way out of the way

Greetings, beloved brethren, in the name of the LORD Jesus Christ. He IS the Messiah of Israel and the Saviour of the Gentiles (Isaiah 49:6). Our long walk across America in obedience to the LORD continues, and will so, God willing, for quite some time. My last update, Ode to a Stumble, was on April 27th; and since, we have really covered some distance. For the moment, we have walked 488.94 total miles across North Carolina from Cape Hatteras, and definitely NOT in a straight line. Over the past couple weeks, we have had 43 Gospel encounters in the highways and hedges (nearly 300 encounters overall), and for that, we praise God. Thank you for your prayers.

Looking at how the route has lately taken shape, one might say we have gone WAY OUT OF THE WAY. But, when hoofing across a continent, what is way out of the way? What does that even mean? If you have to walk several thousand miles anyway, what’s an extra 10 miles? 50 miles? or even 100 miles here and there?

This is how The Long Walk has taken shape over the past few weeks.

Note the giant grotesque parabola in the route. What is that all about? Well, our GOAL is to walk from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean, literally across America, but that is not our PURPOSE. Our purpose is to be watchmen (Ezekiel 3:17), to call men to repentance and to warn them that AMERICA IS IN BIG TROUBLE WITH GOD, that judgment is coming (Isaiah 58:1). Our purpose is to preach in the highways and hedges Jesus the Messiah crucified, buried, and resurrected as the only hope for AmeriCANS living in an AmeriCA that is wicked as hell and doomed to perish (I Corinthians 1:23). Our purpose is to preach to and pray for our nation in obedience to the Lord, and to declare openly from sea to shining sea that a SPIRITUAL AWAKENING from the hand of God is the only spiritual remedy for a great big spiritual problem. We must “Go ye therefore into the highways, and as many as ye shall find, bid to the marriage” (Matthew 22:19). God has brought great spiritual awakening to America before, and every time, it began with hellfire and brimstone warning and preaching that called men to repentance and faith in Christ. Can He not do it again? Can He not give us respite and even a brief period of revival ahead of the destruction, just like He did for the Kingdom of Judah under the short reign of Josiah, before it all went to hell? He certainly doesn’t have to; He certainly doesn’t need to; but He certainly is able. So, to be true to our purpose while pressing toward our goal, we must, by default, cast the “shortest distance between two points is a straight line” policy out the window.

While walking generally west from Robeson County, the poorest county in North Carolina, just a few weeks ago, the Lord reminded me of something as I was praying and meditating upon SPIRITUAL AWAKENING as the only remedy for our nation. He reminded me of things I used to teach concerning America’s First Great Awakening (roughly 1725-1760) during my brief stint as a high school history teacher. I recalled that the Awakening in the South began on the banks of Sandy Creek not far southeast of present-day Greensboro in Central North Carolina. It was on Sandy Creek in 1755 that a Baptist preacher from Connecticut, Shubal Stearns, and his family planted a church. Sixteen people covenanted together, mostly relatives of the preacher who had been saved some years before while listening to the preaching of George Whitfield. The renowned Jonathan Edwards once described the First Great Awakening as “a surprising work of God,” and what happened at Sandy Creek in the South was indeed just that. Within a very short period of time, this Baptist church of 16 people grew to more than 600. Back when Central North Carolina was considered frontier territory, that’s considerable. And such growth didn’t result from programs, social distancing, mealy-mouthed preaching, or grand manmade strategies. Elder Stearns was known for preaching hellfire and brimstone with a strong emphasis on “YE MUST BE BORN AGAIN!” God did an amazing work. From Sandy Creek, numerous missionaries were sent out who planted churches and the fruit of that revival was literally thousands of Baptist churches across the South, from southern Georgia all the way to the Mississippi River. The Sandy Creek Association of churches grew so large in successive years that it had to split, not a “split” in the sense of some folks getting their panties in a wad over a personal affront and then calling it doctrinal heresy, but a split that was the Great Commission as it should be: DIVIDE AND MULTIPLY. To this day, every indigenous Baptist Church in the South can trace its spiritual heritage to the hellfire and brimstone preaching of Shubal Stearns and the mighty work that God did on Sandy Creek beginning in 1755.

At Sandy Creek, the 1802 Meeting House still stands. On a nearby marker, it is inscribed: “There are today thousands of Baptist Churches as the result of the labours of Shubal Stearns and the Sandy Creek Baptist Church.”

Ambling west from Robeson County, I thought about Sandy Creek and wondered that I had never taken time to visit that site. I had been praying for a Spiritual Awakening in America like the First Great Awakening. Why not walk through that holy ground where such a thing once took place? Why not go to the very spot where God once did the very thing I was praying for and ask Him to do it again? So, we turned north and walked many miles to get to that place. At the top-right of that parabola in the route, we turned west onto Sandy Creek Road. And my friends, it was holy ground. I almost felt compelled to take off my shoes like Moses in Exodus 3:5. We spent some time in the area. The original church building is gone, but the second house erected in 1802 remains. The creek is mostly dry, but there is a present-day assembly just down the hill, and in the graveyard is buried Preacher Stearns. I had the privilege of meeting the pastor of the present-day Sandy Creek Baptist Church and his wife. They were in the office and very kind to let us spend a little time on the grounds. We actually discovered that we had gone to seminary together at Southeastern Baptist back in the late 1990’s. We both shared a love of history and what God had done in that place. And it amazed me that even today, more than 250 years later, there is still an active church on that spot where the same Gospel is preached.

Shubal Stearns is buried here.

Our crew spent time praying for spiritual awakening in America inside the old 1802 meeting house. I stood behind the old pulpit and spread my hands toward heaven as did Solomon at the dedication of the First Temple, and we cried out to the Lord to do another “surprising work of God,” to bring down our wicked government, to revive the church, and to grant us the only spiritual remedy for our great big spiritual problem. It was special and well worth the nearly 95 miles of walking way out of the way to get there. Along that 95 miles walking due north, we had over 40 Gospel encounters in the highways and hedges, and at least 6 copies of God’s Word went into the hands of folks who needed it. I think of the words of William Borden scribbled inside the back cover of his Bible, the subject of the very first missionary biography I ever read, given to me by my late grandmother: “No Reserves. No Retreats. No Regrets.” I won’t get into the greater context of those words, but it is humbling and convicting. Where are the Bordens of Yale today? If you don’t know the story, it’s well worth looking more into it.

Anyway, I posted a video of our time of prayer at Sandy Creek. I encourage you to watch and likewise pray for our nation, for a spiritual awakening.

From Sandy Creek Baptist Church, we walked generally west again and ended up traversing a long road through some hollows that reminded me of the remotest corners of West Virginia. I’ll never forget Kidds Mill Drive. I thought for a few moments that revival like that of Sandy Creek was going to break out as we walked through there preaching late in the afternoon. We had multiple encounters, many took tracts, and many confessed that our nation was in trouble with the LORD. One woman was on her way to church and was overcome. She returned and promised to have her church praying that night. Another gentleman chased me down on a bicycle to stick some money in my pocket as I walked. “Get you something to drink and to eat with that so you have the strength to keep it up,” he cried and then pedaled away. Then, there was a family who saw us on that road and then went out in their car later to find us. They just wanted to know what was happening. We shared the Gospel at the Grays Chapel crossroads and exhorted them to get their daughter out of the public school and to homeschool her. They had been wrestling with that. It was a good divine appointment. I’ll never forget Kidds Mill Drive, and how fitting it was just after we left that holy ground on Sandy Creek.

Now, what do I mean by holy ground? I’m certainly not speaking in the sense of all the delusional folks who kiss stones and lay iPhones at the foot of shrines at all the ridiculous Catholic sites in Jerusalem, most of which aren’t even authentic. I’m speaking in the sense of the DIAMETRIC OPPOSITE of what I have experienced in spiritually dark places around the world: inside the Buddhist monasteries of Ladakh, at the Temple of Khali in Calcutta, in Tiananman Square where I once preached in the open-air, inside the gutted-out buildings of the Tuol Sleng concentration camp in Cambodia, or in the Muslim shantytowns of South Dhaka in Bangladesh, to name a few. If you want to know what that feels like, where all emotion but a spiritual despair seems to suddenly dissipate, just drive to within a 100-mile radius of Washington, DC. You will know exactly what I am talking about, spiritual darkness. What I encountered along Sandy Creek was the OPPOSITE of that, the diametric opposite. Despair, fatigue, and cynicism seemed to disappear. It was holy ground, not because of the ground or the buildings, or the tombs of old saints . . . but because of the work that God did in that place more than 250 years ago. That spirit remains to this day.

So, the route continued west again through the traffic circles of Randleman, where we found opportunity to preach open-air as kids were getting out of school. We lit the place up with the same type of preaching Shubal Stearns once preached to light up the valley along Sandy Creek. One young man took a Bible, and many honked their horns in gratitude. Some agitated folks started filming us with their phones and obviously called the police. Oh, the police showed up alright, but they just drove around the circle and kept on going. God gave us great favor. But the route from there didn’t continue west toward the Pacific Ocean, it suddenly turned south again and would continue 83 miles in that direction nearly to the same latitude where we had turned north from Robeson County some time before. To have walked from where we turned north straight to the point where we ended last week in Stanly County would have been less than 50 miles. Instead, it turned into 191 miles, WAY OUT OF THE WAY. Again: no reserves, no retreats, no regrets.

Open-air Preaching at the Traffic Circle in Randleman, NC

We turned south again simply because I wanted to re-visit an area where I have fond memories as a child and where I spent the summer before I got married to my lovely wife almost 24 years ago. Along that route lies Camp Caraway, a Baptist boys camp that started back in 1963. I went there as a camper many summers as a child, and there I had fun doing a lot of things boys love to do in the outdoors. But what I remember most is that at Camp Caraway I heard the Gospel. There, the LORD convicted me. Years later, those seeds would sprout when I finally humbled myself, repented of my fake Christianity, and truly trusted Christ.

I have a special memory from one of my first summers at Caraway when I was nine or ten years old. There was a counselor, a big strong guy with a beard, who took his guitar and very humbly sang to us during a time of devotion a special song by David Meece that I have never forgotten. To this day, We Are The Reason from the 1980 Are You Ready? album is one of my favorites. Thank you big strong guy with a beard!

It was also at Camp Caraway that I was introduced to one of my favorite songs by Keith Green, Altar Call, and not the live version commonly found on today’s collection albums. It was the original recorded version from the 1978 No Compromise album. On Friday nights, we would all go to the outdoor chapel and hear the Gospel clearly proclaimed one final time. Then, the service ended with a recording of Keith singing that song. It was the same when I served as a counselor at Caraway during the summer of 1997.

Yes, I remember those special times and the hours I spent that summer declaring biblical truth to many young boys those Friday nights after that service, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. I still remember some of the names of boys that God was dealing with and gave me the privilege to lead to Christ: Rob, Ryan, Jeff, David, Chris, Marc, Travis, Michael, Jamon, Chad, etc. Yep, Camp Caraway is a special place to me. So, why not walk there, hike the entire Uwharrie National Trail and then end up at a spot where I could have gotten to in a fourth of the distance if my purpose was simply to walk to the Pacific Ocean?

I was one who heard the Gospel in this outdoor chapel as a young boy.

Last week, the kind present-day director of Camp Caraway put Eric, Bethany, and I up on the grounds in some comfortable missionary quarters. I think he was a camper when I was a counselor there. We were able to use the place as a base or the whole week, and it was a huge blessing. There was spiritual medicine and strengthening in re-visiting the old cabins, that outdoor chapel, and even the woods around Old Caraway and Slick Rock that were frightening to me as a child and ok, I admit, even as a counselor. In fact, we left Caraway Mountain Road on our walk and took the route up and over Slick Rock and Old Caraway late one stormy afternoon. On the banks of a creepy old pond that has always been there, we watched a storm roll in. I chuckled at my childhood fears and yet was also soberly reminded that we definitely “wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places” (Ephesians 6:12).

Yerba Mate from Argentina up on Slick Rock

This old “Posted-Stay Out” cabin was up there at Old Caraway when I was a kid. I couldn’t believe it is still there. It gave us some nice shelter from the rain.

This old pond is still creepy. We dubbed it Sinister Pond.

After a long walk, parts of it in the rain, I remember Eric, Bethany, and I staying up real late in what was once the old canteen, now a staff lounge. It had some ping-pong tables, and I taught my walking pards how to play. I was even tempted to tell my daughter what my dad once told me: “If you ever beat me in ping-pong, I will buy you a new car.” I never beat him, and I couldn’t do so today. He was very, very good. But, I hesitated where Bethany is concerned. She is driven, and I would be buying her a new car sooner or later :) On the walls around the ping-pong tables are staff photos from every year going back to the early 1970s. Yep, I found myself on the wall.

1997 Camp Caraway Staff

Camp Caraway: good times as a kid, good times my last summer as a single young man, and good times as a crazy old preacher with a teenage daughter walking across America. I’m so thankful for Camp Caraway, and for the kind hospitality that was rendered to us along our long walk last week. It was well worth the extra miles walked back south. You know, we have only had to camp one night along this entire journey, a cold blustery night on Ocracoke Island. The Lord has provided lodging every other night, and a whole lot of good fellowship in these places. Glory to God.

You know what, I still remember the Caraway fight song. Every morning before breakfast, we would gather at the flag pole for prayer and the cabin that then shouted the fight song loudest and best would get to go in to eat first. I esteemed the words lightly back in the day, but these days, they seem sober and serious. Where are the men and boys today we were once calling for? Where are those who will share Christ at work or in play? More than ever, America needs Christian men and boys to step up to the plate and be ambassadors for Christ, unfazed and unafraid by the tyrannies of man.

God is calling out ambassadors today.
Calling men and boys to witness on their way.
Men and boys to spread His Word who aren’t ashamed to say that,
We are royal ambassadors for Christ.
We’re royal, royal, ambassadors, ambassadors, ambassadors for Christ.
We’ll follow, follow, our Lord and King, our Lord and King, wherever He may lead.
We’ll share the good news of Christ today, Christ today,
Witness in our work and play, work and play.
We’re royal, royal, ambassadors, ambassadors, ambassadors for Christ!

From Caraway, we walked through the Birkhead Wilderness and along the entire Uwharrie Mountain Trail. Nestled in Central North Carolina is a relatively unknown and under-appreciated mountain range, the Uwharries. It’s pretty rugged out there, but it was nice to get a break from the pavement. After walking miles and miles of pavement, even a rocky trail has a certain comfort to it. Jamie, Charlotte, Josiah, and my niece Makyna, drove down to join us on the walk for an entire day. That day was almost completely on trail.

We had a few encounters in the Uwharries. I suspect, though certainly not sure, that three gentlemen I spoke to in the Birkhead Wilderness were homosexuals, two older men and one younger who wouldn’t even look me in the eye, just stared at the ground. All I could see in his countenance was entrapment and shame. I had genuine pity for this poor soul in those moments. I spoke to them of America’s spiritual problem and the only hope that is the Gospel. All three, praise God, took Gospel tracts. It was the younger of the three that I remember most. He looked up from the ground, and as he took the tract, his countenance briefly flashed a ray of hope. I trust the LORD used it and had me on that spot on that remote trail at precisely that moment. I was reminded of a similar encounter I had in the Castro District of San Francisco many years ago during my seminary years. A young man dressed in drag approached with tears in his eyes as we were handing out Bibles and talking to folks along a Halloween costume parade route. My buddy and I were actually dressed up like giant Bibles that night. Through tears, he asked: “I don’t know what that Book is you are giving away, but can it help me? Can it give me some hope?” I remember putting my arms around him and praying for him. He left grateful for that Bible, and I wonder to this day what ever happened to him. That was probably 20 years ago. If you are willing, the LORD will put you in the right place at the right time, even if it is “way out of the way.”

I found an old polaroid photo from that night in the Castro dressed up like giant Bibles. Mine, of course, was a KJV :)

Later on the trail last week, I ran into two older hiking buddies. One was a believer, the other was an unbeliever. They admitted to being opposite and at odds in everything, even politics, except their love of hiking together. Both were very kind toward me. I shared about what I was doing, of my love for sharing the Messiah with the Jewish people, and of the soon coming of the LORD. The believer confessed these things openly with me and was encouraged to speak of them. His unbelieving friend just stood there listening. Before moving on, I asked how I could pray for each of these men along my long walk. The believer in a tone bespeaking humble conviction replied, “Please pray for me to know God’s will for my life. I fear my love of hiking is just a love of hiking and that I am not using such things to glorify God as I should be.” I could tell he was convicted about not being more bold with his friend about the Gospel. The other gentlemen told me he couldn’t think of anything he needed me to pray about. I chuckled and replied, “Well, my friend, I am going to pray for you anyway.” I know the Lord was doing something, and I really believe He is going to use that brother to be more of a witness to his friend in the coming days. Please pray for Randy and Tony.

Randy & Tony in the Birkhead Wilderness

There were some unnerving moments when I discovered that the Birkhead Trail petered out in the middle of the woods at the edge of a property line with a multitude of No Tresspassing signs. I had no choice but to press on through the woods. Nowadays, a guy simply cannot walk across America without eventually having to trespass on private property. I ended up in someone’s back yard close to a road and had to literally sneak way around the house up and over a ravine. When I was finally forced to exit onto what I thought was the road, I was still in the driveway, and three ferocious dogs came running. Thankfully, I was carrying a trekking pole, and I kept them at bay. And thankfully, no one was home. That wasn’t the type of homestead a guy wants to be caught snooping around without permission. I think it was several miles of bushwhacking and navigating on that private property. I had prayed that God would shield me from unforgiving eyes, and He did. I had rehearsed many times what I would say if discovered: “I was really hoping I could ask forgiveness since I wasn’t able to ask permission.” In this case, I didn’t have to use such a plea, but I’m sure I will eventually.

If you are going to walk across the country, not only will you have to deal with private property lines, but you will also inevitably have to walk late at night to avoid dangerous traffic and road construction. Bethany and Eric walked the last leg of the Uwharrie Trail into the night and finally came out of the creepy woods at the southern terminus around 9:45pm last Thursday. I had scouted the road ahead and noted bad traffic, even late, and a mess of road construction involving the narrow bridge over the Pee Dee River. I knew it would be a mistake to try to walk that during the day, and there was no other option. So, I grabbed the cross and slogged that 4.5-mile stretch, already exhausted after many miles of trail that day. I think I arrived at the junction of Indian Mound Road after 11:00pm. Thankfully, I had the construction lanes all to myself at that hour, and I crumbed some big equipment and porta-potties with Gospel tracts. I even needed to use one of those potties. It was a surprisingly clean and nice alternative to the woods on the side of the highway. Late that night, we grabbed some dinner at the only place open in Albemarle, a Waffle House. We witnessed to the two ladies working inside, good encounters, and they prepared for me the best mess of Waffle House hash-browns I have ever tasted. We finally hit the sack back at Camp Caraway around 2:00am. It was a memorable Thursday.

Sometimes, you gotta walk late at night.

Last Friday, we resumed at Indian Mound Road and continued walking back roads toward another spot on the map that can be considered WAY OUT OF THE WAY, a short stretch of pavement in Stanly County where some old friends live. Way back when I was wrestling with the idea of walking across America, we had talked about needing to get together for some fellowship. I told them I would just walk by their house. I said this not knowing what the route would even look like, and as it developed, that spot seemed more and more out of the way. But, the Lord kept reminding me that I gave my word in a day and time when a man’s word means nothing and that a righteous man “sweareth to his own hurt and changeth not” (Psalm 15:4). It was important that I keep my word, even if it means more than double the walking distance from Camp Caraway to where I am headed in my home county. So, we ended last week at a little crossroads called Cottonville, about twelve miles from my friends’ home. Two of their older boys came out and walked with us last Friday, and we had some good Gospel encounters. That time was well worth the “extra miles” it took to get there.

It’s always a blessing to have some Christian company come alongside for a few miles.

When we resume, we will undoubtedly walk WAY OUT OF THE WAY again just to get to our friends’ house. We are so close to where Union, Anson, and Stanly Counties come together, and there is something special about crossing county lines on foot. If we walk a few extra miles, we can cross three county lines in one day. Why not?

WAY OUT OF THE WAY? Is there really any such thing when you are walking across a continent on foot and your purpose is to work the works of God? What is the work of God? Simple: “This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent” (John 6:29).

The time we had at Sandy Creek already has me thinking about another creek, this one in Kentucky. Along Cane Creek, the Lord did a mighty work during America’s Second Great Awakening (roughly 1790-1840). I guess I need to walk there. It will be WAY OUT OF THE WAY, but that’s just the way we like it. Stay tuned.

Please pray for us as we continue this work. I wanted to resume yesterday, but there is a ridiculous fuel shortage in North Carolina, you know, the stuff that you used to only see in the Third World. There are long lines and most stations around here are simply dry. It will take me half a tank of gas just to get from home to the spot where we stopped walking. I thought a knee injury, weariness, maybe some sickness might delay us from time to time in this walk, but I never dreamed it would be because we can’t get gas for the S.A.G. vehicle. America is truly a mess, an insane asylum run by the inmates. That’s why we must walk across her and preach to her. Please pray that we can get back out on the road sooner rather than later. Maybe tomorrow.

Please also pray for the people of Israel. There is a mess over there too. We have been in touch with Israeli friends from our past summers of ministry to the Israeli backpackers, and there are some with relatives in the IDF and living in areas affected by the rocket attacks. God promises a blessing to those who pray for the peace of Jerusalem and her people (Psalm 122:6). And don’t believe the media lies about what is going on over there. The biggest liars and terrorists on the whole face of the earth are the mainstream American news media outlets. Pray especially for our Jewish brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ who are living in Israel. These are in a place of great opportunity right now, a place of great power. For there are those who are huddled right now in bomb shelters with their unbelieving countrymen who are weary and despairing after more than a year of Covid nonsense and now the rocket barrages. There is great opportunity to speak the Gospel and the hope of the Jewish Messiah at this moment to Israelis who are without hope. Pray for the boldness and protection of Israeli believers in these moments. I can't think of a more incredible place to declare the Gospel and to have a captive audience of hearers than in a bomb shelter. Did you know that in 1948, when the Modern State of Israel declared its independence, there were about 12 Jewish believers in Yeshua the Messiah living in the land. Today, there are more than 30,000! That's a growth rate that the American churches certainly cannot claim from the past 50 years. Let’s never forget to pray for the persecuted Jewish churches in Israel. God has always reserved to Himself a Jewish remnant. Today is no different than Elijah's day when more than 7,000 in Israel had not bowed the knee to Baal. God is faithful to keep His Word in all points and at all points in time.

One of the Israeli backpackers that Eric & Mindy Trent hosted in Colombia back in 2019 sent him this photo taken from near Tel Aviv this morning.

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.

Way out of the way is well worth it to walk some holy ground, to relive some fond memories, or to simply keep one’s word to a friend. It’s well worth it. Trying going way out of your way sometime.

For the Word of God and the Testimony of Jesus the Messiah, to the Jew first and also to the Gentile:

Jesse Boyd