This Pocket Cross Was Predestined for Afghanistan -By Brother Chuck

"God proved His love on the Cross. When Christ hung, and bled, and died, it was God saying to the world, "I love you.'" -Dr. Billy Graham

By Brother Chuck

Some time ago, I was shopping at a Christian bookstore, when I came upon a display of pocket crosses. These little gold plated pocket crosses were quite nice. I thought the cross would be nice to carry in my pocket along with my pocket change so every time I reached into my pocket I would see that little cross and be reminded of Jesus. I thought it might bring comfort and perhaps encourage me to share the gospel wherever I went. And it did too! I had no idea God would use that little cross so profoundly in my ministry, nor did I know that little cross would reach the ends of the earth, even to a Baptist woman living in Afghanistan.

I carried that little cross everywhere I went. It always reminded me of Jesus' own words when He said, "If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me" (Matthew 16:24 NLT). In my mind, that little cross had accomplished it's goal. It had become a wonderful reminder to me in my ministry all over the world. That little cross reminded me that wherever I went and whatever I did, God was right there with me, by my side. And with Him by my side, I was never alone and I was never the minority but always the majority. I became quite attached to that little gold cross. I probably wouldn't have given it up for anything. It carried no power but its symbolism was the most powerful force on earth. Because the cross is symbolic of God's agape love. Agape love is ultimate love. It's unconditional love. Agape love is sacrificial love. "There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends." -Jesus (John 51:13 NLT) He called us friends. And he willingly laid down His life for us. That's what the cross is all about.

"Only in the Cross of Christ will we receive power when we are powerless. We will find strength when we are weak. We will experience hope when our situation is hopeless. Only in the Cross is there peace for our troubled hearts." -Dr. Michael Youssef

I carried that little cross in my pocket for many many years. It had been with me when I preached in jails, prisons, even prisons in far away lands like Belize and El Salvador. It had been with me in street witnessing in many cities both at home and abroad. It accompanied me to South America, Central America, the Caribbean, Europe and Africa. Yes, I had become quite attached to that little cross of mine until one day I lost it. It broke my heart. It was like losing a dear old friend because that little cross and me had been through the fiery furnace together many many times.

I looked everywhere for that little gold cross. I looked high and I looked low. I looked under my bed and under every piece of furniture I owned. I checked all my pants pockets. I looked in the washing machine. I looked all through my car. That little cross of mine was nowhere to be found. It was lost forevermore. I surely missed my little cross. I would've given anything to have that little cross back in my pocket where it belonged. But it was not to be. My little cross was gone for good. I always thought someday, I would buy another little gold cross and put it in my pocket, but somehow, I never seemed to get around to it. I guess I knew that no other cross could ever replace that little cross that had been with me through so many spiritual battles and in so many different places and countries around the world.

Then one day my good friend Roy, a missionary and co-worker in the gospel, called me and said, "We're putting together a team to do the drama "Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames" in an open air crusade in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. That's in east Africa. Are you in?" And I said, "Count me in, brother! Sounds great!" So a team of about 40 or so men and women was assembled from many different states. Some, me included, would merge together in Amsterdam and take a tour of Amsterdam. We visited the home of Corrie ten Boom and the hiding place where the ten Boom family hid the Jews from the Gestapo during the Holocaust. From there we flew to Nairobi, Kenya, and then on to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.

The open air crusade was a success. Tens of thousands of Africans came to see "Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames" and thousands were saved during the week-long crusade. We also broke into many small groups and ministered in many local churches on Sunday morning. We did street witnessing as well. One member of our team had brought a very large plastic bag full of inexpensive little pot metal crosses. He had asked that we all take a handful and give them out everywhere we went. So I did exactly that, but I kept one little cross to put in my pocket. I just couldn't resist. It wasn't gold like the one I had lost a year before, and it wasn't even pretty. It was just an inexpensive little pot metal cross. But, its symbolism remained the same.  I put that little pot metal cross in my pocket and I have to tell you, it felt good to have a little cross back in my pocket again.

After leaving Africa, we caught our connecting flight in Amsterdam, and headed back to the states. I was seated next to an attractive, and nicely dressed American woman. I tried striking up a conversation with her, but she seemed reluctant to talk. After I finished reading my newspaper, I offered it to her, but she she politely said, "No thank you." I told her that I was a Christian missionary, and I told her about the ministry we had just completed back in Dar es Salaam. All my talk about God and ministry seemed to relax her a little, and she began to converse with me. She told me a heartbreaking story about her American friend living in Afghanistan. She was on her way back home to South Carolina after visiting her friend there.

She told me that her friend grew up as a pastor's daughter in South Carolina. They were Baptist, and she was a Christian. After her high school graduation, her friend went away to college where she met a man she fell in love with. The man was an Afghani Muslim, on an education visa to the states. They were married soon after meeting, against the wishes of her friends and family. He talked her into moving back to Afghanistan with him. He was nice at first. Little did she know, she would have to convert to Islam, and the abuse from her husband would begin. She was completely under his control and she never went home again.

She bore her husband three sons. By this time, her eldest son was 18 years old. He was a man. He knew no other life except how to be an Afghani Muslim man. Another son was in his early teens and he too knew no other way of life. The third son was still a small child. She longed to return to her family back home. She yearned to once again worship in a Christian church. More than anything, she wanted to take her boys and flee Afghanistan and go home. But if she tried to leave, her husband said he would kill her. On top of that, her two oldest sons had no desire to leave their home in Afghanistan. The United States was a foreign country to them. And they had been taught that Christians are infidels. It would be problematic convincing them to flee with her. She was trapped and felt hopeless. She didn't know what to do. No one knew what to do. Neither did I when I heard her story, except to pray. There's great power in prayer! So I prayed.

I remembered that small pot metal cross I had in my pocket. I only had it there for a few days after being without one for more than a year, but I knew what I needed to do with it. So I reached into my pocket and pulled out that little cross and I said, "Please send this little cross to your friend in Afghanistan. Tell her there are 40 missionaries praying for her. This cross will remind her of God's love. It will give her hope." She thanked me and promised to do just that. I would never see this woman again and I have no idea whatever happened to the pastor's daughter living in Afghanistan. But, if God didn't help her get home, then He's using her as a beacon of light in a dark country. If her heart yearned to worship once again in a Christian church, then her conversion to Islam never really happened. How could it? She still loves Jesus!

About a week after arriving back home from Africa, I moved the sofa to vacuum. And lo and behold, there laid my little gold pocket cross. I couldn't believe I finally found it after all this time. Please pray with me for the pastor's daughter and her family in Afghanistan.

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