August 12, 2022 alongside US 287 in Madison County, Montana was NOT THE FIRST TIME in my life a complete stranger pulled up to me on the side of a rural highway and GOT OUT OF HIS VEHICLE to attack, completely unprovoked. In 2009, I pedaled a bicycle all the way to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, up through Canada on some very remote highways, some of them gravel for many miles. On the afternoon of August 6, 2009 up in the Yukon Territory, I was somewhere east of Whitehorse on a remote section of road with only thick forests aligning the two-lane asphalt. My SAG vehicle was about 5 miles behind me, and my ministry partner was enjoying an afternoon nap. I was flying the a Christian Flag from my bicycle like what I was holding at the starting line of #TheLongWalkUSA.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a vehicle flew past me on the highway, nearly running me off the road. About 100 yards past, he slammed on the brakes and started aggressively in reverse. At this point, I got off the bicycle and stood by, a bit concerned. He stopped even with me and got out of the vehicle, a rough-looking big man I had never seen before. In fact, it had been 70 miles since I had encountered anyone else. He didn’t say anything but was visibly angry and made a step toward me. I warned him very bluntly: “Sir, you need to get back into your vehicle and move on. If you attempt to harm me out here, I will defend myself.” I didn’t have a handgun with me, as Canadian law didn’t allow for me to carry one into the country. But, I did have a big can of bear spray in a holster. I let him know I was in fear for my life and that I would not hesitate to use it. This warning accomplished its purpose. He suddenly got back into his vehicle and left. I never saw that car again.

About 30 minutes later, as I was pedaling completely alone in that wilderness, a large all-terrain ATV suddenly came barreling out of the woods and up onto the highway behind me. Before I could turn to see what was happening, this large ATV ran completely over me and my bicycle, smashing me below it to the road. In the shock and pain, I looked up and saw a man flipping me off as he sped off. It was the same man from the car. By God’s grace, the spandex saved my legs from being shredded. The spandex were shredded instead, and there was blood. The Christian flag, apparently the object of this man’s hatred, and the pannier bag to which it was attached shielded my body from the tires. They rolled over that flag and the bag. I smacked my head hard on the pavement, but I was wearing a helmet which I was accustomed to neglecting on those lonely roads. I hadn’t seen another vehicle for many miles, but suddenly a young couple was on the scene, and they helped me out of the road. I radioed my SAG driver, and he quickly got to the scene. The young couple eventually left when I insisted we would be ok. Then, while nursing my wounds on the back of our truck, that ATV returned to the scene, presumably to finish the job of killing me. He was shocked to see my SAG driver and to suddenly be looking right down the barrel of a 12-gauge pump shotgun (a long gun for which we had a permit to possess and carry with us in Canada because of dangerous wildlife). My ministry partner stepped into the gap on my behalf. The big beast of a man sped off, and we never saw him again.

Long story short, it was a very trying time. I wasn’t seriously hurt, but it was more than a week before I felt well enough to get back on the bicycle. The bicycle itself was badly damaged. An unbeliever in Whitehorse felt so bad about what had happened that he repaired it at his bicycle shop at no cost. It took him a few days though. That next week was a time of great despondency and discouragement. We thought to just quit the ride and return home. The weather stayed rainy and cold with no end in sight. I reported the incident to the local RCMP, but they weren’t interested in doing anything with it. I suggested that it may have been a hate crime against me a Christian. They just laughed and scoffed at the notion.

The night after I picked up my repaired bicycle from the kind stranger who fixed it and wouldn’t let me pay a single Loonie, I wrestled through a sleepless night, determined to just quit and go home to North Carolina. The next morning, and by God’s grace,  we decided to just press on. My ministry partner took me back to the exact spot where that ATV had run me over. It was a bit painful, but I mounted the bicycle and started pedaling west. The morning was miserable: rainy, cold, windy. About 15 miles down the road, I stopped at a little fuel station and went inside to get a coffee. I was in despair. I remember a young lady working behind the counter with blue hair. Even in my despair, I was convicted to offer her a Gospel tract. I walked back outside downtrodden and thankful at least for the hot coffee. As I stood there in the drizzle, wondering if I should even get back onto the bike, a stranger pulled up in a work truck. He rolled down the window and said, “You look like you need some prayer my friend. Can I pray for you?” He got out of his truck, put his hand on my shoulder, and lifted me up to our Heavenly Father in Jesus’ name. It was a brief encounter; we traded emails; and that was that.

Over the next couple of months, I eventually made it to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska on that bicycle, all the way up on the Arctic Ocean and then pedaled all the way south to the other end of the Alaska road system in Homer. My parents, my wife, and my two children (Jamie was pregnant with Josiah at the time) were standing there on the spit in Homer with a giant finish line banner as I pedaled into town. Only about 3 miles from that finish line, I had one of the best Gospel encounters of the entire journey, and it resulted in a copy of God’s Word going into someone’s hands.

But, there is something even greater that came of this great trial involving an attempt on my life by a complete stranger. The man who stopped to pray for me … SIX MONTHS LATER, WE WERE TRAVELING ALL OVER SOUTH AMERICA TOGETHER, PREACHING THE GOSPEL IN THE STREETS AND PLAZAS AND ENCOURAGING ONE ANOTHER IN THE FAITH.  He remains my friend in Christ to this day. It was with Brother Bruno that I made my first missionary journey to Bolivia and Peru. There would be many more thereafter.

When an angry stranger threatens me and gets out of his car, I take it seriously, even more so when my children are present, as they were in Montana last week. But I also recognize, that there may yet be very good fruit that comes out of all this. I would never trade that terrible ATV attack for my friendship with Brother Bruno and all the adventures for the Gospel I have since experienced in both Bolivia and Peru.

To God be the Glory. I trust Him.

“But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day” (Genesis 50:20).

Please pray that the ridiculous and unjust charges against us is Montana would be dropped so that we can continue our long walk across America for the Word of God and the Testimony of Jesus Christ. Below is a little video footage from the finish line up in Alaska back in 2009: