It was on December 7, 1972, that I carried the twelve-foot cross into Morocco from Ceuta, a small Spanish enclave. There were no problems at the border.
Just after I crossed the border into Morocco with the cross s a bright rainbow formed in the sky. It seemed the rainbow ended at my feet! It was the first and only time I have ever felt that I was at the end of a rainbow.
Jesus spoke to me saying, “I am with you! Fear not, go on!”
Only a short time later I truly rested on those words.
Remember, I had been carrying the cross only three years. I had carried the cross across the United States, then through the United Kingdom and Ireland. Then I carried the cross from the English Channel through France and Spain and Portugal.
This was my first walk in Africa and my first time in a Muslim country. As I write this I have now carried the cross in every Muslim nation in the world with no problems like I faced here in Morocco.
I think about what I did and what I could have done better to keep the event I will tell you about from never have happening. However I had a lesson to learn and learn I did.
It was my second day of walking in Morocco and I walked with the cross into Tetouan. My family was in the Land Rover including my children Gina, Joel, Joy and Joshua. We were pulling a camping trailer. They would drive up the road in front of me and find a place to park and wait for me to arrive with the cross, then they would move up again.
As I carried the cross into the city some children started shouting at me. Some started spitting on me and then throwing stones. There were shops along
the street. Now, I know I should have responded differently and gone into a shop and got something to drink or eat. The owner would have stopped the
children. I would have made a friend there and in time I could have walked on in peace. What I did was smile at the children and kept on walking. However, by just continuing to walk it only gave the group of children a target to harass.
More and more children crowded about and stones were hitting the cross and me. I had spit all over me.
My family came by in the Land Rover but I waved them on.“Don’t stop,” I shouted.
There was a lot of traffic and things quieted down. Then I arrived in the center of the city and a crowd of adults was waiting for the cross. I knew I faced life and death. I whispered a prayer and walked on. Soon the people
were all around me. They were shouting, spitting and pushing the cross and me. Some of the people carry sticks. Soon I was being hit with their sticks and the cross was beaten and the people were trying to smash the wheel of the cross.
I thought I might die and I remember saying, “Lord get supper ready, I think I’m coming home.”
At that moment two men in white robes stood on the steps in the doorway of a store. They raised their hands and began to shout at the crowd. The crowd turned to shout back at the two men in white.
For a moment the crowd was confused. At that time, I simply walked through the crowd. It seemed they could not see me. Their eyes seemed glazed. After a few moments a few people spit at me and a rock or two was thrown and a few shouted, but no one came after me!
It was an awesome and glorious moment in time.
I carried the cross on to Tanger. Then I carried the cross through the capital city of Rabat and on almost to Casablanca. I had no more problems in Morocco.
Jesus did it. All glory to God.
We had a wonderful time walking and talking with the people of Morocco. We met with some groups that have home churches in Morocco. These were deeply committed followers of Jesus. They face huge problems should their meetings be found out. Yet I found the police very friendly. Several times the police had us park for the night at police stations.
I well remember seeing sheepherders bring their sheep to watering holes. The sheep would drink then lay down. The sheep stayed in their own groups. The men and boys would sit around, talk, eat and drink. When one herder was ready to leave he would make a sound and the sheep of that man would get up and follow him through the crowd of other sheep laying all about!
The Lord is my Shepard! Glory
Jesus is the Good Shepard! Praise the Lord.
God bless Morocco.
Pilgrim followers of Jesus,
Arthur and Denise Blessitt