreshments. Army jeeps and armored cars, even tanks, packed with Israeli soldiers would give me so much food and drink that I’d have to give the canned food and drinks away. But as I left an area the people would come again with bags of oranges, meat and drinks. Thirdly, it was tough just to keep walking when everyone wanted to talk with me. It was unreal. Often there would be ten to twenty cars and trucks parked in the middle of nowhere with people crowded around. What glorious problems!

The Israelis were overwhelming in their love as were the Arabs. It seemed like a competition as to who could be the nicest to me. In Gaza, the few Christians were afraid I’d cause problems. They wanted to be friendly, but fear won out and instead of visiting me on the streets they would find me a hotel room and came to visit me there. It was so strange that on this trip, as on the trip before, the Christians were often the most fearful. However, there were some from Jerusalem who drove out and brought me food. John Anthony, as he had done in 1977, walked with me the first day. I must commend his courage and faithfulness.

I made it to the border of Israel and Egypt late one day. I was tired but happy. Israeli troops greeted me with applause. They asked Captain David if I could sleep at the border and be the first to open it the next morning. Captain David smiled, patted his gun and said, “Anyone who has walked from Jerusalem can be first in line. Why don’t you get a bed somewhere?”

“I have my sleeping bag, it will be okay,” I answered.

He looked at the other soldiers and then said, “Just a moment.” He returned in a few minutes. “I have a bed for you, if you’d like.”

“Well, if you insist.”

Tonight you will sleep in Prime Minister Begin’s house.”

“What?!”

“Well, he isn’t home and some troops are guarding it. The commander said it would be fine. Take your cross with you.”

Nearby was Moshav Sinai, an Israeli settlement in an area soon to be returned to Egypt. Prime Minister Begin owned a home there, but now it was only occupied by the troops who were guarding it.

I was told to go to the house across the street and tell the Commander I had arrived. The area was covered with one-story, white wooden houses, all in a cluster. I leaned the cross against a post and walked over to the Command House as the sun set. There was an open window and an open door. I stopped about fifteen feet away and called out, “Anyone here? Hello! Hello!”

I stood waiting, looking toward the window. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement at the door. As I focused on the door I saw a huge German shepherd dog leaping toward my throat with its mouth wide open and its teeth ready for my flesh. I raised my left arm in reflex and felt great pain as the dog’s teeth plunged into my arm.

“Jesus! Jesus!” I cried out. The dog had a death grip on me. As I squatted down and grabbed at its throat, he released me and for a long moment we faced each other eye-to-eye then he squatted to leap at me again. I was in a position to receive the new attack. With my hands open I kept whispering, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” I was in shock. Here I was in the Sinai Desert ready to sleep in the Prime Minister’s house and yet I was in a life and death struggle from an unexpected source. A most fearsome killer, an Army guard dog.

My arm was pouring blood. What a sight it must have been. A preacher with a cross and a dog in a bloody battle in the sands of the Sinai Desert! I heard a shout. The dog froze. “You speak English?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the dog.

“Yes,” came the reply. “The dog won’t move toward you. Are you the man with the cross?”

“Sir,” I asked, “please call the dog into the house.”

The man spoke again and the dog turned and raced inside. “It’s okay to sleep there,” he pointed toward the house. “I’ll come over in a little while and talk to you. See you soon.” Then he turned away.

The Commander never knew I was hurt as I put my arm behind my back when the dog left. I walked to the cross, got a piece of rag and tied it around the wound to cut the flow of blood and then I went to the house where I was to sleep. Some soldiers asked if I’d gotten a paper from the Commander saying it was okay for me to stay there. “No, he just said it’s okay.”

“We know, but we need written permission.”

“Then, please, someone come with me.”

When we approached the house the same dog charged out and headed directly toward me. “Jesus,” I cried, preparing for a second attack.

The soldier shouted a command and the dog froze. We got the papers and I carried the cross back to the house. All the soldiers greeted me with joy.

“Put your cross at the door. We will bring it in later. We’ll show you to your room.”

As I picked up my backpack and started to the door, I saw another large dog charging toward me. I couldn’t believe it! “Jesus,” I shouted as I threw the backpack in front of me.

The soldier shouted a word and the dog froze only two feet from me!

“Oh, Lord, help me make it through the dogs,” I whispered. Inside the house there were other guard dogs and all of them were eyeing me. It seemed every Army dog wanted to attack me.

I had a small cot. Glancing around I saw boxes of ammunition stored in the room and guns lay about. Two other cots were in the room where the soldiers slept. I went into the bathroom and tried to repair my arm. I could open two cuts and see the bone. My arm was throbbing. All the troops were so nice and lovely to me that I didn’t want to embarrass them by telling them I had been bitten by one of their dogs. I pulled the skin together and tied a cloth around it. To this day I carry the scars of that attack on my left arm.

We ate Army rations and talked about my journey and about Jesus late into the night. I lay on my bed thinking about today and wondering about tomorrow. I had taped a special television program for Swedish TV and had been attacked by a dog today. Tomorrow I go to Egypt. Lord, I’m in your hands.

The Israeli solders at the border all greeted me with warnings.

“Those Egyptians will kill you with that cross!” one man told me. “I’ve fought them in five wars in this desert. We like you and your cross. You are welcome in Israel but in Egypt, God have mercy on you.”

A black limousine was waiting as I walked out of the immigration post. The driver game me a note, “General Mohammed Hassan Sadek, Military Governor of the Sinai wants to see you.” I convinced them I would walk with the cross rather than take their air conditioned limousine.

Hours later I arrived at the Presidential Palace in El Arish. I walked up a red carpet after I had parked my cross against the palace wall. I was led upstairs to a second floor office. As I stepped in I saw a well-dressed man looking out the window. He turned slowly toward me and we looked at each other. I was wet with sweat and dirty, my shirt and short pants were brown from the blowing sand and I held my hat in my hands. My hair was wet and uncombed as I stood in the office of the president at the palace.

We were alone. Everyone else had left. He greeted me with a hug and kiss as is the common Arabic greeting. “Why did you refuse a ride in the air conditioned car; why did you walk here?”

“Because Jesus has called me to walk, carrying the cross around the world. Sir, I’m a pilgrim on a mission from God. God loves you. I come in peace on this historic day.”

“Why the cross?”

“Because I believe that through the blood of Jesus we can be clean. He is the only perfect man to die for our sins. The cross is God’s message of redemption and salvation.”

On and on I explained the life of Jesus. Tears filled my eyes as we knelt to pray. Many wars had bloodied the desert sands, now I prayed for forgiveness, not vengeance and for peace to prevail. I led him in a prayer to let Jesus live in his heart and to be his Lord and Savior.

When we finished praying, we rose. He went to his desk and turned to me, “This is the greatest honor I can give you, the Sinai Peace Medal. Anything you need, just show the Army or the people this medal and they will take care of you; food, drink, a place to sleep or anything else you may need. Welcome to Egypt. Egypt is your land.”

I stood looking at the big gold medallion. Tears flooded my eyes. Then the Governor spoke again, “Could I have a piece of your cross?”

Muslims do not believe that Jesus is the Son of God or that He died on the cross. They believe that He was taken up to Heaven and an imposter died on the cross afterwards. We looked at each other and I nodded, “I’ve only given Pope John Paul II in Rome a piece of the cross, but if you will take it openly in front of your officers, I’ll give you a piece of it.”

We walked downstairs and went to the cross. Carefully I took my pocket knife and cut two small pieces so he would have the shape of a cross. He placed the pieces in his billfold in the form of a cross and said, “I’ll carry it all the rest of my life. Would you eat my dinner? It has been prepared for me but I must go to Cairo now, so please have my dinner.”

“Well,” I said, “if you insist”

After we said our goodbyes I was led to a huge hall. There were two long rows of empty tables. Then a head table piled with food as only Arabs can prepare. Men in white dress stood ready to serve me. I was led to the head table, sat down and looked at the food. Here I was, surrounded by food prepared for the president, in a T-shirt and short pants in this palace! Tears washed my cheeks as I praised God and smiled. My family and friends in the States must be praying, “Lord, please don’t let Arthur starve or thirst to death in the Sinai Desert.” Last night I slept in the Prime Minister’s house in Israel, today I receive the Sinai Peace Medal and am eating dinner in the Presidential Palace in Egypt! Hallelujah! I am welcomed and loved by the Israelis and Egyptians, by the Jews and Muslims. The words in Psalm 23 filled my mind. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, thou anointest my head with oil. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Today, I crossed the Suez Canal. The people on the boat held the cross over their heads as we went across the canal. Everyone was excited. I entered El Quantara like a hero and then slept in a $2 room…can you believe it? Most men were smoking happy bubbly from a big pipe with a long hose. A bit of opium lay on the hot coals.

As I sat drinking coffee at 6:30 in the morning with Egyptian troops stationed at a roadblock, I saw a car drive up. In it was my dearest friend from London, Graham Lacey. I tapped on the window and he awoke. He and other dear friends, Cecil McBride, from Ireland and David Coe from Washington, D.C. were also in the car. They had flown by private jet from London to bring me water in the Sinai Desert. Oh, what friends! We visited for two hours, and then they had to leave. But David stayed in Cairo to help arrange my entrance there.

It is unbelievable. The people are so nice to me. But I was arrested once by Army soldiers and three times by the police. All for my own protection I was told. They claimed that, “People will kill you with that cross. You can’t walk on!”

I finally explained everything and they let me go on, but, “At your own risk! We don’t oppose what you are doing, but we can’t let you go on for your own safety.”

After they saw the response of the people, I was allowed to proceed to Cairo without difficulty.

Bilbeis, Egypt – From my Diary: I made it here, wherever this is. I know people in the United States are praying for me, but his is ridiculous. It rained three times today in the desert. It’s wet and the wind is cold. I could hardly stand up and the wheel on the cross is hard to move in the sand. But David came to me today in a taxi and told me he had gotten me a room in Bilbeis. After days in houses, I was anticipating a hot bath and good food in a hotel, but it turned out to be a total dump! Everyone was smoking happy bubbly dope in the hotel lobby. The room cost one U. S. dollar, but David paid an extra quarter so no one else would sleep in the same room. Ha! One day I hope to return the favor to him. David left for Cairo in the same taxi as I entered the hotel!

Today I met with Pope Shenouda III, head of the six million member Coptic Church. We had a lovely visit in his office in Cairo. Pope Shenouda presented me with his personal ivory cross that he used to bless people. We discussed the second coming of Jesus Christ and I knelt beside him reading Scriptures. It was a wonderful visit. He was shocked to learn that I had already walked from Jerusalem to Cairo. The Pope had wanted to warn me that it would be impossible to do that, but I’d already done it. He said, "You are blessed. You are like a saint.”

Later that day I was received in the capital by the Minister of State for Foreign Affairs, Mr. Boutrus Boutrus Ghali. We spent a half-hour together and I explained that my effort was for peace and good will in the name of Jesus.

Today I carried the cross to the pyramids and along the Nile River. The pyramids stand in awesome beauty in this red and burning sand. The Sphinx is a sight of wonder! History was all around me, yet there is a living faith to share with the people who gathered around. One man and a boy gave me their dinner. Oh, such love.

We began in Jarash and walked along the southern edge of the Jordan Valley, and then to Amman, the capital. Jesus walked along the east side of the Jordan River on most of His trip. Moses got to the east side of the Jordan River before he died, but he could see across to the Promised Land. Two and one-half of the twelve tribes of Israel were on this side of the Jordan River

It was a long, hot walk. I carried the cross, Joshua carried the water and Joel the backpacks. We were walking during much of Ramadan, the time of fasting in the world for those who follow the religion of Islam. Again, the only fearful people were the few Christians in the country. Following are a few excerpts from the diary I kept while we were in Jordan.

Up and down these hot, dry mountains. Car after car stopped. It’s difficult to make any progress walking because so many people want to talk with us. We passed a big wedding party where all the men were dancing in a large circle. They welcomed me to dance. I joined them as people clapped. We had our arms around each other but I couldn’t keep in step. But I tried. The people asked me to explain what we were doing and I shared about Jesus Christ with them. Glory!

Today we ate with a Jordanian army officer. As we left he gave me his head wrap, which was the most personal gift he could give. We both wept.

Today poor people brought us cold drinks and gave us food.

Shuna – A village near the Jordan River. Joshua, Joel and I were hungry when we arrived in Shuna. We hadn’t had food for breakfast or dinner, except a watermelon a man had given us. A man gave us cool water and a can of tuna fish. It was great!

This is a desert area with very few people. We were very hot – it must have been 125 degrees. The residents are Palestinian refuges from what is now Israel. They asked us to sit down and take off our shoes. The Muslim men knelt down and washed our feet then dressed us in white robes. Then we were taken to a patio covered with grapevines and treated like kings!

A man arrived who could speak English. I was asked what I’d like to do and I said, “I’d like to speak to the people about Jesus.” The men gathered around and for hours we sat sharing the good news of Jesus.

Let me share a few words about how wonderful most Arabs treat people. When you meet a true Arab family they treat you as royalty. When you are invited to their home to eat or sleep the family treats you like a king with all honor and reverence. When you leave, you are a poet, you are a trumpet – you will tell others that you meet what a wonderful village or family you visited. You don’t tell about how good or how bad the food was or how nice or how poor the house. You speak only about how fine the man or how good the village. You don’t enter an Arab village, stand in the street and begin to preach. Although I do just that in many other places, it is not done in an Arab village. When you enter an Arab village, the residents usually just look at you, then they offer a cup of coffee or tea and if you seem to be friendly, you will be offered an invitation to a home to eat or sleep. It is considered a great humiliation to be offered something and then to reject it. After you arrive at the home, you will be asked what you want to do or what you’d like. I always tell them I’d like to speak to the people of the town or village about Jesus. The people are gathered together and I address the gathering. I eat, drink and sleep in their homes, not as a stranger, but as a friend and as a follower of Jesus. I have been showered with love by the Arabs.

The Jordan Valley is from 800 to 1,200 feet below sea level and in July it is 120 to 130 degrees there. Today we ran out of water. Joshua and I almost fainted. We finally flagged down a passing car and Joel walked over to it and the people in the car began to scream. They had no food or water, but they had ice. Can you believe it? In the middle of summer in the Jordan Valley during Ramadan! We thought we were in heaven. Hallelujah!

Hot isn’t the word for it…it is fire. I know what it is to be baptized with fire...hot sun, hot water, hot sand, hot wind, hot road. Hot, hot, hot!

We stopped at a Christian book store today in Amman. Joshua and Joel stayed with the cross as I went inside.”Oh, please take the cross away from the front of the store. The Muslims will riot,” the Christian owner said.

“No, we can’t give you water. This is Ramadan and the Muslims will stone you and us.” “No, we can’t sell you a Bible to give to others. Whoever wants a must ask for it personally.”

When I told the boys what had happened, they asked, “But, aren’t they Christians?”

“Yes,” I said, “but, that is the problem. The only ones to turn us away on this entire trip have been Christians, not the Muslims.”

As we continued to walk down the street toward the end of the block a man waved us inside his store. “I see the cross and your two boys. Here, have some ice cream and cold water. We are Muslims, but we care.”

Cyprus – One day I arrived at a roadside store where a group of old people were standing and sitting around. I bought a cold drink and began to speak to the people about the love of God. One man could speak English. An old lady interrupted me, “Say a six-figure number.” I didn’t know what to say and I had no idea what was happening. Finally they handed me a piece of paper with a lot of numbers written on it. “Pick one,” they demanded.

I wanted to finish my sermon so I pointed to one. The lady ran over to a board and in a moment there was a scream and cheers. The woman rushed back with a handful of money. “Pick another, pick another!”

There was a big board and someone had a newspaper with lottery numbers. “You know God; ask Him to tell you which numbers. We’ll split the winnings with you!”

I wasn’t able to finish my sermon. This group could only see money from my friendship with God.

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19. JERUSALEM AND ISRAEL

Glory to God! At last we have arrived in Israel. After years of carrying the cross around the world, I finally stood in Bethlehem. There are at least 15 other people with us. We knelt and prayed and then I lifted the cross to my shoulder. Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus!

We had just visited the Church of the Nativity and we were standing outside its doors. Right here, in this area, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords was born from the womb of the Virgin Mary, the hope of the world, the Word had become flesh! From here went forth a light that all the darkness of all times has never been able to extinguish. The babe born in Bethlehem was destined to die on the cross. Bethlehem was here, and here was the cross!

We all prayed together. My sons, Joel and Joshua, walked by my side through the streets of Bethlehem and on through the wilderness toward Jericho. John Anthony, from Jerusalem, was also walking beside us. He could speak Arabic and some Hebrew. John was to help interpret for the first day.

As we left the city, a group of school children saw us and ran over. We began to share the message of Christ. Through the hills toward Bethany we had no problems. Jeeps full of soldiers stopped, getting out and taking Jesus stickers as we told them about Christ. No problems at all what a glorious first day of carrying the cross in the land of Christ. It was just a glorious privilege to carry the cross through the land of the Bible and land of Christ.

We began the walk in Bethlehem and carried the cross to Bethany, where Jesus had been so many times. Where Mary, Martha and Lazarus lived and where He often spent the night. Then we walked the Jericho Road, the old Roman road that leads to Jericho, which some claim to be the oldest city in the world. It is the wilderness area of Judea where David grew up, where John the Baptist preached, and where Jesus walked many times coming to and from Jerusalem. It was also in this area that Jesus fasted for 40 days, here in the Jordan Valley that contains the Dead Sea, which is 1200 feet below sea level. The river Jordan flows here into the Dead Sea from the Sea of Galilee.

It was a wonderful experience to study the Bible here. My family stayed in Jerusalem and from time to time, they would come out and walk with me. But most of the time they stayed in Jerusalem during my first trip in 1977.

At least once a week, Dr. Wes Brown and Dr. Bob Lindsey would walk with me, or I would go to them. They would teach me the Bible pertaining to the area where I would be walking. I not only witnessed for Christ, carried the cross, and preached to others (which was the prime purpose of my being here), but I also studied. I really learned the Bible. I knew what had happened everywhere I walked by studying the Bible. It was such an experience!

I carried the cross on to Beth Shean and then to the Sea of Galilee, where Christ performed so many miracles, and then up to Capernaum, the area where Jesus spent most of His ministry time, around Capernaum and the surrounding areas where He preached the Sermon on the Mount and multiplied the loaves and the fishes. Then I went up into the northern area, upper Galilee, into the beautiful farmland, all the way up to what is now Kiryat Shmona. From there I went into the Golan Heights, right at the foot of Mount Hermon, the wonderful, beautiful snow capped mountain. I came back through the area of the Golan, almost to Kuneitra, down again to the Sea of Galilee, from there to Nazareth, where Christ grew up as the carpenter's son. From there I went on to Haifa to the elegant, beautiful Mount Carmel, where Elijah called down fire from heaven, along the sea with fabulous beaches and so many historical places along that seacoast to what is now Tel Aviv. From there I went to Jerusalem.

I have walked with the cross from Jerusalem to Cairo, which stretches out where Jesus went as a child, from Beirut to Jerusalem, and up through the heartland of what is presently known as West Bank area.

On another trip in the Israeli occupied territory, I had covered the Gaza Strip and east bank of the River Jordan, which is now Jordan. However, it is also the land of the Bible, for there, so much of what happened in the life of Christ and the prophets took place on the east side of the River Jordan.

In Lebanon, along the coast of Tyre and Sidon, the Bible states that Jesus preached along the coast, so I have carried the cross basically in every area where Jesus preached and ministered, not only carrying the cross, but preaching to the people and sharing Jesus with them openly and publicly.

While many people have visited the places where Christ lived and ministered. I don't know of anyone else (there may have been) who has gone to those same places and preached publicly. Especially anyone who has carried a cross in modern times and publicly evangelized in all the areas of the New Testament and most of the Bible.

It was cold, windy and rainy while carrying the cross today, but it was a very beautiful stretch of road that leads up to Mount Hermon in the Golan Heights of Syria, which is now Israeli occupied territory. As I walked along the road some army jeeps stopped. A man got out of one. He seemed to be the Commander, and he began to talk to me about my journey, and asking me why and what I was doing. One of the other officers said, "Do you realize who you are speaking to?"

"No," I answered.

"He is the famed General Rafael Eitan, the Commander of the northern Army of Israel."

(A few years later, General Eitan became commander-in-chief of the entire Israeli Army, and was the commander during the invasion of Lebanon.)

The Commander was smiling and happy. He asked if he could carry the cross for a while. He put the cross on his shoulder and took a few steps. His eyes were sparkling, and he had a very pleasant and pleased expression. He asked, "Would you like to join the Israeli Army? Anyone that can walk like you around the world, we'd be happy to have."

I laughed and said, "I'm already in the Lord's Army." I shared with him about Jesus Christ, and what Christ means to me and how one could have peace with God through this person, who, though He lived and died here years ago, is still alive and we can know Him.

Commander Eitan asked if I would say a prayer. I put my arm around him, bowed my head and we prayed together. All the soldiers also bowed their heads, and when I finished praying, the Commander looked deep into my eyes and said, "You're welcome to the Golan Heights and to all of the northern Israeli Army area. You can stay in any of our camps. You can speak, talk to our troops, anything you want. We love you. You are welcome here."

Today as I am walking along the road, it is wet and cold. Several cars stopped and a group of news reporters got out. They were from the Israeli television station. Many Israeli newspaper and magazine people were there. They took pictures and did interviews with me. They said, "Tomorrow you will be very famous in Israel. We welcome you to Israel, and are happy you are here. You've come as a messenger of God and as a man of peace. You are welcome in our land."

Late this afternoon I was lost along the road. It got dark and I didn't know where I was going, so I just kept trying to walk and feel my way through the darkness. I was in the Golan Heights, and it had all been blown up. Tanks and troops were all over the area. Finally, I came to an Israeli Army roadblock and they said the Syrians were just across the way and that I couldn't pass.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't know where I was."

The soldiers told me to try to find a place and stay there. It is very dangerous in this area. I saw a bus stop and it had only one bench with a small, narrow board lying across it. So I lay down on the bench in my sleeping bag. It was cold and windy. Every 15 minutes or so an army jeep or armored car would come by, and once during the night, several tanks passed me. The soldiers would all stop. They brought me coffee and food. I shared Jesus with the Israeli soldiers all night. I didn't sleep at all. Just moments of prayer. And on that very bench in the cold and uncomfortable position in the Golan Heights, God used me as a mighty witness to hundreds of troops, because they all wanted to see the man with the cross. The soldiers would say, "You are very famous. Tonight you were on Israeli television."

They had seen me on TV or heard of me on the radio. God was pouring out his spirit on an old bus stop as I lay on the cold, narrow board. Glory to God!

From My Diary-February 10, 1977-If I had only one day to live in my lifetime, I would have chosen today! Some may be rich, but none as rich as I. My walk started at 6:30am in the Golan Heights. After being on the road 13 hours, I witnessed to thousands of troops. Car after car stopped alongside me. Army jeeps, trucks, tanks, armored cars, tractors, United Nations people... it was just incredible. I'm in all the Israeli newspapers, on their television and radio stations in order that the nation of Israel can see the cross as it is being raised up at this time.

The news stated that I was showing the love of God and praying for peace in the world. All the troops were trying to get my autograph. "You're famous in Israel," they would say. Hundreds of people would stand by the cross getting their pictures taken, or would want to hold the cross. The commander of this area came and carried the cross a few steps and asked why I was walking with the cross. I told him. I prayed with several Israeli soldiers today to receive Jesus Christ. Several times they had me stand on a tank or on the hood of a jeep, or on an armored car, and speak to several hundred soldiers at a time.

At one point I came over a hill and heard clapping and cheers. I looked, and there was an army base and the troops were lining the road, cheering and clapping. They led me into the camp and lifted the cross as high as they could and had me speak to them for 45 minutes about nothing but Jesus. They gave me coffee and food. As I was leaving, one man said, "You are accomplishing your purpose. You are getting us to believe."

Another said, "I only pray that there can be more in this world like you."

At another camp, a lady soldier said, "After interpreting for about 50 men you give us hope."

As I was coming along the road, many people would stop and say, "Maybe you have brought peace to Israel. We pray for peace."

One lady stopped her car and said her husband was in the Army, and he had called home and told her to bring their two children to meet me and hear about the Lord. When she got out of the car with her two children, she asked, "How do you hear the voice of God?" And I explained and we prayed together and they cried.

A tour bus stopped and the guide said, "You are history happening now! This is the best stop on the tour."

People kept giving me so much food I had it tied all over the cross. It was weighing me down. I was flooded with drinks.

All this area is a battlefield. It has been fought over again and again in the last 20 years. Everywhere buildings are blown up. The devastated city of Kuneitra was destroyed in 1973 during the war, and now is occupied by the United Nations. Just before dark a huge tank rolled up and stopped. The troops got out and greeted me. The commander said, "Can we give you a ride? We heard you were in the area and we'd like to help you down the road. You can put the cross on our tank."

I thanked them, but told them God had called me to walk.

At one place all the young soldiers posed with the cross and said, "Some day, when we have a family and children, we will show these pictures and tell them about the cross."

It was incredible. Can you believe a man with a cross is so accepted in Jewish Israel? Unbelievable! TODAY God has been glorified! I have lived, I am ready to live, I am ready to die, and this is glory! Today is a fabulous day. Unspeakable. Crowds of people stopping on the road, car after car. Glory to God! All I can say is that I can't describe it. The people are so hungry to hear about the cross and about the Messiah Jesus!

Today a car stopped and a soldier got out and other people stopped their cars also. I talked to them for awhile, and the soldier kept waiting. Finally, the other people left, and the soldier said, "I'm a messianic believer. I believe Jesus is my savior and in my kibbutz there are about ten of us who believe and pray together. Would you come and visit us tonight, but without your cross? We will come and get you. We want to pray with you."

It is literally amazing that all through my journeys in Israel, day after day, Israelis would stop and would tell me they knew Jesus as their Savior and believed in Him, and they would invite me to their house that night, or kibbutz, or moshav, and there would be friends who would gather and we would sing and pray and worship Jesus together, and I would teach them more. They would give me their addresses and say, "Don't give this to anyone, because we are not connected to any church or any group, but we are committed to Jesus Christ."

I have the names and address of hundreds of believers in Israel, and have written to many of these people over the years, and have seen them growing and expanding. What a day! Glorious!

Well, believe it or not, I finally made it to bed. Weary and exhausted, practically asleep on my feet. I know why Jesus had to leave the crowds and go off alone at night. He wanted a time to be alone with the Father. It has been great all day just glorious! Great crowds were everywhere. Even when I tried to eat breakfast! I finally was able to leave the house where I was staying. Sweet, beautiful people fed me breakfast. People on the road were so beautiful. Car after car stopped.

I arrived in Nazareth and was invited into a house located in an Arab village to spend the night. The people fed me good food and strong Turkish coffee and tea. The whole village gathered around to welcome me. It was unbelievable.

Today I preached in Nazareth. It was an incredible experience. I preached at the Church of the Annunciation. Outside, crowds of people gathered. The school was closed and mostly Arabs gathered in the heart of the city, blocking the street. The owner of a restaurant had me stand on his table to preach. The name of the restaurant was Abunassar's. The owner gave me dinner and we had great fellowship together. The Vice Mayor of Nazareth served as my interpreter. He is a Muslim. I stood on the table and preached to crowds of people who gathered to hear the good news of Jesus in the city where Christ had grown up. It was glorious!

The national Israeli-Arab television station sent a crew to film me and the cross for the Arabic language television.

I was carrying the cross along the road approaching Jerusalem. It was getting dark and I needed a place to leave the cross overnight, as I planned to hitchhike to Jerusalem to see my family. I asked if there was any place I could leave the cross. A small group of Israelis had gathered along the roadside to hear me sharing about Jesus, and this a woman spoke up and said, "Yes, you can bring it to my house."

I carried the cross over to her house with everybody in the village following along. We stopped at her front door. She became a little nervous, and I asked, "What's wrong"."

"Well," she said "I'm just trying to figure out how you're going to get the cross through that small doorway."

I said, "Why through the door?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to leave the cross in my house overnight?"

"Oh, no," I said. "Not necessarily in the house, but in the yard will he just fine."

Tears were running down my cheeks as I looked at this wonderful Jewish lady who had not accepted Jesus as her Savior, but was willing to care for the cross in her home.

Haifa, Israel - If there can be a better day than today, I want to live it. This day has been simply fantastic, and glorious. A chapter from the Bible.

As I came into Haifa crowds of people gathered around me. Most all of them were Jewish. The crowd was so large it blocked the street. The police came and directed the traffic around the block, leaving me to share about my experiences and about Jesus. So many of the people would say, "We love you in Israel, you are welcomed. We love you!"

It is now almost impossible to walk with the cross. It is like a slow crawl. How can I describe it? People are waving to me from cars, horns are honking, cars are stopping and families are getting out. People are standing by the cross for their pictures to be taken. "We love you. Everyone is talking about you." I keep pointing to the cross and Jesus.

Later in the afternoon I arrived in time for a special gathering that had been planned by the Catholic Church, the Greek Orthodox Church, the Episcopal Church and by the Mennonites. All morning I had been with the Jews and now this afternoon at this gathering with the Christians. They wanted to walk behind me as I carried the cross up Mount Carmel. We walked to the Sisters of Nazareth School from the Roman Catholic Church. When we arrived at the school, the crowd gathered below as I stood on the stairway to speak. The fire of the Holy Ghost fell in power and glory.

I spoke with great boldness and authority. The crowd broke out in applause. Everything was for the Lord. The victory of the Lord. God had brought young and old. I stood on a balcony about 20 feet high with the cross behind me and the crowd below on the edge of Mount Carmel with the Mediterranean Sea in front of me and Haifa below. An unbelievable scene. Several thousand years ago Elijah had prayed on top of the mountain just above me and fire had come down. Again, the fire had fallen on the sides of Mount Carmel! I led the people in prayer and then I finished. The priest said my face was glowing, and in it he could see the Lord Jesus. It is one of those awesome moments. I was so exhausted after preaching, having walked and talked all day. Someone brought me a chair and I sat down. Some sick Catholic sisters were brought to me and I was asked to pray for them. I prayed and each of them was healed. More ill people were brought to me. I was sitting in the chair and I would lay hands on them and they were healed. Joshua had come up to spend the night with me and he saw this. It was one of those rare times when I saw God healing people. For about three hours, He healed everyone that came. I was so exhausted I couldn't even sit up. I was leaning over the chair, and still everyone was healed. Finally, I was helped to a place where I lay down and I went to sleep.

February 26, 1977-I arrived with the cross in Jerusalem. I was filled with excitement. When I arrived at the top of the Mount of Olives with the cross a young Israeli soldier and his girlfriend were waiting for me. I had spoken to them yesterday and told them I would be here. They had brought three apples. We sat down overlooking the city of Jerusalem and ate the apples. They came to believe that Jesus had died for them, and accepted Him as their Lord. It was so beautiful.

About 200 people had gathered to walk into the city with us. Arabs and Jews, foreigners and citizens. We said a prayer and started off. I deeply enjoyed the walk down the old stone road and then through the Mount of Olives, then to the Lion's Gate. It seemed as if I was covered and surrounded by the glory of God. What an honor to bring the cross into Jerusalem. The cross that had been carried around the world. It has been traditional to walk from the Mount of Olives at Easter time, then along the Via del a Rosa, with people carrying crosses. But this cross had been around the world. I carried it along the Via del a Rosa to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where most believe Calvary was located and where Christ was crucified. The other side of the church is the tomb where Jesus was said to have been buried. When we arrived in the patio area outside the church, the guards came up with a priest looking on. One of the guards said, "You can't stay here. You have to leave."

"Can't we just have a prayer in the courtyard outside," I asked.

"No. No."

The Christian leaders with me asked at the Church, but we were refused admittance. We couldn't even stay on the outside to pray. I was stunned. I had walked around all the land of the Bible, places where Jesus had been. I had eaten and slept in Arab villages with Muslims and Christians. I had walked all through the area of Israel and General Rafael Eitan had carried my cross. The Israeli soldiers had mobbed me and asked me to preach, and I had preached to thousands of troops. The Israelis had surrounded me in the streets, blocking the sidewalk and the police had directed the traffic around us. And here I was, at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher where Christ had been crucified and resurrected. It was the only place I had been turned away from or treated unkindly in all the land of Israel. The place of Calvary. After walking 14,296 miles, there was no room for the cross at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher! There are no words to explain how I felt. I remember how Jesus had overturned the tables of the moneychangers in the temple.

Some of the other priests went across the way to a Lutheran Church. They moved some chairs out into the street and I preached, standing on the chairs just a few hundred feet from where Christ had died on the cross. I then carried the cross to the Garden Tomb where some believe Christ was buried and where Calvary is located.

A news reporter had been with me all day, and a television reporter followed me all day. The television reporter said, "I don't understand. You seem a very intelligent man, and yet how could you have walked around the world and seen so much hate, tragedy and suffering and still be smiling? You were smiling all day."

"Because the God I work for is still in control," I said. "Jesus is Lord."

It was wonderful to have arrived home in Jerusalem after walking around the world. The city I had dreamed of. Now I had actually preached here and tonight I would sleep here.

Some have difficulty with people referring to the land of the Bible as the Holy Land. Especially as Christians, we believe that it is God who is holy and not earth, or it's what God makes holy. If anything is holy it is people, but not the dirt.

Israel is flooded with Christian tourists who come to tour the Holy Land, riding tour buses, getting off, staying in a hotel, then unloading and looking at this 'holy site and that holy site and another holy site,' touching it, and somehow feeling that by being there they are made holy. But one day I was walking along the road and was visiting with a Miuslim farmer who was plowing the land where Jesus probably preached the Sermon on the Mount. The thought occurred to me, it's not walking on that land that makes one holy, the man walking that land didn't even accept that Jesus Christ died on the cross.

Many of the places that we consider 'holy places' are not really 'holy.'Like Capernaum. It is a city that was covered with dirt until this century when it was excavated and many of the ruins uncovered. Before that the land was being farmed. Holiness is in the heart, it is the right attitude toward God. God never called us to tour the world, but to go into all the world and preach the gospel to every person. It is good to go to the land of the Bible to see and to learn so we can better comprehend the Bible and understand the historical facts. To simply think that being baptized in the River Jordan is any more important than being baptized in the Mississippi River or the Amazon River is not so. It is not the same water that was there during Biblical times. It is similar to Christian fetishes, that by touching this rock or by going to this place or by doing that thing, that somehow what had happened there is rubbed off on you. It is to go into all the world and preach the gospel. The presence of God is as real in Australia or Korea as it is in Jerusalem or in Bethlehem. God is as close to you wherever you are on Earth as He is at this place.

I am reminded of the words of Jesus in the book of John 4:19-26. "The woman said unto him, Sir, I perceive that thou are a prophet. Our fathers worshiped on the mountain; and ye say, that Jerusalem is the place where men ought to worship." Jesus said unto her, "Woman, believe me, the hour cometh when he shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. Ye worship ye know not what. We know what we worship. For salvation is of the Jews. But the hour cometh and now is, when the true worshipers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth. For the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a Spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." The woman saith unto him, "I know that Messias cometh, which is called Christ. When He is come, He will tell us all things." Jesus saith unto her, "I that speak unto thee am He."

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20. AFRICA

Africa is a vast encompassing continent. The northern part is mostly Arabic, followed by the Sahara Desert, and then the tropical black Africa extending to South Africa. Once you get there it seems as if it is the only world there is. The people are warm, with their lifestyle focused on people rather than on things. Life for most is a daily struggle for water and food. Life is basic, but the land is alive with the dynamic spirit of living.

I spent a total of two years walking in Africa and I must confess that when I returned to the United States, got off the plane in New York and took a taxi into Manhattan, I was shocked. There were far more smiling faces in poor Africa than in modern New York. I remember going into a toy store in Atlanta, Georgia, immediately after my return. There were hundreds of children in the store, buying toys with their parents. There were kids whining and complaining and fussing and mad because they didn't get the toy they wanted, or they couldn't afford it. I remembered all the little children in Africa playing with coconuts and little round things and laughing and screaming. I wondered which is the rich world and what is the poor world?

My walk across Africa began late in 1972, all of 1973 and most of 1974. I walked with the cross through the Canary Islands, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ivory Coast, Ghana, Togo, Dahomey (now the Republic of Benin), Nigeria, Cameroon, Kenya, Tanzania and Rhodesia.

We had a British Land Rover where I kept my supplies and gospel materials. I used the hood of the truck as a platform to preach. I hired a driver in each language area who would also serve as my interpreter. My interpreters also served as evangelists.

From My Diary - It was a beautiful sunshiny day in the Canary Islands as the Oriole slowly moved from Pier 16 at Las Palmas Harbor. For the first time since the walk with Jesus began on Christmas Day 1969, I was leaving my family now on February 12, at 2:00pm, 1973, to begin the African walk, thousands of miles from the nearest person I love. The Holy Spirit fills me, glory! After all the 32 years I've lived, after all the thousands of people whom I love and love me, I am now humanly separated from everyone I know by thousands of miles. I am going to West Africa to Sierra Leone. No one knows me there. It is a total and completely new start.

My Land Rover's clutch burned out on the way to the dock and the U.S. dollar was devalued. I had $800.00, but lost $80.00 as the devaluation took away 10%. It's a real adventure, a new start for an old man! Ha!

I sure miss my family. I hardly know what to do without them. However I feel the tremendous presence of the Lord. I feel peace and faith so deep and rich that words cannot describe it. There is nothing on this earth to distract me. I have been in such sweet fellowship with the Father, it's like the Holy Spirit is resting upon me, healing and opening me up to His power. What will happen in West Africa, I don't know the details yet, but I know the Lord is my armor and sword. In You, oh Lord, is nothing but victory and glory. I claim millions to be bowed before Thy feet in months ahead.

The splendid beauty of dawn has just come and the city seems covered by the low overhanging mountains. It is misty and cloudy and the air is warm. The majestic trees with perfect form stand in welcoming beauty. I have arrived in Freetown, West Africa. Already I feel a strange sensation, like I've never felt before. I welcome it all to the glory of God. I slowly feel at home. It is much like a Louisiana swamp feeling, the warm, thick humid air. It's now 7:17am, and we have come into the port. God has prepared a welcome for me in his own way. Black faces are everywhere lined along the waterfront. Low yellow roofed buildings are streaked along the shore. I see the Land Rover now in ropes, soon to be lifted toward the sky and then lowered to the deck. I'm in Africa in person glory! In Jesus name, Arthur Blessitt has arrived.

Nearly started a riot today trying to give out Jesus stickers. Thousands upon thousands of people trying to get one little red sticker. I had to throw the roll of Jesus stickers into the air. The crowd was pressing in on me and I had to relieve the pressure.

In the cities there are thousands upon thousands of unemployed young men and older men with nothing to do. They sit for hours and hours or just walk around.

The water is supposed to be boiled or run through a purifier to kill the germs. Lizards are everywhere and so are bats and weird bugs, terrible looking insects. There are almost no supplies and sometimes hundreds of miles between doctors. People live on corn, cassava roots, rice, and a little fruit. The whole place is another way of life.

I took a walk though the city with the cross. Had a good service tonight, the church was full, with crowds standing outside. I preached in great power with a good number of people saved. The people here drive their children away. Tonight the children were standing outside. I went over and asked them to come in. One fellow said, "I don't have a seat." I said, "Come on in" and I put him at the very front. I brought in crowds of children which shocked the adults. Whenever there is a crowd the children either have to leave or go to the back. It's the same with eating. The children eat after the adults, not with them. But these children love me so much tonight, as they always seem to do. As I was ready to leave the church with the cross, children were all around me, hundreds of them, so I let them carry the cross. It never touched the ground, for about 30 children were holding it up and hundreds were following me down the street singing "God is not dead."

One little boy asked, "Mister does God like children?"

I began to weep and said, "Oh yes, He does." They all gathered around me as I told them how Jesus loved the children and held them in His lap and blessed them. Before returning I went off alone to pray and the children gathered around me. One little boy said, "Will you remember my name Sir, please, I want someone to know me."

I put my arm around him and cried. All through the day until 10:00 o'clock at night the children stayed outside the door, waiting to see me.

Men and women came to the house where I was staying to be saved. As I was leaving the house the next afternoon, I spotted three women with babies waiting to see me. I discovered they had been waiting two hours. They wanted me to tell them about Jesus! I now understand how people must have followed Jesus. How, when the word went out that He was staying somewhere, people came to Him, crowds of people. This was exactly what happened here. People followed me everywhere, especially the children. They came to Jesus for miracles, but if they could not see Him they took off the roof. I now see how it could happen. People even came up to me and said, "Mister, may I go with you or will you come to my village and preach?" I could stay here a year going from village to village. The gospel story of the life of Jesus is before my eyes. I don't know if anyone has experienced the kind of life that I'm living except Jesus, but it is an awesome feeling and it fills me with wonder and humility.

I'm in the bush, the African walk is on. The hunger of the people is insatiable. I'm resting under two large trees by an abandoned house. Jaban has cooled and we have eaten. I slept and rested during the heat of the afternoon, from 12:00 to 4:00pm. It gets about 100 degrees in the shade and from 120 to 130 degrees in the sun along the road. It is hot, I say HOT. I traded my wide brim hat for a wild drooping hat.

Boy, it is hot. The soles of my shoes are melting. I don't think they will make it to Monrovia.

We've had problems finding water. I bought Cokes in some villages, but they are always hot. There is no electricity here. My feet are very bad, a sea of blisters all over the top and bottom of my right foot. They have now turned bloody. I can hardly stand it with my shoes off, much less on. God will give me relief very soon. I tell you it takes some guts to go into this country. The heat is intense, water is scarce and everything you drink is hot. Sleeping is hot, feet hurt, poor living conditions and everything is a terrific struggle, but I glory in the Lord. Anything less than the love of God and I would cast it aside and go back to the air conditioning, but my lot in life has been to leave the luxuries of life and struggle on in the power of Christ. To know the life of the poor, the hurts of the wealthy, to cross the many rivers and be obedient to the Master, even here in this jungle, to preach the gospel.

I was mobbed by people hugging and kissing me, many trying to touch my hands. I could not move. Finally, a group of young men had to form a circle around me and then push me through the crowds. Oh what a joy to be sharing Jesus. Hundreds were following me, so it turned into a march for Jesus, with songs, cheers, and people passing out Jesus stickers. Thousands of people lined the streets as I came in, waving, singing, and clapping.

Today it is hot, hot, hot. Just outside town ten children met me, then about 100 construction men came around, hundreds of people came over a bridge out of the city to see me. The crowd grew larger and larger, blocking the highway. People were trying to touch me. They led me to the City Hall where about 2,000 people were waiting. I drank a Coke and the leaders of the city gathered. I preached with a man interpreting. Hundreds were saved it was glorious.

I carried the cross through the town to a secondary school where they rang the bell. Five hundred students mobbed me, including hundreds more from the Rally. I took off my shoes in the afternoon and wrung blood from my socks. I doctored my feet, took a bath and fell into bed for a nap. I woke up at 6:00pm and preached at 6:30pm. Many were saved. When we were finished eating, about 30 women came dancing in. They all had their faces painted, shaking all kinds of things that rattled, and beating drums. They danced around, and then a woman came in dressed as the devil. I began to share Jesus with them I said, "Repent, Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life." The sound of this devil band echoed through the night as I tried to sleep.

We came to a river today where many men and women were bathing in the nude, men on one side and women on the other.

We stopped to spend the night on a hill, a cool breeze was blowing. I began to sing as loud as I could. I had my shirt off, the sky was clear. It seemed as if millions of stars were putting on a light show. I sang and sang, my voice echoing through the hills, it blended perfectly with the sounds of the night. After about an hour of singing I noticed that a huge crowd had gathered to hear the voice and the message in song from the strange white man with the cross.

When I finished preaching I noticed on one side of the village women were rolling on the ground and crying, throwing dirt all over themselves. Someone had died and the people were grieving. The women beat the ground. They continued this for hours and days. They gather at the house of the nearest kin and then bury the dead. Usually the person is buried the same day or the next day. I tried to give them a message of consolation and hope, but in this primitive religion death is a great and possibly eternal separation.

When I arrived at one village, a young man about 17 years old came up and said, "Sir, will you tell us about God?" I almost cried as I told 75 people about Jesus. As I walked up they parted for me to pass. One man ran forward and fell on his knees. Folding his hands, he said, "Bless me Jesus, oh Jesus, bless me, I want to go to heaven." He was crying. The crowd pushed close around. He put my hand to his head. I felt so strange. Then I said, "I am a man, not Jesus. I am not Jesus but He is near. I will tell you how to talk to Him, how to know Him. He will bless you."

He pleaded, "Oh yes, yes, tell me, tell me." I told him how to talk with Jesus and everyone else heard. Then the two of us prayed. He leaped up in joy and happiness.

At the last home on a hill, an old man stood with six boys by him. I waved at him and he yelled, "We've been waiting for you all day. I want you to preach to these boys, I will interpret. We've heard about you." I climbed up the hill to this elderly 69 year old man. He gathered his six little boys, who lined up in a row beside the old man and I preached to them. They all gave their lives to Jesus. I loved them so much. He asked if he could carry the cross a little way. He and the six boys walked with me for about a half a mile, then we hugged, kissed and said goodbye, never to meet again until Heaven.

Today I am so dirty. I am walking along a little road where the trucks pass by and cover me with dirt. At the end of the day a black man said to me, "You black man or are you white man?" The road dust has covered me for three days and I am really a mess.

As I preached today I almost fainted. I had no microphone, just my voice. I was so weak I could hardly stand, for I had preached 15 times today, exhausted, but praising God. You know, it takes a lot to keep going on across this vast continent, it's tough. I never mention much about myself; it is hard for anyone to see me as I really am. My feet are in bandages, my shoes are worn through and the rocks are cutting my feet. I must get resoles on my shoes somewhere. My little toe and the soles of my feet are bleeding. I am now down to 173 pounds.

Tonight I am in the bush. I feel Jesus so close to me, wrapping His arms around me. Oh, He must love me so much. You know God truly loves me and I love Him. I will go on, praying that I will shine as a light in these distant lands for His glory.

I carried the cross today to the Executive Mansion of the President of Liberia, Dr. Talbot. It was really something. As I entered we tried to get the cross in the elevator, but it wouldn't fit so we had to carry it up the stairs to the fifth floor. Guards and soldiers joined in the very difficult task of getting the cross up the stairway. When I arrived, the two plush doors of the Executive Mansion opened and there was Dr. Talbot, standing behind a big desk with his entire Cabinet. He greeted me, came over to the cross and lifted it upon his shoulder. I asked to have a prayer, so we bowed our heads together and prayed. Here I am, an African cross walker in the President's office. When I left and came down the stairs through the Mansion, about 100 soldiers, guards and maids had gathered. I preached to them and the Executive Mansion was in a total state of Jesus confusion.

I am dirty, hungry and tired. This is a major highway, but graveled. It leads west, north, south, and east, so the traffic is very heavy with big trucks, buses and cars. It's the most dust I've ever had to walk through. Sometimes six or more trucks or cars came one right after the other for minutes at a time. I must breathe through a solid sheet of dirt. I hold my breath as long as I can as I try to find a break in the dust so I can breathe. I then hold my breath till the next break as I keep walking, praise God. I am covered with red dirt and as I sweat it runs as though I'm pouring blood!

I think the team of angels that looks after me must get very special merit badges for dangerous duty. I am ready to go Lord, but first let me have a glass of cool fresh water.

Today I reached Isa, a small trading village. You would have enjoyed Isa for it is a real trip of a town in these jungles, selling everything from wraparound sunglasses to coconuts, harmonicas, Superman T-shirts, little mirrors, etc. A short way out of town I almost got a new wife. She and her son joined me on the road and they wanted to go with me. "Oh, I'll be your African wife." I said, "Well thanks, but no thanks." She asked, "Do you speak French?" I said, "No," and she replied, "Well, I do." It was kind of funny but sad. Here was an offer of a wife, a child and an interpreter all in one. Again, I said, "No thanks," and continued on down the road.

Today is Easter, the day of the cross. This is the day we remember that Jesus carried the cross at Calvary. Were it not for this day there would be no hope, no salvation, and no life for eternity. But because He died I walk to spread the word of His life. As I paused today at noon I am exhausted, perhaps as tired as I have ever been. I hurt all over and am so hot. I am so weak I can hardly stand up. Made only 11 miles this morning. I am sad, I don't know why except, perhaps because the thoughts of Jesus dying for my sins and the sins of the world has filled me with the overwhelming sadness. I just cried and cried and cried. I think of my Lord Jesus and of all the lost people. The world is so lost and few Christians really care.

I remember the sign we hung over the cross when I was fasting in Hollywood for 28 days. The sign read, "Does Anyone Care?" Well, we could hang that sign on the world. Oh how I long to feel the total presence of God in Heaven and I pray I will be a light to the world, way out here in this distant bush.

Today I entered a village where a huge crowd was pushing and shoving. I decided to cook a little food and I had to change the burner on my tiny butane gas stove. As I started screwing in the gas tank, vapor began to escape. I had gotten it in wrong and had punctured a hole in the can. As the escaping gas rushed by my hand it began to freeze, so I had to let go of the tank. It began to squeal and shoot, like a jet, spraying white vapor all over the ground. As it flashed and screamed and raced through the village the people had never seen anything like it. It took off and they took off screaming and running for their lives. I lay on the ground rolling with laughter. It was so funny! I walked past an airport runway today; big modern jets were flying over straw huts located along the highway and the coconut trees growing by the seaside. It was a picture to remember. Two Africas, the modern and the old.

It rained all day and I was wet from 7:00am to 7:00pm, twelve full hours of walking, preaching, sloshing through mud and rain. At one point a demon possessed woman screamed, jerked and kicked at me. Every time I looked at her she screamed. I claimed in the name of Jesus for God to silence her. He did, and she just stood there and shook as I preached. At the end, many gave their lives to Jesus. I went over to the lady to lay hands on her and prayed. She was set free. After a final loud scream she was fine.

Once when I was preaching a huge crowd gathered. As I stood on the Land Rover preaching, a man stepped out of a store and showered the crowd with perfume. Soon the smell was all around us and it was the sweetest crowd I had ever preached to. The man was very happy that I had come. I was reminded of the woman in the Bible that anointed the feet of Jesus with perfume.

The cross was leaning against a coconut tree with the ocean waves washing almost to my feet. The waves are white as they begin breaking about a hundred yards from the tree-lined coast. Sharp jagged rocks are sticking up and in the distance the white sandy coast of narrow beach stretches as far as the eyes can see. Not a person is around. The weather is cool, and there are coconuts all around. There is no human sound, just the sound of the birds blending with the sea waves and the rustle of leaves making a most beautiful sound, like a heavenly choir. Surely this is God's creation making music as only it can. Oh, thank you Jesus for calling me into evangelism, for calling me to preach thy Holy Word to the entire world. I'm not worthy to even hold the Bible, much less preach it. I don't believe there is another person who has preached in so many different kinds of places in the entire world.

I have preached in houses of prostitution, homosexual churches, Hell's Angels' camps, at rock festivals, in bars and nightclubs, go-go clubs, nude clubs, on the streets, on sidewalks, on porches, in football stadiums, at automobile races, wrestling matches, dirty movie porno clubs. I have preached in churches, in jails, in prisons, in massage parlors, in Governor's offices, presidents' offices, villages, hospitals, battlefields. I have preached on television, the radio, at ball games, in gambling casinos, bingo parlors. I've preached on the top of tanks, on an oil rig. I've preached at air bases, almost every place one can imagine. What a life! If only other people, especially the young, could see the thrill of serving Jesus.

I had a new interpreter today. He was a good interpreter, as a matter of fact, when I preached it seemed as though he was preaching better than I. The only problem was that when he finished preaching he would get in the Land Rover and just sit there. I would be talking and sharing with the people. Eating and drinking with them. When I asked the interpreter what was the problem, he said, "I'd love to preach and love to share the truth, but you can't touch those people, you'll get all kinds of diseases." He said, "You can't eat, you'll get sick, the food is bad and the water is terrible." He loved God, he wanted to love God and spread the word of God but he didn't love the people. I had to let him go in a nice way because I felt he was like most people in the world. They love the word of God, they love God, but they don't love the people around them.

"My dear children, I want to tell you that I love you. My heart is full beyond words with pleasure and love as I think of you. I know it must be hard to understand why I am away from you. At night you may cry for me and wonder where I am. I'll try to explain, but my words are inadequate. My deepest desire and my one passion are to love and obey God. He leads me and I try to follow. I cannot explain His infinite call, why the road for me has been so different and demanding. I cannot say, but I just trust Him. Because we are traveling all the time you've never known a house of your own and toys have been scarce. You've had to leave all your friends, even the new ones you meet on the road. We have to struggle to feed and clothe you because we are always on the move. I'm sorry if I fail you, I try to do my best, but you have all my love. You are the thrill of my life."

I remember back in 1968 when Gina was four or five years old, I came home at dawn after witnessing all night, exhausted, and fell in my bed. She awakened, and came into the bedroom and looked at me. Although she was only a little child she had walked the streets with me, so she knew where I had been. I'll never forget as she looked into my eyes. I saw her beautiful eyes and long golden blonde hair. She said, 'Daddy, I understand, I really do.' Some of the most beautiful words I have ever heard in my life. I know that deep in your hearts you understand me; you understand the call of God.

Life has been strange for me. It has been a constant struggle. God has always had me do the impossible and when the impossible is accomplished He has another impossibility immediately in front of me. He calls me to attempt the impossible tasks. For some, success brings human luxuries of life and ease, but for me God has always had me leave at the moment of success and glory and start out on new and even more difficult tasks. The hand of the Lord has been on me and used me and moved me and He will continue to do so. He has anointed me to shake the world and this He has done and is doing. I do not strive to bring it to pass, He does. The things we started in Hollywood have spread around the world. I have had constant opportunity to go to the road of "big time evangelism and organization," but God has called me away from this to the simple, dramatic and direct. He wants me in the dirt with the oppressed, the poor, and the lonely. He wants me to cut the hearts of the lazy, the lip Christians, and the greedy. He uses me as a sharp knife, one swift stroke and it cuts deep. I can't explain it but God will help you to know why our way has been the way of struggle, blisters, dirt, cold, pain and glorious victory and power. I trust that when you grow old you will be pleased with me."

I went to a movie tonight. My heart was broken. The people are going crazy over the Chinese movies and American police and murder movies. The movies are terrible, very bloody but the reaction of the people is even worse. I've seen only one and I will never go back to another over here. The crowds scream, "Kill, kill, kill," or "Hit, hit, hit." They applaud the violence. I've never seen anything like the way Africans respond to movies. It is so sad that the western world is teaching these people about sexual perversion, crime, and cheating. I feel so ashamed about what we are teaching, not that this country is perfect, but it is so evil the way the West is compounding their troubles and their lives by teaching them the worst, not the best, that there is in our society.

I gave away most of my food today. People are in such bad shape. I wish I could feed the world. Beautiful little people work. I tell you, it is so unbelievable how hard they work, mainly grassland. Many have to walk so far to get water. I do love the people of the soil, they are so friendly and sweet, so interested in what I am doing. They always say, "What message from God do you have for us?" Oh, that is the cry of these people, God save them all. It is just God's grace that moves us on to spread His word.

How thrilled I am to be giving these strong years of my life in this service for Jesus. I know many people must think I'm crazy, for in their minds, I'm wasting the opportunities I have had for riches, power, organization, and materialism. To waste these priceless years of strength when I could be fishing, watching sports, driving new cars and sitting in air conditioned houses, or leading a mighty Jesus organization is unheard of. Tell them not to weep for me, I weep for them, for I am in the center of God's spontaneous unorganized grass-roots richest blessings and I love it. The values of the world offer me nothing, how could it be that crowds of preachers are willing and feel led of God to pastor the "first" church with all its benefits, and here there is plenty of room for "first" churches, but no takers.

I know God has called me to keep walking, but otherwise I'd find the most remote and needy area of Africa, preach the gospel and help them farm. Oh, wake up world!

I find few people are interested in me when I am back in America, the real person, who I am, my emotions, the inside of me. I think it was also that way with Jesus. The crowds saw Him and they wanted His miracles, His healing, His food, the things He did. But few were interested just in Him. Even the disciples fought over a place of honor near Him. So many people in the West seem interested in my stories, where I have been, the exciting things. They want to hear this story and that story. They see an image, but not me. Very few people ever say, "What is your life, what are your values? What is the basis for your living? What emotions have you experienced? Why is Jesus Christ Lord? Tell us what you know about God, what have you learned about life with Jesus?" On the contrary, most ask, "How many countries have you traveled? What is the prettiest scene you have ever seen? Where do you get your money? What church do you belong to?" I get very tired of this. Many times there seems to be no place to escape. I try to insert the real Jesus into their questions. It seems so many live their lives on such a shallow basis.

The greatest thing is love. God said that we should love Him with all our hearts, soul, strength, and might and to love our neighbor as our self. Then Jesus even made that love more profound by saying, "We are to love as He has loved us." I think in essence when we face the judgment of God, perhaps since love is the most important thing that God may be interested in on judgment day, we need to examine the quality of our love, the true quality? How did we love the poorest, how did we love those who seemed to be despised?

Once Jesus was talking and He said, "I was naked and you didn't clothe me, I was thirsty and you didn't give me drink, I was a stranger and you didn't take me in, I was sick and you didn't visit me, I was in prison and you didn't come to me."

We will say, "Lord, we never saw you that way."

And He will say, “As ye did it not to the least of these, ye did it not unto Me."

So, what is the quality of love? How enduring has it been? How temporary or changing?

Lord, it's so good. It has been a long hot walk today but the people were eager to hear the Word of God. Crowds were already waiting for my arrival all through the day. Tonight I'm sleeping in a small village and am preaching at 8:30pm at the church. I'm exhausted, but not too much to share with these eager people. They all welcome me, gather around to look at me and want me to preach. I just ate and took a bath before about 100 people who had followed me, I couldn't keep them away. I tried to get in a little dark spot. I do more strips a month than most go-go girls in Hollywood. As a matter of fact, I not only strip, but I bathe in front of them. It makes no difference, they are curious about everything. It feels so strange sometimes when I'm in a house and I bathe alone after nearly a year when I bathed with crowds!

Praise the Lord, today I got a driver and interpreter. He is driving my Land Rover and interpreting as I preach to big crowds. Couldn't find a Christian. He is Muslim, wearing a little Muslim skull cap while I carry the cross and preach about Jesus. When I asked him if he would interpret correctly and not tell about Mohammad when I'm talking about Jesus, he said, "I swear on Allah my God I will tell the truth."

I just said, "Okay, just tell the truth."

Tonight when I got to the end of my sermon and gave the call for people to commit their life to Jesus, I asked, "If you'll give your life to Jesus right now, then I want you to raise your hand."

My interpreter had his hand up and he didn't say anything.

"What did you tell them," I asked. "That if they wanted to give their hearts to Jesus to raise their hand?"

He said, "I do."

And I said, "No, you didn't. You didn't say anything. You are the only one with your hand up. You haven't told them.

And he said, "I want to give my life to Jesus Christ."

I suddenly realized that he was the first convert. So, I just stopped for a minute, explained more of the gospel, led him in prayer, and he was saved. Most of the village was converted.

Well, glory to God? I arrived in a village today and believe it or not, they had a kerosene refrigerator! Of all glorious things! And, I had a BIG glass of ice water! Oh, what joy it is to drink cold water! It's funny, when you live in the midst of abundance, you cannot even conceive of being without it. But when you've been without little things for so long, and you finally get them again, they seem so big and important. So it is with life. We take so much for granted. I think living on the road like this heightens the feeling. Even a bed, you get so excited when you see a real bed. When you get into a clean house and there are no flies, you can't believe it. When you find the ultimate, an air conditioner, it feels like heaven and really makes you appreciate everything. Most children like just turning on the faucet, just turn the knob, punch the place and here comes the ice out, open the refrigerator door and it is cold. But that's not the way most of the world lives. They have to carry their water for miles most of their lives, as well as th