Today my good friend and Sunday school teacher, Rex Russell, and
I flew to New York City. We checked into our hotel and went outside to
try to get our bearings. This proved more difficult than we thought. We
eventually decided to take a subway down to lower Manhattan to see
Ground Zero for ourselves and to determine if we would be able to get
the cross there. We popped our heads above ground seven or eight blocks
from Ground Zero. After some momentary confusion, we just began to
follow the flow of people. It seemed everyone was gravitating in that
direction. It was very windy and beginning to get dark. About six blocks
away it became apparent that we were headed in the right direction. The
air was filled with particles of ash and we could already smell the
acrid odor.
As we came to within a couple of blocks, it became very
confusing. Although we did not know it at the time, this was the very
first day people were allowed to come this close to Ground Zero. We
certainly did not want to break any rules, or go where we were not
permitted, but early on it became clear that hard and fast rules were
not yet established. There were hundreds of people milling about and
policemen and barricades on every corner. Some policemen said one thing
and others said another. At some checkpoints, policemen posed in
pictures, while at others they would not allow people to take pictures
at all. It was easy to see there were people there from all over
America, as well as many New Yorkers seeing the devastation for the
first time. People were largely silent as they stared between buildings
for glimpses of the scene.
Eventually we wound up on a sidewalk near Trinity Church, less
than a hundred yards from Ground Zero. Here, hundreds of people milled
about with firemen and policemen. A chain-link fence had become a
makeshift memorial, with flowers and candles. By this time it was
getting dark, the glaring lights at the site made everything seem even
more surreal. I can say from my standpoint, having seen it dozens of
times on the news and then standing there staring at it in person, it
was still impossible to grasp. Somehow your eyes survey the scene, but
your mind refuses to believe that it is real.
There were sheets attached to the fences where people were
encouraged to write their thoughts. There were, of course, thousands of
messages from people all over America and indeed, the world. But my eyes
fell upon a specific message scrawled with a Marks-A-Lot in large
letters—“THERE ARE NO WORDS.” And I have to say this captures it
perfectly. We determined that we would be able to get the cross there
physically if the police did not intervene. After some time, we found
the subway station and made our way back to our hotel near Times Square.
The Narrow Way on Broadway!
Friday, October 26, 2001
We prayed in our room this morning; in a new place and situation
it is always a bit unsettling to think how people will react. But after
having done this for three years, I am almost completely immune to
people’s reaction. We then took the cross downstairs on the sidewalk in
front of our hotel, and put it together. I lifted the cross to my
shoulder, in Jesus’ name, and started toward Times Square, which was
only a block away. Just as I reached the beginning of Times Square, we
found ourselves surrounded by a group of construction workers, gaping at
us incredulously. I approached three of them and one of them quickly
walked away. The two remaining turned out to be from Ireland. One of
them was named Brian, and even if he didn’t understand it, I could tell
he seemed mesmerized at the sight of a life-sized wooden cross.
From the first moment I spoke to him, Jesus drew my heart to him.
It’s hard to explain, but sometimes I feel the tender love of the Lord
Jesus Christ for a person. Sometimes we just obediently talk to people,
and no special feeling occurs. But then others, like this moment with
Brian, are truly extraordinary. And you perceive that the love and
compassion flowing out of your heart for a person you have only met a
minute or two ago, is not coming from your own heart but directly from
the heart of their Savior. He knows everything about them, the very
number of hairs on their head, and cares for them infinitely. I cannot
say this happens every time I go out with the cross, but what a thrill
it was that this happened with the very first person I spoke with in New
York. Brian was tall and thin and had on dirty coveralls and big work
gloves. He had reddish-blond hair, big friendly eyes, and a ready smile.
He seemed slightly awkward and embarrassed, but I could tell he really
wanted to talk. I could tell from the posture of the work crew they were
on some sort of break, so I felt liberty to talk with him for several
minutes. He listened intently as I spoke about the person of Jesus and
what had happened on the cross. Even though I was speaking to Brian, I
knew the whole work crew was listening to every word. Finally, I could
tell their break was over and the crew started milling about and picking
up their tools. I gave many of them literature, including Brian.
Rex and I started on Times Square and intended to walk all the
way down Broadway, back to lower Manhattan and Ground Zero. The weather
was chilly, but pleasant. And of course we didn’t walk far before we
were again conversing with a man named Edwin from South America. The
sidewalk was covered in scaffolding and crammed with people, so it was
pretty difficult to not hit anybody. We reached a block with a bus lane
and some open area so I thought it would be a good time for Rex to carry
the cross. I stuck it on his shoulder, grabbed his camera, and ran a few
yards ahead to take his picture. What I had not realized at that moment
was that he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready. He told me later he felt
like three hundred thousand eyes immediately focused on him. Sometimes I
forget that not everyone is as used to this as I have become. But he did
great and identified himself with our glorious Savior in one of the
world’s most crowded cities.
We walked and walked and talked and talked. So many interesting
people, that I can scarcely remember to include. A Muslim named Ali-din
and a Jewish man named Abraham. I must admit I can’t remember many of
the people we spoke with this day. But one in particular stands out for
both Rex and me. We started speaking with a man about 30 years old on
some kind of work bicycle. His name was Bernardo. He was an
entrepreneur, who had invented this incredible apparatus that fits on
the side of a mountain bike and can carry up to five hundred pounds of
cargo. In big cities, full of bumper-to-bumper traffic, a lot of courier
services and street vending is done by bike.
We asked him where he was on September 11th and his
impressions of the day. He immediately became very somber and said, “I
should be dead. I was scheduled to meet someone at the underground
station under the World Trade Center at exactly nine a.m. But I was
running late and didn’t make the appointment. I was on another train
about twenty minutes later, when they stopped our train and said there
had been some emergency and we could not proceed any further. So we just
waited underground for the longest time, not knowing what was going on.
Finally, we were allowed to continue to the next station and exit the
train. So once I got above ground we went into a store where everyone
was standing around a TV. Only then did I realize how close I had come.”
He was extremely open as we talked about Jesus. Although there is
no way I can know for sure, I doubt he would have been open before
September 11th. But I think his brush with death had made him
start thinking. Bernardo was a bit of a character and a real thinker. He
had well-thought out views on many subjects and they ran close to the
surface. We spoke with him for more than an hour. It was very obvious he
knew very little about the person of Jesus Christ and His gospel. As we
told him the things that Jesus had done and said, and especially about
the cross, this ferocious intellectual who did not mind voicing his
opinion, became as meek as a lamb. He listened intently about Jesus, the
most incredible person who ever walked the face of the earth. Although
we were not able to lead him to Christ, he gladly accepted my New York
tract and my booklet “Answers to Life’s Deepest Questions,” and I’m very
sure he has encountered the irresistible carpenter from Nazareth. I have
great hope I will see him in heaven.
Another thing was going on while we were absorbed in talking
to Bernardo. The temperature was plunging. It must have dropped twenty
degrees in that one hour. And a gusty, thirty-mile an hour wind went
right through us. Rex and I were ecstatic as we walked away from
Bernardo, but we both noticed how stiff and tired we were. We had not
really dressed for this kind of cold and we were both feeling its
effect. We had also talked to so many people along the way that it was
getting close to dark and we knew we could not make it to Ground Zero
this day. We had walked 22 blocks and spoken to a steady stream of New
Yorkers. We decided to call it a day and headed back.
Ground Zero
Saturday, October 27, 2001
We took the three pieces of the cross, strapped together, and a
backpack full of literature, jumped on a subway and headed for Ground
Zero. We weren’t sure if they would actually let us into the crowded
areas near the site with the cross. We walked past numerable police
checkpoints and no one ever tried to stop us. I spoke with many people,
the first of which was a journalist who lives only five blocks from
Ground Zero. He was deeply affected by this tragedy. I sensed I was
speaking to someone who had seen many things and was kind of jaded about
life. Once again I felt I was speaking with a person who probably would
not have listened to me on September 10th. He was extremely
interested in my cross and took all sorts of pictures from different
angles to get Ground Zero in the background. I think we spoke for three
quarters of an hour and I got to speak freely about faith in Jesus
Christ. He gladly took my literature and told me about his website where
I might find the pictures he had taken.
I spoke with a man from Tibet, whose name I cannot remember. At
one point I found myself on a busy sidewalk. There were people selling
little flags and ribbons and groups passing out all sorts of things. I
stood for the longest time, up against a fence, just passing out the
tract I had written about September 11th to the throng as it
was moving by. Rex and I were still at Ground Zero as night fell and it
was very cold again. Everything about being there seems surreal. I found
myself carrying on a deep, personal conversation with two people in full
gas masks. I was witnessing to them and they were answering back with
muffled voices that sounded like Darth Vader. Even though I could not
see their faces, Jesus could see their hearts and they seemed very open
and interested about Him. Scarcely anyone turned down my literature in
New York.
A short time later, Rex and I encountered a peculiar young man
named Jory. He was probably in his early twenties. He had long hair and
was into Yoga and New Age. His views about spiritual things were weird
and extreme, to say the least. Mostly he wanted to talk about “energy
sources.” He spoke of a pilgrimage to India and a frenetic ritual where
the Hindus were burning people’s bodies and chanting and screaming “Rom,
Rom, Rom.” Rex asked him how he felt being there and he indicated to us
it was one of the highlights of his life. We asked him his opinion about
Jesus and received an equally bizarre response. But as we spoke more
about the person of Jesus, he reluctantly had to acknowledge the
uniqueness and sturdiness of the Christian faith. We spoke with him at
length and got into some pretty personal areas about his life. While we
certainly can’t say he converted, we know the awesome power of the
gospel and appreciate any of you who would pray for him.
Earlier, near the very beginning on the perimeter, we had an
incredible conversation with a young man named Jamal (picture on the
cover). And now, at a completely different place hours later, he saw us
and came up to us immediately. He was genuinely excited to have
encountered us a second time and ran and got a friend and introduced her
to us. After talking to us a while he asked if he could put the cross on
his shoulder with his friend and we all took pictures. Of course, the
mood around Ground Zero is solemn, overwhelming, and depressing. Somehow
there was a brief moment of joy between the four of us around the cross.
It was late in the evening after speaking with more people that
Rex and I tore ourselves away. We were freezing, stiff, and exhausted,
but it was a great day of bringing hope and peace to dozens of people
who seemed to be searching for just those things. Rex flew home the next
afternoon and what a blessing it was to have him along to start this
trip. He later told our Sunday school class his overall impression of
what it was like to go out with the cross. “I felt like almost all the
people we were talking to that their closest connection to the gospel of
Jesus was a third generation, Catholic grandmother. I think it would be
safe to say that the chances of any of them stumbling into the back door
of a church was remote. So being able to go out and talk to them about
Christ was an awesome experience.”
Homeless in New York!
Monday, October 29, 2001
Today was an awesome day! In the morning, I went for a prayer
walk, but it was a challenge for me to pray on Times Square surrounded
by thousands. I left my hotel about 11:30 with the cross. I walked 7th
Avenue to Central Park. I had a good time on the way speaking to people
from several nations including Martinique and Bangladesh. I also
encountered a construction crew on their lunch break. They were New
Yorkers all the way. They were big mouthed and brash and looked as tough
as nails. In their hard-hats, they appeared to be the kind of
no-nonsense northeasterners who could never be touched with the gospel.
But I got them all laughing and gained a rapport with them and gave them
all tracts.
At Central Park South, I met two Israelis who had only been in
New York a couple of years. One was named Daniel, and the other was very
reticent and kept drifting away so I didn’t get his name. But not
Daniel! He was super open and friendly and gladly listened as I talked
about the person of Jesus! We spoke for a while and he took a tract
gladly. I gave him two and told him to see if he could persuade his
friend to take one.
I entered the park and pressed deeper in. It was confusing with
paths running every direction. I talked to a few people as I walked
about a mile into the park. Then, sitting on a bench, I met a friendly
man of 39, named Leonard. He looked Jewish, although he wasn’t, with a
thin face, big round brown eyes, and a thin black beard. He was from New
Mexico, and was very well spoken and humble. He was more intelligent and
articulate than probably 90% of the people I speak with all over the
world. He was an artist and he was selling small pastel pictures that he
had drawn that were truly beautiful. He also told me he had been in New
York City ten months to pursue an art career. Things had not gone as he
had hoped and he was now homeless. He looked clean and neat and showed
no tell-tell signs of alcohol or drug use. When I lived in Germany as a
missionary in 1984 & 85 we worked in rehab & street ministry. I have
worked with many homeless people and addicts and I know what to look
for. At the risk of sounding disparaging, so many of them are such
blatant and ineffective con artists. Leonard was different.
He told me in great detail of his conversion to Christ, and he
knew the Bible very, very well. I could tell by the terms he was using,
he truly understood the basic message of the New Testament. I believe he
really was saved. I must admit here in the USA, I don’t believe 90% of
those who tell me they are a Christian. Because I can tell from their
speech, they have no real concept of saving faith. Even though I totally
believe he was a Christian, I sensed he was very, very discouraged and
had never been discipled. I gave him one of the follow-up books we had
brought and shared a lot of scriptures with him to encourage him in his
walk and basic discipleship.
After a long while, a van pulled up from some sort of homeless
outreach from the city. They offered us both a sack lunch. I told them I
didn’t want to take the lunch from someone who truly needed it. They
assured me they had plenty for the day. I think I was so closely
identified with these homeless that the shelter folks didn’t believe me
when I told them I was not homeless. To make a long story short, I spent
about five hours with this one man. I just could not pull myself away. I
felt such a real presence of Jesus and His compassion filling my heart
like an unquenchable river. I must admit this rarely happens when I’m
with the homeless because they usually only want money. But Leonard was
the opposite in every way. In fact, in the first 30 seconds I was with
him, he gave me a box of raisins. I tried to talk him out of giving them
to me. He also wanted to give me an apple, but I managed to persuade him
to keep it. In fact he never asked me for anything.
It never ceased to amaze me as we talked on and on how well
versed this man was over every subject we spoke of. After a while
another man out walking his dog came to join our conversation. He told
us he was jogging over a hill above us and saw the cross and was drawn
to it. His name was Jose and he was half Jewish and half Latino. Because
of this, he said growing up he was very confused about God. He talked
with us for about an hour. He was already a believer and told us of how
he too had been down and out in this city, and how he got on his knees
and gave the situation to Jesus Christ. He then told us how God gave him
a good job, a decent car, and even a new place to live in Queens. He
quietly encouraged Leonard, and then went on his way.
I really can’t find words to explain why I spent four or five
hours with this one homeless man. He kept saying, “I’m sorry I talk so
much, I’m keeping you from talking to other people.” But I didn’t feel
that way. I only felt the intense love of the Savior for this lonely,
discouraged, if not lost, sheep. He was downcast and confused about his
homeless situation. In the end, he wanted to feel the cross on his
shoulder. He was frail and I could tell he could hardly lift it. I
prayed for him and he prayed with me. I finally pulled myself away.
I spoke with a few more people including two more construction
workers, who were erecting bleachers for the New York City Marathon that
would take place in a few days. As I started back through the park, two
things happened. Number one, it was further back to Central Park South,
where I had entered, than I realized and it was more complicated than I
anticipated. And, number two, on Sunday we switched back from Daylight
Savings Time. I didn’t really think of these details and it got dark on
me while I was still in the park and I got lost. I didn’t panic, but I
knew I was not emerging where I had entered and since I had lost my
sense of direction, all these canyons of skyscrapers look alike. I
didn’t have a clue where I was. I emerged somewhere in Central Park
West. I stopped and asked two teens, and it gave me a chance to witness
to them and give them a tract. (Because I got lost, I hope they’ll be
found!) I eventually got my bearings.
Next, I found myself witnessing to a very interested horse carriage
driver. She looked like a gypsy. But just after it got interesting,
someone hailed her carriage and she had to go and take them on their
ride. But she happily took a tract. Another stocky man heard me talking
to her and approached right after she left. With a thick New York
accent, he said, “You gotta another one dem papers there for me?” I
said, “Sure!” and chatted happily with him as I got one out of my cargo
pocket. The second I handed it to him, his face turned dark and evil.
With monumental contempt, he tore it up into pieces and threw it into
the street with an exaggerated, violent throw. Then he stalked off,
saying that was what he thought of my Jesus. He had turned sour so fast
that it totally caught me off guard and he was gone before I could say
anything.
I found Broadway, but it was crowded and because it was dark, I
had trouble walking the cross through the crowd. It was a good day and I
felt tired but happy. I ate a late dinner and went to bed.
They wanted me gone!
Tuesday, October 30, 2001
The maids knocked on the door while I was trying to pray and get
ready for the day. I just could never get back on track. I am pressed to
explain why but this day was a disappointing wash out. I don’t know if I
was just tired or what, but I felt heavy and unmotivated. I only got out
for about two hours after lunch and only talked to a handful of people
(one was from Pakistan). This had some promise, but his English was very
poor. I think the days in these lost throngs of people just started to
overwhelm me.
Tonight I went to Times Square Church. It was great. It is an
interdenominational church whose members represent 100 nations and
languages. Awesome message by a visiting minister on “Brokenness.”
It encouraged me when I really needed it.
Wednesday, October 31, 2001
Oh praise the Sovereign name of the Lord! Today was the best day
of the trip! I felt the glorious presence of Jesus as I walked all day.
I could sense the wonderful help of the Holy Spirit as I spoke to person
after person. He truly gives power to witness!
I walked to the Avenue of Americas (6th), then toward
Central Park. I saw Radio City Music Hall. I talked to a few people
briefly; the sidewalk was very crowded. I stopped on the busy public
sidewalk in front of Rockefeller Center to call Rex. I was sitting with
dozens of people on a bench talking to Rex, when a security guard came
and told me to leave. He said I had been seen by security cameras and
they wanted me gone. I took it in good nature. I stood and started
slowly down the sidewalk because I was still talking on my cell phone.
Apparently the guard didn’t like my pace, even though I was surrounded
by hundreds of people only a few feet from the street. He kept following
me and glaring at me. I continued walking and at the end of the block I
stopped talking to Rex and started to cross the street. The light said
“Don’t Walk” so I stopped. Then the security guard started toward me
again, like a dog sent to chase me off his yard.
Time Magazine!
In the next block, a lady approached me and asked if she could
ask me a few questions. She told me she was from Time Magazine,
no less, and introduced herself and her photographer, Andre.
Unfortunately I forgot her name. We had a great talk. I really felt God
was giving me the words to say that would be interesting to her and
reflect the beautiful nature of Jesus. We spoke for about 15 minutes.
She told me with all that is going on she did not promise it would
appear in the magazine, but that she thought it was very interesting and
worth submitting. She wanted my name, phone number, and email. I gave
her one of my brochures. At the end, I also gave her one of my tracts.
I knew for a well-educated, possibly liberal, New York reporter,
its message was probably very direct and “politically incorrect.” I knew
it might ruin the chances of my actually making it into the magazine,
but I would rather she clearly hear the gospel and perhaps be saved than
to appear in the magazine. We parted very cordially. She seemed very
sympathetic to my mission and encouraged me. She asked if I minded if
Andre followed me down the street and continued taking pictures. He
followed me for blocks and blocks incessantly taking pictures, all the
way to Central Park. I got to talk to him awhile and gave him a tract
and brochure. Somehow this set off a bit of a “feeding frenzy.” Several
more members of the paparazzi showed up snapping pictures, and I gave
one more interview. I have no idea what might have gotten published.
Once I reached the edge of Central Park, I leaned the cross up
against a bench and stopped and bought a hot dog. I went toward the
bench but the man on the next bench called me over and asked about the
cross. We sat and had lunch together and talked for about 45 minutes. He
was from Chili. His name was Richardo and he was really open to Jesus.
At one point I asked him if he liked living in New York. He said, “I
love this country, but I’m lonely. It seems hard to make friends here.
When you are on the street, it’s like these people don’t have a heart!”
I knew just what he was talking about. A great many of these New
Yorkers are very unapproachable. Many of them seem to look right through
you. But I have found this week how amazing and disarming a simple smile
can be. People sometimes gawk at me with my life-size cross (and who can
blame them); I see cynicism and even a mocking look start to take over
their face. Just at that moment though, I can often make eye contact
with them, give them a warm smile and even a greeting, and before they
know it that hardness melts away. We wind up in friendly conversation
about Jesus the Son of God. I’m not sure this would have worked even
September 10th, but now these people have been humbled.
Years ago, Keith Green had a song with the line, Take some
time, make a friend of a stranger! This
is not my nature, but if I let Jesus’ love come through me, it happens
time after time.
Once in the park I was photographed by lots of people in
horse-drawn carriages. I talked to a continuous stream of people from
all over the world. The first being a man from China name Sha (spelling
questionable). Next a really long discussion with a man named Victor
from Ghana. He was very intelligent and well educated and gave me an
extensive test. But in the end he seemed very pleased with the answers I
gave him about the Christian faith. Only then did he accept literature,
and go happily on his way. Next, three Swiss people wanted my picture. I
got to witness to them in German about Jesus.
Finally, I left the park and started down 5th Avenue.
I spoke to a crusty native New Yorker. He had a thick accent and seemed
pretty cynical about life. We started talking about September 11th,
and he really began to let down his guard. At some point he started
talking about needing a place of peace for him and his family. “I have
to tell you, last Sunday I went to church for the first time in many,
many years” he said staring at my cross. What a joy it was to speak to
him about faith in Christ and put a tract into his hand, knowing he is
desperately searching spiritually. I took him as far as I could in the
time we had together.
I also got to speak for a few minutes with a New York policeman
on 5th Ave. He seemed pleased and accepted a tract. A
gregarious woman named Lurlene from Jamaica boisterously conversed with
me about Jesus on 45th Street. On Times Square I spoke with a
wonderful Korean man named Wong (spelling also very questionable). He
was a street vendor and was ecstatic to talk with me about Jesus. Many
of the people I spoke with today spoke English very poorly, but somehow
you feel that the love of Jesus still bridges the gap between their
heart and yours. There were many, many others as well whom I did not get
their name or cannot remember, and many native New Yorkers sprinkled
through out the day. This was the best day so far; it seems God often
saves the best for last. By his help and grace I was able to connect
with people and speak heart to heart with total strangers all day long.
As I was returning to my hotel I saw that the construction crew
on the corner were finishing their project, taking down their
scaffolding and packing up their tools. I spotted my new friend Brian,
(I had talked to him almost everyday this week) and He came right to me.
I complimented the work they had done on the building’s façade and asked
if they were finished. He nodded his head and said, “I see you’re still
at it too.” I told him my work was almost complete and tomorrow I would
be flying home. Then I ventured, “I hope I had some impact on your life
this week.” He smiled broadly, and said in his thick Irish accent, “That
you did!” I asked him if he had read the tract I had given him the first
day. “That I did, my friend.” We spoke ever so briefly about it. But I
knew I needed to be sensitive to the fact that he was working.
