opportunity & importunity
Taylor County, Kentucky on a “cold winter’s night that was so deep.”
Greetings, Remnant Body of the LORD Jesus Christ, and whoever may stumble upon this brief report from a preacher’s long walk across America. It was a blessing to come back home for Thanksgiving after a 173-mile leg in Kentucky and to enjoy some rest and fellowship with family, friends, and the local church. Did you know that this November was the 400th anniversary of the first day of thanksgiving observed by our Pilgrim Fathers in 1621? Sadly, this milestone went largely unnoticed by the media and by the American Church, just as did the 400th anniversary of the first printing of the Authorized King James Bible back in 2011. Hardly a word was uttered, and these events are hardly appreciated by the Christians of today. We still reap fruit of these labors and yet take so much for granted.
In 1623, two years after the First Thanksgiving, Governor William Bradford of the Plymouth Colony issued an official proclamation for a day of thanksgiving. In this proclamation, he publicly thanked the God of the Bible for having “granted us the freedom to worship God according to the dictates of our own conscience.” Can you even imagine a governor in America today announcing such a thing on any public stage anywhere? Governor Bradford also urged those under his governing authority to GATHER and “to listen to ye pastor and render thanksgiving to ye almighty God for all his blessings.”
The freedom of conscience, my friends, comes from God, not from your government. So, it was a joy to gather with believers on the 400th anniversary of the first thanksgiving and do exactly what William Bradford exhorted the colonists at Plymouth Bay to do. We listened to some preaching and rendered thanks to the LORD for so many blessings we do not deserve. We were a room full of folks, worshipping the LORD and fellowshipping one with another as our consciences compelled us . . . and we did so WITHOUT ANY REGARD for CDC “guidance,” the hot air from that evil demon Tony Fauci, the “omicron variant,” or other “oppositions of science false so called” (I Timothy 6:20).
JOYFUL CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP IN THANKSGIVING TO GOD REALLY IS THE BEST REVENGE AGAINST THE GODLESS TYRANNY OF A NANNY STATE . . . just as it was the ultimate revenge in 1621 against the tyrants of the European homelands of our pilgrim fathers who had persecuted them and refused them the liberty to worship the LORD according to the dictates of conscience. This blessing from the LORD as articulated by King Solomon really is sweet, sweet revenge against the foes of righteousness and the enemies of the Bible-believing Christian:
"Then I commended mirth, because a man hath no better thing under the sun, than to eat, and to drink, and to be merry: for that shall abide with him of his labour the days of his life, which God giveth him under the sun" (Ecclesiastes 8:15).
I trust you too were able to commend mirth, to eat, drink and be merry in sweet fellowship and with thanksgiving to God this 400th year after the first thanksgiving in America. Our pilgrim fathers GATHERED for the first thanksgiving in spite of grave sickness that had ravaged the colony in the year since its landing at Plymouth Rock, sickness far worse than any Covid-19 variant. And yet, even today, I have walked by so many churches that remain shuttered and closed. Several weeks ago, I found myself walking at the eleven o’clock hour on a Sunday morning in the Bible Belt of Eastern Kentucky. There are churches everywhere, sometimes two or three in a small podunk mountain town. All I remember about that Sunday morning are the empty parking lots, the closed doors, and the darkened windows. How sad! It is said of those pilgrim fathers that they were “not as other men” in terms of their faith and their courage. Perhaps we, the American Church, have something in common with these. I fear we are “not as other men” also . . . but this isn’t a badge of honor as it was for those who gave us the Mayflower Compact and gathered together at the First Thanksgiving. We aren’t as other men in terms of our love of wealth and ease, our fear, and our cowardice. How badly America needs revival in her churches and spiritual awakening in her streets!
“Not as other men” can be as much a badge of dishonor as it is of honor. For the Pilgrim Fathers of 1621, honor. For us, the American Church of 2021, dishonor. Revive us, O Lord!
At the end of another long leg and with the onset of December, this is where #TheLongWalkUSA now stands:
2,208.96 total miles WALKED
1,334 total witnessing ENCOUNTERS along the byways
72 Bibles freely GIVEN
We will leave out again in the morning, Lord willing, for one more leg ahead of the Christmas holiday. We hope to get to the Mississippi River by the end of the year. We’ll see. It’s not about the miles or the calendar . . . it’s all about the Gospel encounters: WARNING of the approaching storm of God’s judgment upon America, on both Jew and Gentile, and loud proclamation of the only Shelter that can withstand that storm for both Jew & Gentile, the only remedy that has ever worked—the shed blood of the Jewish Messiah, the Lord Jesus Christ, and His glorious resurrection from the dead. Our Pilgrim Fathers knew this at Plymouth Rock. We know it today. And therefore, WE PREACH. As always, your prayers and support are much appreciated in this endeavor.
Praise God for the progress of this last leg. Praise God for the Gospel encounters, though uncharacteristically less than what we have been accustomed to in Appalachia. Praise God for the HOSPITALITY shown toward us by believers . . . the kind folks at a Baptist Institute in Oneida, Kentucky with an incredible story as to its history, a good brother and his family in Taylorsville, and another good brother down near Campbellsville. It was such a blessing to have lodging provided and the warm fellowship that came with it on cold nights! Praise God we are finally out of the mountains! Praise God for a record-setting day of 41 MILES that ended on a remote dirt road in Casey County under an incredibly gorgeous full-moon, some hours after a vicious pit-bull caught the butt of a preacher’s cross upside his jaw and some miles down the road from where we walked under the Interstate 75 boundary that divides Eastern Kentucky from the rest of the state. That felt like progress! And Praise God also for another major milestone. Finally, we got farther west than we were on August 9th when we walked out of Cherokee County, North Carolina into Polk County, Tennessee. Finally, we are farther west and heading west. In all these things, to God be the glory. So, here is the route as it now stands, a squiggly snake that will continue to squirm and squiggle as the LORD leads. Pacific Ocean or BUST . . . or the Rapture Trumpet, whatever comes first.
2,208.96 miles (Cape Hatteras, NC to Green County, KY)
I mentioned that the number of daily encounters we have lately experienced has been less than what we had become accustomed to in Appalachia. You see, when we left the mountains and came into the Bluegrass south of Louisville, a very Catholic area, 25 encounters in a day suddenly became 10 across 17 miles and then as low as 3 across another 17 miles—a rural postman who stopped me from walking into a dead end that the map showed as a throughway (Praise God for that, it would have been a long walk back out), a military veteran letting his dogs out at the Taylor County line, and two dear-in-the-headlights ladies sitting in their vehicle in the parking lot of a rural Baptist church. The very last day, before we packed up to come home for Thanksgiving, I feared it would be the first of the entire walk without a single Gospel encounter. In the last couple of miles, however, God redeemed it. There was a lady in her front yard, Billy stopped at the SAG vehicle to make sure we weren’t broken down. Both heard blunt truth and took Gospel tracts. Not a few times, it was almost comical to watch folks in Catholic country see us coming and literally scurry inside their homes as quickly as possible, sometimes peering out the window as we walked by. Once, I saw a young lady peering out her upstairs window that was barely open. As I preacher to her, she softened and said, “Hold on a minute.” She then came out into the yard, and we had a good conversation about the things of the LORD. That was near a dot on a roadmap called Gravel Switch.
I’ll never forget little places like Gravel Switch, Kentucky. Hey, I walked through there once.
Whether the encounters are many or few, the servant of the LORD must preach the Word “in season, out of season” (II Timothy 4:2). And that must involve reproving, rebuking, and exhorting with all longsuffering and doctrine. Why?
“For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables” (II Timothy 4:3).
My friends, we are most assuredly living in such a time. Moreover, we often talk about OPPORTUNITY to share the Gospel. Amen! Seeking opportunity is the “in season” part of preaching. It involves using the abilities God has given us, our talents per se, to minister truth to others (I Peter 4:11) and doing good as occasion arises (Galatians 6:10). Jude seizes on the opportunity side of preaching when he says, “And of some have compassion, making a difference” (Jude 22). Opportunity is sought out. It is seized. When someone sees me walking with my cross down a lonely highway and stops his vehicle in the middle of the road to ask if I need a ride . . . that is an OPPORTUNITY to speak the Gospel. I must seize it. When I teach martial arts or conduct a self-defense seminar for women, that is an opportunity to speak the Gospel. I must seize it. When my daughter Bethany saw a woman crying in her parked car many, many miles ago on this walk, it was an opportunity. She approached, knocked on the window, and asked this woman if she could pray for her. She seized the opportunity and the Gospel went out. Every day we walk, we are scanning the horizon for opportunity.
But, there is another side to preaching, the “out of season” part that is wholesale neglected by much of the Church in America. There is opportunity, and there is IMPORTUNITY. Opportunity is sought and seized. Importunity is MADE. Opportunity responds when a door for the Gospel opens. Importunity makes the Gospel the topic of conversation, whether a person wants to hear it or not. Jude doesn’t stop with the opportunity side of preaching (verse 22). Read verse 23, that is the importunity side: “And others save with fear, pulling themout of the fire; hating even the garment spotted by the flesh.” Jesus spoke of importunity when His disciples asked that He teach them to pray (Luke 11:5-9).
Are we seeking opportunity to share the Gospel with the lost? If so, AMEN. Praise the LORD! But, are we making importunity with the lost, in whatever we do or wherever we go, to proclaim the Gospel message? Do we simply wait for the Gospel to come up in conversation? Or are we making it the topic of conversation?
OPPORTUNITY and IMPORTUNITY are tools that every Christian witness, every preacher, has at his disposal. We have these tools given to us by the LORD. The question is: Are we using them? Are we using BOTH of them? If we live Colossians 3:23—”And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men”—we will have plenty of opportunity and plenty of importunity.
As I think upon these things, I am reminded of a stretch from this last leg when we walked through the poor little community of McKee, Kentucky: what was an epicenter of feuding families 100 years ago and an epicenter of opioid drug abuse today. It was a stretch of many encounters, before the days of few in the Bluegrass, and there was both opportunity and importunity.
The stretch through McKee and Jackson County involved both opportunity for the Gospel and importunity with the Gospel.
I was walking down Highway 89 into McKee when I saw a man searching along the side of the road. I asked him what he was looking for and explained how I had lost a pistol on the side of the road up in Menifee County, that someone had found it, and that I had picked it up at the local sheriff's office the day before. I made importunity, and asked Jimmy: “Do you have a Bible?” As it turned out, he grew up right there in Jackson County and had never once in his entire life opened a Bible. I told him God sent a preacher walking across America right down that road to put a Bible in his hands. “Jimmy,” I said, “you better open it, and you better see what it has to say if you want to escape the flood that is coming to this wicked nation of ours.” That was importunity.
Jimmy had never once opened a Bible in his entire life.
A few miles earlier, Eric and Bethany waved to a woman on her porch. She then asked about what they were doing and proceeded to open up about being battered and afraid. Suddenly, as she wept, there was opportunity. It was seized. They prayed over her and gave her a Gospel tract and a copy of Mark Cahill’s One Heartbeat Away. Tina was comforted. That was opportunity.
There were some meth-heads who got the Gospel that day (opportunity AND importunity). And then there was Ashley, who was hauling a truckload of aluminum cans to the local recycle center. He stopped to offer me a ride. I said, “Friend, I’d love a ride, but I’m afraid that would be cheating. You see, I’m a preacher walking across America, and I told the Lord I would walk. So, I wouldn’t want to be unfaithful in that.” He then insisted that I let him ride back into town and get me some lunch. He did and came to find me as I was still plodding down US 421 east of McKee. I was real hungry and walked in the strength of that meal until well after dark. He also insisted I take some cash and get another meal later on him. Earlier, we had seen an old house flying a Confederate flag on Turkey Foot Rd, and I was bummed that no one was home with whom we could make IMPORTUNITY. As it turned out, that was Ashley’s place. He flies Old Dixie and showed himself very kind to strangers. God bless him! People have been telling lies about that flag and the people who fly it for more than 160 years now. Stop believing everything the known liars say to us on the TV! Anyway, we couldn’t make importunity with Ashley at his home when we walked by, but later God gave us opportunity way on down the road as he drove by in his truck.
Ashley was very kind to a walking preacher.
Not long thereafter, we wanted to cut across some private property, so I seized the opportunity and knocked on the door of a nearby house to inquire about permission. Mr. Van Winkle was obliged to offer it, and when I then made the Gospel a topic of conversation, it was me who walked away blessed. Mr. Van Winkle articulated something about his faith that would go way over the heads of a lot of stuffed-shirt seminary-educated “pastors” who spew their little ditties about “hoping and coping” on Sunday mornings and who care more about whether or not their church members “get their shot” then whether or not they are right with God. Mr. Van Winkle said, “I’m not afraid to die. I’VE BEEN PAID FOR.” Amen! What a way to say what it is to be a Christian. I’M PAID FOR! Hallelujah, we can be paid for. And if we are paid for, we ought to seek opportunity and make importunity to tell others how they too can be paid for.
Mr. Van Winkle has been paid for. I’m paid for. Are you?
Before I sign off, there was one last encounter we stumbled upon that gave me great joy. When we left North Carolina on a Tuesday to drive up and get this recent leg started back in Jackson County, we had to first go up to the Menifee County Sheriff in Frenchburg (1.5 hours north) to reclaim the pistol I had lost somewhere on Tar Ridge Road two weeks earlier. A lady had found it and turned it into that office. So, it was a long day of driving that left us with no time to walk before it got dark at 5:30pm, very frustrating. Yet, that ultimately proved a blessing that made losing the gun and the hassle of going to reclaim it a truly memorable moment on this long walk across America. Leaving Frenchburg with my pistol back in hand, and having given Gospel tracts to the kind deputies inside the sheriff’s office, we gave up on trying to bag a few miles. It was simply too late. As we headed back to our lodging in Oneida for the night, I suddenly saw $2.99/gallon gas and made a quick turn into this run-down station to fill up. If I see gas under $3, I’m going to get it. I never guessed that I would walk into that store in podunk backwoods Kentucky and have an opportunity to preach Christ in the Nepali language. Praise God I had a copy of the Gospel of John in Nepali that I had helped to translate and print in Kathmandu years ago. I gave it to this Bishnu, along with one of my Christian Brother Bishnu’s “Perfect Sacrifice” Gospel tracts. I told this Bishnu that I would be telling another Bishnu, my dear friend in Kathmandu, about our encounter. I get excited when the Lord puts a lost sheep of Israel into my path. I get equally stoked when it is a Gentile from Nepal, a land that I love. I haven’t spoken Nepali in a long, long time. It was amazing how it just came right out. I guess you could say I spoke in tongues. Praise God for a lost pistol that put us into this man’s path. He was so happy to meet someone who loved his people enough to learn their language. May that happiness open his heart to the Gospel of the Messiah that we preach.
I lost something, had to drive way out of the way to get it back, and was then blessed to find Ben (Bishnu) from Pokhara, Nepal in my path.
That’s how this most recent leg got started. And before it was over, we would also share the Gospel with two different men from India, a motel manager and a gas station manager. Speaking to these folks in Hindi always catches them by surprise. Both Sonny and Bobby took a Bible after we shared with them about some of our adventures in their homeland and of our love for the curry and spices of the Subcontinent. So, was that opportunity or importunity? I’m not sure, but the Gospel went out.
We covet your prayers these next two weeks. It’s a long drive to get back to where we stopped walking. It’s cold these days. The folks of Western Kentucky aren’t as friendly as the folks of Eastern Kentucky, and it sure would be nice to cross the Mississippi River, or at least get close to it, before Christmas. The LORD knoweth.
We’ll be taking the cross back from these very specific coordinates:
If this long walk across America and these testimonies are, or have been a blessing to you, please consider financially sowing into this difficult endeavor. We have financial needs, gas is expensive, and anything you can share 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 2,208 miles / 1,334 encounters and counting in the spirit of watchmen upon a wall (Ezekiel 3:17),
Jesse Boyd