Kind strangers have offered me a lot of things along the first 660 miles of The Long Walk, but I never thought one of them would be a soothing foot soak. What a blessing!

Back before iTunes and the iPhone, I carried around in my car a ridiculously large case of CDs with all my favorite music. I guess it wasn’t all that safe for me to be flipping through that thing while driving, but I did it many times. There was a 2-CD set in that mess of compact discs that featured live performances of Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young taken from three concerts in 1970, the 4-Way Street album. As a young man, I loved these guys’ voices when they sang together and considered them a most unique harmonized sound Between songs on that 4-Way Street record, there is some lighthearted bantering between band members, and at one point, I believe it is Steven Stills who says: “I’m not sure what sort of mood David is in, but whatever happens is going to be whatever happens.” David Crosby then replies, “Those are true words of wisdom there,” and Stills retorts “SHEER PROFUNDITY.” It’s all somewhat asinine, but something about the retort SHEER PROFUNDITY caught my attention the first time I heard it as a teenager, and it has stuck with me ever since. I think of it when confronted with something that is simultaneously both facile and profound, kind of like “whatever happens is going to be whatever happens.” And there’s both the good sort of sheer profundity and the bad sort.

If I were to sum up the last two weeks of our long walk across America, SHEER PROFUNDITY would certainly be appropriate. And, I describe it so while contemplating some things that were spoken to me by Christian folks at different points on the side of the road. At least of those testimonies compelled me to rejoin SHEER PROFUNDITY and shake my head in sad disgust. Another two compelled me to declare SHEER PROFUNDITY and nod my head with accord and affirmation.

Before I better explain myself, however, here is a snapshot of what our route across North Carolina looked like Monday morning of last week, followed by what it looked like when we walked into the parking lot of my martial arts dojo in downtown Hickory just yesterday.

By God’s abundant grace, we slogged 112 miles last week and another 61 this week; we crossed 10 county lines; and we caught our first glimpse of the Appalachian Mountains. More importantly, we had 97 Gospel encounters in the highways and hedges and gave away 5 Bibles, four in English and one in Spanish. On Monday and Tuesday of last week, we enjoyed a caravan of Christian young people who came alongside for some miles. On Wednesday of last week, I stumbled upon an old friend I hadn’t seen in more than 20 years. He just saw me walking down US 52 in Rowan County and somehow knew it was me. On Thursday of last week, a kind stranger came out of his field while bailing hay to offer me respite in his shaded rocking chair along with a giant glass of homemade iced tea and a piece of his wife’s custard pie made with fresh strawberries from their garden. On Friday of last week, a man slowed down and asked me if I would like some good well water. I replied, “Sure,” and he said “Go to the first trailer on the left with the black mailbox.” I was greeted with another chair in the shade, good well water, and two buckets of hot water for a foot soak. That soak and the ointment he gave for me to rub all over my feet got me to the 600-mile mark late that afternoon in northwest Iredell County. Kind strangers have offered me a lot of things along the first 660 miles of The Long Walk, but I never thought one of them would be a soothing foot soak. Sheer profundity!

It wasn’t just strawberry custard pie. These kind strangers in Rowan County also brought out a scooping of fresh homemade strawberry shortcake to go along with the iced tea.

Tuesday of this week, I witnessed to a man in an obscure spot called Love Valley, the very place where my grandfather as a NC highway patrol commander was in charge of keeping law and order during the rowdy festivals that took place there in the 1970s. In fact, the Hells Angels motorcycle gang respected him so much for his guts to stand up to them and for his fair consistency even in the midst of rowdy chaos that they gifted him with a table leg they had fashioned for a weapon. They said, “You are as tough, straight, and fair as this table leg.” We use that table leg in our martial arts dojo to this day as a training weapon. I told a utility worker of this story right there in the middle of the dirt main street of Love Valley, lined with old buildings and saloons that are mostly closed. We talked for more than an hour, and he was very grateful to receive a small New Testament to keep with him in his work truck. Jason did say something to me that I found very humbling. I mentioned that we had gone to the US Capitol on January 6th to preach against the sins of this wicked nation and to call men to repentance. He replied very matter-of-fact: “Thank you for your service to our country.” Sheer Profundity!

Wednesday of this week, we literally crossed over the Brushy Mountain range via Cove Gap into Wilkes County only to have to turn around and walk back over the Brushies into Alexander County via NC Hwy 16. I asked myself in that sweltering heat, “Why?” Sheer Profundity!

And just yesterday, it was a short leg, a little less than 11 miles, but we crossed the Catawba River and came into Catawba County, our home, and into the City of Hickory. It was hard to believe. In familiar territory, we amazingly had one of our most fruitful days, 22 Gospel encounters; and we had two good brothers join us for the duration. We stopped into a few local establishments to greet folks I know, some of them unbelievers. And by God’s grace, it was the perfect opportunity to testify of Christ and to give out some Gospel tracts. One young man kept his coffee bus open a little longer than normal so we could have time to walk up and take a break with a cold brew. Heretofore, we had never had an opportunity to give him a tract. That changed yesterday. Also, a nearby store manager I have known for years saw our testimony and gave us a standing 40% employee discount on anything we will need for this long walk. Walking up busy 127 during the afternoon rush was a lot of fun, and we were blessed to hear many honks of encouragement. You know, Jesus was without honor in His own home town of Nazareth, and that is usually par for the course (Matthew 13:57). Yesterday, however, we experienced the opposite by the mercy of the Lord. Around 6:30pm, we walked up on our martial arts dojo just in time for class. The walking odometer read 661 miles. I guess it can now be said that three black belts walked 661 miles to class and got there in time. Sheer profundity!

Once again, we haven’t had to camp. Every night of these past two weeks, we were blessed with a place to stay and a home-cooked meal, the kind hospitality of old friends and dear brethren in Christ. We are close enough now that we can just sleep in our own beds at night.

So, it has been 661.3 total miles with 392 Gospel encounters and 22 copies of the Scriptures freely distributed. The Lord is good, and your prayers have been much appreciated.

Twice last week, I heard the same sad testimony from Christian folks I encountered along the way. These folks weren’t related and wouldn’t know each other from Adam. Both shared that the pastor of their own local church suddenly quit during the Covid hysteria because he was “scared to death of dying.” These men just walked away from the pastorate and their flocks, and one of these fellowships is still without a shepherd. As I listened to each of these stories, I could only think “SHEER PROFUNDITY” and shake my head in sad disgust. A pastor is supposed to be a SHEPHERD; that’s what the word literally means. I think of David the shepherd boy who didn’t think of himself when the lion or the bear threatened his sheep. He thought of his flock and acted on its behalf:

“And David said unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father's sheep, and there came a lion, and a bear, and took a lamb out of the flock: And I went out after him, and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him” (I Samuel 17:34-35).

I don’t know who these two pastors are, and I am sure there are many more just like them. All of these are in big trouble with the LORD because they pursued a career in ministry instead of obeying a call. Imagine that, a Christian pastor is “scared to death” of going to heaven? Perhaps he knows that ain’t where he is heading and is actually “scared to death” of the fires of hell, for such an one is really an unrepentant charlatan exposed BY a virus with a 99.7% survival rate instead of TO it. It is the wicked who “flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are bold as a lion” (Proverbs 28:1). A pastor who walks with the LORD has answered a call from the LORD. A pastor who walks with Cain and Balaam makes a comfortable career for himself in the ministry. Ah yes, the way of Cain, the father of all manmade religion. I actually preached a message about this more than ten years ago, and surprisingly, I still have that recording. You can link to it here: Beware the Way of Cain (Genesis 4:1-10). You can also listen to it on Apple Podcasts. Sheer profundity!

Look folks, I’m not only a prophet of doom. I’m also preacher of love, and I wouldn’t tell you of SHEER PROFUNDITY while shaking my head in disgust if I couldn’t also tell you of SHEER PROFUNDITY to lift your spirits. There were two other testimonies I heard last week while talking to different folks along the side of the road. And both of these were encounters that resulted only by the Divine Hand of Providence.

I had no plans to walk the road I was walking on the morning of May 19th, and it went against my “better judgment” because of the narrow shoulder and constant traffic, but I’m amazed by the Hand of Providence that guided me nonetheless to walk that 3-mile stretch of US Hwy 52 due west from the strange little community of Gold Hill. A big black truck approached and suddenly came to a halt right beside me. The driver rolled down the window and exclaimed, “You’re Jesse Boyd.” It took a moment, but I recognized him as an old friend from my college days that I hadn’t seen since he was a groomsman in my wedding nearly 24 years ago. We had lost touch long ago, and the last I heard he had been living somewhere in the Midwest. I have no clue how a guy can recognize in a split second someone they haven’t seen in more than two decades, especially considering my unkempt appearance at the time. Sheer Profundity! We were both immensely encouraged and edified in those moments to discover that we remain of like faith and like mind, and that we both continue to serve the Lord in the midst of this crooked and perverse generation. It was such a sweet blessing from the Lord on a morning when I was struggling to put one foot in front of another. Matt and I stood on the side of the highway and fellowshipped together for more than an hour that day, and while doing so, a Christian brother rode up on his Harley with a bag of lunch and a cold drink he had picked up for me. He had also seen me toiling with the cross on that same stretch of US 52.

The LORD reconnected me with an old, old friend to encourage and lift my spirits. And it happened when I decided against “my better judgment” to walk a busy stretch of highway in Rowan County. Sheer profundity!

More profound than even our meeting was something my old friend with whom I had shared many college adventures spoke as we were standing there on the roadside. We talked of the sad state of the American Church, and he likened what has happened in and through the Covid mess to a long-distance bicycle race. At the beginning, there is a giant mass of riders with little room to maneuver and people drafting off of each other for advantage. However, when the route starts climbing into the mountains, that mass quickly starts to dissolve, and what remains is what they call “the Selection,” the real riders who actually have what it takes to finish the race or even to win. Before the Covid chaos, the government tyranny, and all social justice garbage of the past year, there were a mass of professing Christians in America living and riding at ease, maneuvering for advantage and drafting off of others. But when the trials came and it actually started to cost something to take a stand for what is true and right, the professing mass faded into the background, and what has emerged is a “Selection,” or should I say a Remnant Body of THE ELECTION. And, it is through this Remnant Body, purged of the dross and fake Churchianity, that God can do a mighty work. I said it many months ago, and I stand by these words: Covid has EXPOSED more hearts in the American Churches than it has INFECTED bodies. And, my friend’s illustration was a powerful way of affirming this, an illustration I could appreciate because I had experienced it. In fact, God used my experience in a bicycle race to convict me to ride across America and preach the Gospel nearly two decades ago.

I very much remember that hot day at Badwater in Death Valley, California. It was over 100-degrees, and the starting line was at the lowest elevation in North America, 282 ft. BELOW sea level. The finish line was 157-miles northwest at the 9,000 ft. trailhead for Mt. Whitney, the highest mountain in the Continental United States. The first 20 miles were a pain, as I found myself caught in a mass of riders, all with intentions of finishing, and everyone pushing for position and drafting off of the exertion of others. Those early miles were pretty flat, but I hated them. However, things really started thinning out by Stovepipe Wells as the route climbed for 17 straight miles up to the 5,000 ft. Townes Pass. Suddenly, I found myself alone, and the mass of riders had disappeared. Now granted, there were folks way ahead of me, and I hadn’t trained for that race to win. I had trained to finish and was intent upon doing so. It got dark at the top of Townes Pass, and I longed for a little company, so I waited for two friends who weren’t that far behind. We decided to stay together and push each other the rest of the way. At 10:30am the next morning, we crossed the finish line together. The interesting thing is that we never saw any more riders after we joined up on the first of three high passes. Those last 90 miles or so, we were pretty much alone. The following afternoon, there was a celebration picnic at the city park in Bishop, California. All who finished the race were given medals. I was shocked to see how few out of that original mass of riders actually finished. My two friends and I got those medals; I have mine to this day. We were part of The Selection who finished the race. We didn’t win, but we finished. We endured to the end. And once we got out of the mass of posers, we found the strength to endure the trials ahead.

I still have my FINISHER medal and my number from that Whitney Classic race in 2002.

I continued walking down US Hwy 52 after that rendezvous with my old friend and found myself meditating upon the powerful illustration he had used in our conversation. There is the Professing Church in America, and then there is the Select Church in America, the Remnant Body of genuine believers. Many of those who profess are posers who will bow out of the race. But, those the LORD will use in the darkest of times will most certainly finish the race, enduring unto the end. Let’s be FINISHERS, my friends, not posers. As for me, I want to “finish my course” (II Timothy 4:7), and I gotta finish this walk across America. The finish line is many thousands of miles away. Sheer profundity! But with the LORD’s help and your prayers, I will endure.

There was another great testimony I heard last week that also had me walking away and saying to myself, “Sheer profundity!” Since we crossed I-40 way back in Duplin County many weeks ago, it has been our practice to stop on such interstate overpasses for a few minutes while holding aloft the cross for those driving past to see. Sometimes, I will just stand there until I hear at least five honks of affirmation. A guy has to do something to occasionally escape the doldrums of putting one foot in front of another. Last week, we had the privilege of crossing I-85, I-40 again, and I-77; and on each of these overpasses, we just stood there for a bit hoisting aloft the cross. On the I-77 bridge, a lady drove up and asked what I was doing. When I explained, I discovered that she, too, was a believer and that what she was seeing and hearing had made her day. As I asked her about her testimony, she said something very profound. Jessica spoke of how she “said the words” as a child, but later, “God woke me up.” Isn’t that exactly what true salvation in Jesus Christ is! God wakes us up through Christ. He opens our eyes. And when He does, we then have everything we need to finish the race and endure until the end. As this sister described her salvation so powerfully and succinctly on the I-77 overpass, she probably had no idea that a seasoned preacher would walk away from that encounter and find himself marveling over that simple and amazing truth the rest of the afternoon, so much so that he found strength to walk many more miles that very hot day. From the belly of the great fish, Jonah cried a simple phrase we would do well to remember: “Salvation is of the LORD” (Jonah 2:9). He must open our eyes for us to see the Truth. He must wake us up. He woke me up when I was 17 years old and lost in my sin and iniquity. And the proof of that is that by His grace, I am still running that race today, all these many years later. Sheer profundity!

Pausing on I-40 at the Iredell County line to hoist aloft the cross and a dire warning of distress (i.e. the inverted American flag)

How about you? What is your story? Are you still running?

Eric Trent penned this little testimony concerning last week’s leg from the Cottonville Crossroads in Stanley County all the way up to Brookhaven Road in Iredell County. I thought his words would provide a little different perspective:

Another week of walking across America and preaching repentance and faith in Jesus Christ is in the books! It’s a great privilege to take part in this chapter of ministry and come alongside Jesse and Bethany Boyd as they continue their walking journey across the United States. This week we finished in Iredell County, roughly an hour’s drive from where we live. It feels great to be getting close to home. These several days on the road unveiled many unique encounters for the Gospel. Several Bibles were given out, and even more Gospel tracts were distributed!

One afternoon, we stopped to speak with a family that was cutting down a large tree branch in their front yard. The father’s name was TJ. He and I spoke while a few of his sons eavesdropped. It was a good opportunity to speak of the great and terrible judgment coming to America from Almighty God. And in those moments, the precious truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ always falls upon listening ears. We even talked with his daughter, Brianna, who was a two-time cancer survivor. She gladly received a Gospel tract before we left.

As we neared the small unincorporated community of Needmore, we came upon a house that had a unique and rare flag flying in the wind. It was the official headquarters flag of General Robert E. Lee. We walked up and knocked on the owner’s door (the porch was so broken down I almost fell through it). Crystal and Buddy walked outside and were curious and slightly suspicious as to the identity of these strange visitors. I quickly explained how encouraged we were to see that old flag. If America had RIGHTEOUS GOD-FEARING MEN like General Lee in leadership today, things would be much different. An interesting fact I mentioned regarding that flag is the shape of the stars against the blue backdrop. They are arranged in the shape of a loaf of bread to symbolize Jesus Christ, the Bread of Life. This gave me an easy bridge into the Gospel with these folks. I told them that conservatives and patriots need to stop looking to politicians to save the nation and look to the only One who can, Jesus the Bread of Life! The funniest part to this encounter is that Jesse radioed me and gave me a brief history lesson on this flag just a few minutes before Bethany and I walked up to speak with them.

Buddy & Crystal with their Robert E. Lee Headquarters Flag

On Friday, we passed through the small town of Harmony in Iredell County. It felt great to be getting closer and closer to Catawba County. As we entered the community, Bethany and I noticed a guy polishing up an old vehicle. I walked up and broke the ice saying, “Man, your ride is looking great!” He mumbled back, “Nah, it don’t look that good.” Well, that at least got us conversing. Phillip confessed that he believed in God and simply tries his best to do good each and every day. He had no real hope of salvation. Our “best” in God’s eyes, my friends, is altogether vanity (Psalm 39:5). I explained to Phillip that we will never be righteous in the sight of God by our own righteousness. The only righteousness we could ever bring to God is by repentance and faith in Jesus Christ who fulfilled the righteous demands of God’s Law (II Corinthians 5:21). I offered Phillip a nice leather-backed Bible and a Gospel tract to keep with him at his workplace. He was very grateful, and we walked away rejoicing over another divine appointment!

Every week is different on this long walk across America. The encounters I just shared merely scratch the surface of all the opportunities we are given to speak truth to folks along the rural highways and hedges of this country. Please pray for us as this work continues.

My friends, like the writer of Hebrews at the end of his catalogue of great heroes of the faith, time would fail me to talk of Fox Mountain, Ramie Mitchell Road, the little community of Vashti, Alexander County dirt roads, Devils Track, the Bethlehem Star, and the Hickory City Sewage Plant . . . all spots along our route where I could pause to remark with a very joyful and contemplative tone: SHEER PROFUNDITY!

The next couple of weeks, we will be in and around Catawba County, perhaps walking east just to go west, if that makes any sense. We literally want to comb our entire home county, from one side to another and from top to bottom . . . Hickory, Longview, Newton, Conover, Claremont, Catawba, Sherrills Ford, Maiden, Vale and many points in between. Hey, if I can’t be a bold witness in my own Jerusalem, how can I be so in Judea, Samaria, or at the uttermost part of the earth (Acts 1:8)? I like how Eric says it: “It’s better to just wander around, not aimlessly, but in a general direction.” Our general direction is west, but we are going to wander a bit and preach. Your prayers and support are most appreciated.

If this walk across America and these testimonies are, or have been a blessing to you, please consider financially supporting our ministry to the Jew first and also to the Gentile. Anything you can give is a blessing that will be used faithfully and with account. All contributions are tax-deductible, and donating online is very easy. Thank you in Jesus’ name.

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I don’t know anything about this church I passed yesterday, but what I do know is that I have never in my entire life heard a sermon preached from the little Epistle of II John. This book is so appropriate for these days, written to a Remnant local church body dwelling in the midst of great apostasy, just like the Remnant local churches of the Lord Jesus Christ in America today. I applaud the pastor of this fellowship for preaching a message from II John.

Praise God for a preacher who will preach from II John.

Look to yourselves, that we lose not those things which we have wrought, but that we receive a full reward (II John 8).

In other words, let’s look to ourselves and make sure that we don’t fade out like most of the riders in the mass that typically begins a bicycle race. Let’s be in the selection and finish this race.

Sheer Profundity,

Jesse Boyd