Back in 2003 when I was riding a bicycle across America for the first time, preaching the gospel all along the way, I became a bit like Israel in the desert and was accustomed to murmuring, sometimes even about the stupidest things. At one point up in Michigan, I was pretty discouraged. In my self-pity, I was chastened of the Lord and convicted. It was almost as if He was asking directly: “What if I commanded you to drop the bicycle and to walk across the United States? Would you do it for Me? Or would you complain about that too?” After wrestling with God, I finally surrendered and said, “Yes, LORD, if you ever asked me to walk across America, I would do it.” From that point of yielding, I was propelled out of a funk and more clearly able to focus upon the task at hand. The proof of these things lies not in my remembrance or recollection of them, but the fact that I wrote this stuff down in a personal journal. The memories are cloudy, but the words written down that night are clear. I eventually finished that coast-to-coast bicycle ride many months later, and my precious daughter who now walks with me was born along the way, in Mammoth Lakes, California. I do not remember ever entertaining again the thought of quitting or giving up that ride and the preaching that went with it . . . not again after I surrendered to the LORD that night and wrote down in my journal: “Am I willing? Yes Lord!” In the years that followed, I would ride a bicycle across the United States twice more, preaching all along the way, and the LORD would graciously allow me and my family to serve Him and preach the Gospel in more than 40 countries around the world, including, on more than one occasion, the Land where He once walked in human flesh. That journal ultimately got tucked away on a shelf in my office, along with multiple other volumes that I would fill in the ministry years that followed. I stopped journaling more than ten years ago; it just became too cumbersome, and I still regret failing to keep it up. Interestingly, my very last entry at the end of that shelf of volumes was on July 28th, 2010:

“Moment by moment, obedience should be the goal. Success really is irrelevant.”

All I have ever wanted to be in ministry is OBEDIENT, not successful (whatever that even means). That’s why I rode a bicycle across America in the first place, my pregnant wife manning the support vehicle. A shelf full of personal journals details what this desire and the struggles and failures that went with it looked like over many years. Many of those points of struggle and surrender have been long forgotten by my finite mind, but the words are still written down, a testimony that cannot be denied. Back in January, shortly after I had preached my guts out at the National Mall and the United States Capitol on the 6th (something for which I would welcome a subpoena from the spiritually destitute and "wicked as hell" United States Congress; I'd welcome the opportunity to point my finger in their faces and tell them exactly what is wrong with this wicked country), God threw a series of circumstances my way that had me digging through those old journals. Suddenly, BAM! There it was on paper . . . “Am I willing? Yes Lord!” Don't ever tell the LORD you are willing to do something and then foolishly think these words can be sealed up and forgotten. You may forget about it, but He won't. And one day, there will come a knocking at the door. That knock came for me this year, and I knew it was time to do what I said I would be willing to do all those years before.

And guess what? Here we are:

• 1903.45 total miles WALKED

• 1138 total witnessing ENCOUNTERS along the byways

• 59 Bibles freely GIVEN

And just look at this route. I knew from the beginning that it wouldn’t be the shortest, the easiest, or the straightest. It’s not like that when God calls you to obedience. And, I am starting to think that it will be at least 10,000 total miles before we put our feet in the Pacific Ocean. The LORD knows, and I rest in that.

“A man's heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps” (Proverbs 16:9). “Order my steps in thy word” (Psalm 119:133).

Occasionally, I take time to revisit old email newsletters that I sent out to folks from the mission field (back before there were blogs) and transform them into posts like this one, in the spirit of II Corinthians 1:3-4 and to the end that some believer out there might be comforted, encouraged, or edified. I recently did this with an email report that went out to folks on the FPGM prayer list, dated September 11, 2003. This short newsletter is far more special to me now because I sent it out the day after I told the LORD I was WILLING to walk across America if He ever asked me to do so. In my recap, I mention a check in my spirit about leaving out on the bicycle and how we ultimately hung around for an extra day of street preaching in the Detroit metropolitan area. What I don't explain is the wrestling with the LORD the night before where I surrendered and said, "Yes, I am willing." What a joy it is, all these years later, to literally be putting my feet to that point of surrender. Anyway, as this report shows, that bicycle ride was never about pedaling a bicycle across America. That was just a means to secure an end—ENCOUNTERS, Gospel encounters in the highways and hedges. Jamie and I had some great encounters on the streets of Pontiac, Michigan the day after the “Yes I am willing” journal entry. And like that entry, I had long ago forgotten about these and am thankful today that they had been written down. I definitely remember David, Rosalind, Frederick, and Chris and wonder where they are today. Here’s that old report in blog format:

I’ve pedaled more than 12,000 miles across this country three times, and there were many times when I was pressed in my spirit to wait, take an unplanned route, or to just sit still. And those journeys always took much longer than originally anticipated. Why? Because it was never about the pedal revolutions; it was always about the ENCOUNTERS, the opportunities to preach Christ, the divine appointments along the way. It’s not any different with this long walk across America. It’s not about getting from point A to point B on my time. It’s all about the encounters along the byways. My last newsletter—A QUICK UPDATE (October 12)—was short and sweet, summarizing without much detail a 9-day, 170-mile leg in Virginia. That was some of the most beautiful walking along this entire journey, and there were lots of great Gospel encounters that I simply didn’t have time to detail. Even now, I think of Early Boyd, Waterlilly the AT thru-hiker, Charlie the 81-year-old AT thru-hiker, Hippy with his big old beard grilling burgers in his front yard, the folks outside the Damascus Brewery who listened to me preach, Russ the delusional healthcare worker, guys with guns on the side of the road, Mr. Maynard Clifton saved back in 1962, Tammy who was so grateful for a Bible, 3 old farmers putting up cattle fencing, high school kids in Dungannon, a forest service worker at Birch Gap, two widowed sisters in Christ, residents outside an apartment complex in MacClure, Ronnie digging a ditch, lots of folks sitting on their front porches, young Austin with his skateboard, Mark, Larry, Billy & Donna, Robin, Austin & Billy, Ken, Dereck, Jason, Kim, Homer & Azzie, Jeff, Judy, Maggie, and Pastor Sammy who is now my friend. Praise God for a beautiful long Virginia leg with lots of beautiful Virginia encounters. I chuckle because we never planned on setting foot in that state when we set out from Cape Hatteras back in March, and I certainly didn’t entertain the thought when we walked out of North Carolina out past Murphy on August 9th. Even today, we still aren’t as far west as we were that day.

This week, after a 7-day / 118-mile leg that took us into West Virginia and Kentucky, we packed up to come home for a few days of rest. Soon, we will be too far from home to do this, especially with the outrageous fuel prices, so we take advantage of the opportunities when we can. Once again, it was a blessing to worship with our local church body yesterday. I really do praise God for that. I love my local church, both Living Word Baptist Church in Creedmoor, NC (my original sending church), and New Testament Christian Fellowship in Claremont, NC (the home church we helped to plant and where we regularly fellowship). They say it is “Pastor Appreciation Month” (at least by a lot of the church signs I saw along this most recent walking leg). I don’t know what that means or who even determines that. But, let me go on record: I love and appreciate Brother Mike, my sending church pastor; and I love and appreciate Pastor Terry who pastored there when those believers commissioned and sent Jamie and me out to the mission field long ago (and who faithfully served as an FPGM Trustee for many years). Finally, I love and appreciate the elders and deacons of New Testament Christian Fellowship who serve as true accountability for our work, labor, and patience. Do you have a pastor who faithfully teaches and preaches God’s Word? Do you love him and appreciate him enough to tell him? Are you blessed with a local church fellowship where God’s Word is not compromised in these dark times? Would you stop what you were doing and drive five hours out of the way to be with them on Sunday morning if the opportunity afforded itself? Well, we would, and we have.

Unlike the previous leg of this journey, the route into West Virginia and Kentucky wasn’t particularly beautiful. In fact, it was quite ugly. I accumulated a lot of coal dust on my shoes; we stepped over more than a few used needles on the side of the road; and we felt the weight of the spiritual darkness that hangs in those parts from all the opioid drug abuse and going all the way back to the violence, bloodshed, and raucousness of the Hatfields and McCoys. And yet, this leg was special and will be remembered as such. Not only did we claim our 1000th encounter of this walking journey along those coal mining byways, but we broke our single-day encounter record from way back on June 10th (27 walking through downtown Hickory, NC), and counted more encounters by far than any other continuous leg of this journey . . . BY FAR. There were so many encounters, and we were able to give away 10 Bibles, considerably more than along previous legs.

I’ve talked about ENCOUNTERS since this journey began. But what, you might ask, counts for an “encounter”? Is it an individual? Sometimes, but not always. Is it someone to whom you give a Gospel tract or a Bible? Sometimes, but not always. If you confront a group of five people with the Gospel and give out five Gospel tracts, is that five encounters? No, that’s just one encounter. If Eric & Bethany confront a man with the Gospel and give him a Gospel tract while walking, as they did to a burly bearded man along highway 40 in Eastern Kentucky the other day, and then I witness to that same man as he later walks by me while I eat a bowl of cereal on the side of the road, is that two encounters? No, it’s only one, a double-barrelled one no doubt, but only one. What if I leave a tract on someone’s car, front porch, or attached to their mailbox—as we often do? Is that an encounter? Obviously not. We define an encounter just like Noah Webster did in his 1828 Dictionary of the English language (hands down, my dictionary of choice):

ENCOUNT'ER, n. [L. contra, against, or rather rencontre.]: a meeting, particularly a sudden or accidental meeting of two or more persons.

When we say we’ve had 1138 total encounters along this journey, we mean sudden meetings with individuals, groups, or even crowds along our route—all unplanned and unforeseen and all involving actual interaction whereby biblical truth is DECLARED. Of course, as there are many different types of meetings, we have had many different types of encounters.

For example, if a stretch of highway is particularly busy with a steady flow of traffic that results in MULTIPLE drivers honking horns, waving, or flipping us off as they drive by, we consider that an encounter. It’s a Gospel encounter because the cross was very visible to a whole lot of folks on that stretch of road, and it sparked reaction. Recently, we had to walk a busy stretch of US 52 up to Kermit, West Virginia, one of the few places where there is a bridge across the Tug Fork into Kentucky. There was a steady flow of traffic along that 6.5-mile stretch, and the cross was very visible. We got a lot of horn honking just from the passersby and so deemed the US 52 traffic a single encounter (1 of 37 that day). The same happened the next day as we had to tackle a busy and dangerous 3-mile stretch of US 23 north of Paintsville, Kentucky. The cross again sparked reaction, so the US 23 traffic we regarded a single encounter (1 of 33 that particular day). I can only think of five other such encounters along this whole journey, and they were all worthy: the US 64 traffic in Randolph County, NC one morning; the motorcycle traffic on the Cherohala Skyway in Tennessee; the motorcycle and drag car traffic on the Tail of the Dragon in Swain County, NC; the bumper-to-bumper tourist traffic on the one-way Cades Cove Loop and the dangerously busy Laurel Creek Rd, both in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. These kind of traffic encounters are rare, however, because we purpose to avoid the main roads (where possible), not primarily for own safety, but in the spirit of Luke 14:23: to meet people where they live (their front yards, front porches, local haunts, and workplaces) and not where they are going (speeding off down the highway). For this reason, I especially loved this last leg of the walk. It was ugly on the eyes, but satisfying for the feet of the preacher. Houses clumped together with local businesses right beside the road in little communities scattered up and down narrow mountain hollows—’tis is a good recipe for good encounters.

Another type of encounter we have logged these past months involves walking across busy interstate overpasses. We normally stop, hold aloft the cross until we hear at least five honks from one direction. Then, we cross to the other side of the overpass and hold it up again until we hear at least five honks from that direction. I remember doing this above I-85, I-40, and I-77—all in North Carolina. At least once, it took awhile and I found myself wishing I had an Aaron and a Hur there to help hold up my arms (Exodus 17:12). So, the interstate overpasses account for 3 of the 1138 encounters; highway traffic along busy stretches account for another 7.

So what about the other 1128? Many of these are individuals; others are groups of various sizes that we happen upon. And then, there are the street corners where we stop to preach in the open-air. A single individual to whom we bear witness is a single encounter. A group before which we bear witness is a single encounter. And, a street corner upon which we stand to publicly bear witness is considered a single encounter. An encounter might involve a long conversation, as it did with a man alongside Hwy 40 in Kentucky last week. Other encounters might involve a short proclamation, as it did when a Kentuckian’s vicious dog very nearly tasted the side of my cross upside his jaw. I hollered to that man up on his porch as he stoically watched his mutt try to attack me unprovoked: “Sir, this cross is a visible and powerful testimony of our only hope here in America; but it is also a powerful weapon that I am not afraid to use. Your dog isn’t the first to learn that, and he won’t be the last on this long walking journey. I’m not afraid of dogs; I’m not afraid of men; but I am afraid for my country. America is in big trouble with the LORD! We need to humble ourselves, REPENT, and get right with Him through Jesus Christ.” The stoic expression never left his face, but he heard the truth. That was an encounter.

Most encounters result in giving someone a Gospel tract, but others don’t allow it. For example, I recently stopped to preach to some folks on a porch. There was a great gully between me and that porch, so I couldn’t walk over there and hand them a Gospel tract. I just preached coming judgment, the BAD NEWS, and the refuge of the blood of Christ’s cross, the GOOD NEWS. They heard it; that was an encounter. Sometimes, after sharing with folks on their porches, we will ask if it would be ok to leave them a tract in their mailbox. Most oblige and identify the correct box. Other times, people just stare at us and say nothing. Like the dog-man above, it’s still an encounter. We preached biblical truth; they heard it; we can therefore praise the LORD.

We had a few interesting encounters involving groups as we made our way into West Virginia and Kentucky. One morning, Eric & Bethany passed by a high school along US 52 just south of Kermit, what has been called the opioid capital of the United States. There were a bunch of kids on the athletic field, so Eric just grabbed their attention, asked if they could guess where we had started walking, and then PREACHED! They heard biblical truth; we deemed that an encounter. Later that same day, as I was forced to walk through Inez, Kentucky during the afternoon rush, I happened upon a group of people standing in line around a white tent in a Dollar General parking lot. I don’t know what the guy at the table with the giant pot leaf on his shirt was pedaling under that tent or what those folks, most of them masked, were waiting to buy. But, the sidewalk had me walk right up on them as they glared at a travel-worn man carrying a cross. I just stopped right there, pointed my finger at the crowd and said, “Folks, this wicked nation of ours is in great big trouble with the LORD. Judgment is coming. Hellfire is coming. The Bible says in Psalm 9: ‘The wicked shall be turned into hell and ALL THE NATIONS THAT FORGET GOD’ (9:17). That means the USA is in bigger trouble than those heathen nations that never knew the LORD. Those masks can’t help you in the Day of Judgment; neither will that shot. It’s time to humble ourselves and repent. That’s the bad news . . . “ Then, expecting those folks to grab some pitchforks and run me out of town, I gave them the GOOD NEWS: “Jesus Christ was crucified, buried, and rose up from the dead. Behind His blood is a refuge from the wrath to come. You need to flee the wrath to come and hide behind that shed blood.” What followed was an awkward moment of silence. The guy with the big pot leaf on his shirt was visibly annoyed, but out of the silence, one lady spoke up: “God bless you sir. Thank you for those words.” Then, a few others spoke up also, voicing gratitude. Some Gospel tracts then went out as I explained why I was walking across America. That, my friends, was 1 of 37 encounters that day. Not a mile down the road was another group encounter. The football team at the Inez High School was practicing out on the field which literally abutted the road I was walking. Almost in unison, the coaches and players stopped what they were doing and started watching me as I slowly passed by. I stopped, waved, and let the cross and the words etched thereupon do the preaching. A couple of the coaches waved back. That, my friends, was an encounter.

On October 14th, as we walked out of a remote corner of Buchanan County, the only county in Virginia to border both West Virginia and Kentucky, we came into Kentucky for a few miles before crossing into West Virginia that afternoon. Near the Virginia state line, I ran into a road crew doing some repair work. I handed out tracts to the workers and spoke briefly with a couple of them as they took a break. Those kind gentlemen offered me a cold drink and some snacks out of their own stash. That group of road workers was 1 of 42 encounters that day, breaking our previous single-day record of 27 that had been holding strong since June 10th (by God’s grace, we would break that previous single-day record twice more on this latest leg). Shortly after this encounter, I had an encounter with a coal truck driver, and then another encounter with Kentucky James. He said to me, “It’s crazy. The government and all, they be talkin’ about putting chips in us, man.” I explained that all was coming to pass exactly as the Bible said it would. He didn’t have a Bible; I offered him one; he received it with thanksgiving. Kentucky James was encounter #989 of this long walk. I hoped #1,000 would be that day, and I prayed as I walked that it would be special. In fact, I asked the LORD that He would miraculously put a lost sheep from the House of Israel into my path for #1000 as it had been for #1.

That milestone later came in the tiny coal community of Majestic, Kentucky. It wasn’t an encounter with a Jewish person, but it was truly special. As I passed by a small house, a lady came out on her porch and called to me: “How far have you walked?” I turned around, walked up to her fence, and answered her question. What followed was a long conversation with Ms. Dotson, who knew she was lost and going to hell. When I offered her a Bible, she admitted that she never learned to read or write. I explained how God’s Word is living and powerful, able with the illumination of the Holy Spirit to transcend even man’s inability to read. I insisted that she take that Bible, that it would be a visible reminder of that crazy preacher who walked by her home and shared with her how to get right with the LORD. I mentioned testimonies of people where I used to labor in the Third World who didn’t know how to read, but God gave them understanding in the reading of the Scriptures. I exhorted her to ask the LORD to give her understanding or to send someone who would regularly read it to her. I then asked if she would allow me, in view of her reading difficulties, to preach to her the Gospel tract I like to share with folks. She replied, “Yes, please do.” That precious woman sat down on her porch steps and didn’t take her eyes off of me the entire time. I simply preached that Gospel tract and called her to repentance toward God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. I prayed with Ms. Dotson, gave her that Bible and one of my walking preacher tracts for a momento of those moments, and then I went on my way. Now, I suppose I could have asked her to repeat a “sinner’s prayer” after me, and I suppose she would have done so. But, I did not want to get in the way of the Holy Spirit doing His work. His work is real and lasting, and never just an emotional reaction. I am quite confident this was a divine appointment and that the LORD use it. Moreover, as I’ll never forget the spot where #thelongwalkusa hit 1,000 miles, I’ll never forget the face of it’s 1,000th encounter. If you think about it, please pray for Ms. Dotson of Majestic, Kentucky. I also preached to three couples on their porches in Majestic that day, and I prayed with Ms. Debra for her four grown children, all strung out on opioid drugs. It’s a blessing to ask someone how you can specifically pray for them and to offer to do it right then and there. Ms. Debra had tears of gratitude in her eyes as we parted ways.

I suppose I could go on and on about so many more encounters from this last leg of the journey. But, you get the picture. America is truly under judgment, and yet, the fields are white unto harvest. There is truly a famine in the land for hearing the Word of God (Amos 8:11), and yet, such times make for precious opportunity to put a Bible into someone’s hands. Let me say something about Bibles. We certainly don’t hand them out like Gospel tracts (so far, we have only given out 59 across 1903.45 miles). And when we do offer one, it is typically following a fruitful conversation about the things of the LORD whereby we discover that the person doesn’t have a Bible or one that is readily accessible. So, encounters that result in a Bible going out are always special. Hallelujah! We gave out 10 Bibles on this last leg. Of course, Kentucky James and Ms. Dotson were two of those. We also gave one to the Carter Family (elderly parents and three grown children) who invited us over to have some pizza for lunch. At that moment, I was hungry, so it was a real blessing. And a few days later, we gave one to Mark, a struggling Iraqi war veteran. October 17th, however, was extra special in terms of Bibles. We gave out 4 that day, and each of those encounters was memorable. There was Pickaxe Raymond who was walking down the road with his pickaxe, headed for the coal mines. There was Matt, another Iraqi war veteran who had been shot up pretty bad over there (he showed me the scars). His face was covered in coal dust from being in the mines earlier that day, and he was working on a big rig in his front yard. As the sun was going down, I ran into Stewart, a river man, with his big white beard. He spends a lot of time on the water and now has a copy of God’s Word to read as he floats the Tug Fork toward the Ohio. The day’s fourth Bible actually went out early that morning, and the background to this encounter is rooted in our love for sharing the truth about the Jewish Messiah with lost sheep from the House of Israel, God’s covenant people used of Him to write down the Holy Scriptures for the world (Romans 3:1-2).

Remember, our ministry exists to testify FIRST to the Jewish people, and ALSO to the Gentile nations: repentance toward God and faith in Jesus the Messiah. Our very first encounter on this walking journey was with a Jewish girl working in a Sheetz gas station down in Eastern North Carolina. It was along the drive to the starting line. We have had a few Jewish encounters since, but they are rare. Notwithstanding, our eyes are always open and searching. Late on the afternoon of October 16, I walked upon two teenage girls, one with pink hair, standing on a corner in North Matewan, West Virginia. They had balloons in their hands as if they just came from a birthday party. I stopped and said, “Ladies, I hope you enjoyed the party because all the parties are soon going to be over. Judgment is coming to this wicked nation. Are you ready?” We talked for a few minutes, and they took Gospel tracts. As I was leaving, one of them asked me: “Are you Jewish?” I said, “No,” but then explained why I love and appreciate the Jewish people. That was that; I ambled down the road thinking about the steep slog ahead up and over Red Jacket Gap. A few minutes later, that young lady’s question started to haunt me. Why would she ask me that? Usually, Jewish folks ask me that question when I testify to them about the Jewish Messiah. Yes, I did have a small Israel flag flying from my backpack below the upside-down American flag, but when the average American teenager in the public school these days can’t tell you the name of the first President of the United States, I didn’t expect that a teenager in a podunk West Virginia town would ask such a question because she recognized that flag. I started thinking that maybe this girl was Jewish and I had missed an opportunity to put a Hebrew/English copy of the Scriptures into her hands. So, I radioed Eric who was somewhere behind with the support vehicle. I asked him to drive around and look for those girls and to inquire if the one is Jewish. She actually did have that Ashkenazi look to her. Eric drove around but couldn’t find them. They were gone. That night, I was a bit restless, wondering why that girl had asked me that question and if I had blown an opportunity with one of those lost sheep we had long been seeking.

Early the next morning, I dropped Eric and Bethany off at a crossroads where we had stopped walking the evening before. We prayed for the day and asked the LORD to help us find that young lady. The two of them started plodding toward Delbarton, and I drove the 20 minutes over the pass and back down to North Matewan. I looked around on the main drag and drove a few side roads to no avail. North Matewan is a very small place. I decided to give up at a stop sign and prepared to turn left and go drive back over the mountain. I looked to my right before pulling out and saw an apartment complex. I swung around quickly and pulled into that place. It looked like a ghost town, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to circle the apartment buildings. I crawled over a few speed bumps and got toward the end of the block when suddenly, two young ladies walked out into the parking lot. One of them was the girl I was seeking. I praised the LORD and then pulled up trying not to come across like some sort of creep. I called from the driver’s window: “Hi young lady, do you remember me? I’m that preacher who walked through here yesterday afternoon. You asked me a question and it kept me up last night wondering why you asked such a question.” As it turned out, she was not Jewish. But interestingly, she had recognized the Israeli flag because she was curious about Israel and had been reading about some Hebrew culture. That is why she asked me if I was Jewish. Anyway, this afforded me an opportunity to explain a little about Israel’s role in God’s plan and purpose for the ages and to offer her a copy of One Heartbeat Away, a great book by my friend Mark Cahill. It was gladly received. She had a different friend with her this particular morning, one who didn’t even have a Bible in her home. She was very happy when I gave her one. The whole scene was very encouraging even though it unfolded differently than expected. Undoubtedly, the LORD answered our prayers to find that girl, and it was our curiosity about whether or not she was Jewish that He used to get a copy of His Word into a home that needed it. I also got to witness to a couple other folks in that apartment complex before driving back over the mountain to find Eric and Bethany. While I was giving a Bible to Kylie at the apartment complex, they were giving one to Pickaxe Raymond. That whole day started off great and only got better. By the time we packed things up at dark in the parking lot of the Naugatuk, WV post office, we had enjoyed 26 encounters and had given away 4 Bibles.

I’ve said it many times before. One of my favorite parts about Jewish ministry is all the Gentiles it puts into our path. If we’re unable to bear witness to Israel (our first love) on these byways, then we’ll use Israel to bear witness to Gentiles. There is a reason I have been flying Israel’s flag below an upside-down Stars & Stripes from my pack as I walk. I’ll explain to you as I explain to folks on the road: God gave us Israel’s history in the Bible to warn the wicked and to comfort the righteous. In America, we have failed to consider Israel’s example, so now, our whole country is UPSIDE DOWN and barreling toward destruction. There is only one remedy and it the same as is was for Israel: REPENT!

Indulge me for one last story about Bibles from this recent leg. Earlier I mentioned having to walk a busy 3-mile section of US 23 near Paintsville. That 23 traffic we considered an encounter. There were two other interesting encounters while I walked that stretch near dark, and both of these involved Bibles. First, I had specifically prayed that God would give me one last divine appointment for the day, a day that had seen more than 30 encounters. It was highly unlikely on that stretch of road, but I asked the LORD nonetheless. And sure enough, I came upon a man as crazy as me, walking that same dangerous road. He had a dumbfounded look upon his face, for I definitely stood out like a sore thumb in my blinding yellow reflective shirt. I preached hard to Dustin on the side of that road. I warned him to flee the wrath to come. I spoke boldly about the refuge that can only be found in the Messiah, the Lord Jesus Christ. There were tears in his eyes as I took a Bible with out of my pack and put it into his hands. I told him, “God must really care about you Dustin, because He sent this walking preacher to preach to you; and I didn’t even intend to be on this busy highway this time of evening. In fact, I usually stay away from these busy roads.” He thanked me profusely.

A few hundred meters down the road, I stumbled upon a bright yellow grocery cart that looked like it belonged to a Dollar General. And yep, there was a DG a short ways down the road. I radioed Eric and told him to drop Bethany off so she could grab that cart and push it back to the nearby store. “Perhaps,” I said, “it will result in another good encounter for the day.” It did. One of the workers was very grateful to have that cart returned as they had a problem with some local kid stealing them. Eric explained how a walking preacher had stumbled upon it and how that resulted in him bringing it back. It was a great bridge to the Gospel. Several folks took Gospel tracts, and Grayson, the young man working there was grateful for a Bible. He didn’t have one. So ended another great day.

There you have it! ENCOUNTERS.

Please pray for us this coming week. We head out again tomorrow morning for another long leg, hoping to at least get west of I-75 in Central Kentucky. It was a blessing to have Carter Phillips from Missouri with us again for a part of this previous leg. And, it’s going to be a blessing to have Brother Ken Lightsey from California with us for this next leg. He flew into town a couple of days ago and will fly home sometime next week from the road. Gas prices have gone crazy, so our fuel budget has increased exponentially. Please continue to pray for God’s provision for those things we need, be it gas, lodging, a shower, a new pair of shoes, or just the strength and resolve to keep walking and to keep preaching. And by all means, PRAY FOR MORE ENCOUNTERS ON AMERICA’S BYWAYS. PRAY FOR REVIVAL IN AMERICA’S CHURCHES. PRAY FOR SPIRITUAL AWAKENING IN AMERICA’S PEOPLE.

Tomorrow, Lord willing, we’ll be picking up right where we left off at these very specific coordinates:

If our walk across America and these testimonies are, or have been a blessing to you, please consider financially sowing into this difficult endeavor. We have some financial needs, gas has gotten real expensive, and anything you can give is a blessing that will be used faithfully and with account. All contributions are tax-deductible, and donating online via PayPal is very easy. Thank you in Jesus’ name. Learn more . . .

It’s 1,903 miles / 1,138 encounters and counting in the spirit of watchmen upon a wall (Ezekiel 3:17),

Jesse Boyd