The Belgian border was just ahead. Joshua and I were walking in France with the cross along a small winding road.
“Daddy, Daddy, that’s the place I saw in my dream. It’s where I saw the glory of God coming down.”
We walked along the tree-lined road and continued down a hill. A car stopped and a radiant man got out. He was smiling and happy with a special glow. I asked him if he knew Jesus and he replied, “Yes, yes, I know Him.” He had given us no name. But, as he drove off we could feel the glory of God.
The response in this area had been very cool for days, but just up the road was the Belgium border. When we arrived at the border, crowds greeted us. Deep was their conviction as they began to cry. We prayed with them as we started on our journey through Belgium.
Just after we had crossed the border in to Belgium headed to nearby city of Poperinge a man dashed out of a bar with a beer in his hand. He stuck it right in front of our faces and waved us in, offering beer and cokes. Joshua and I left the cross at the door and walked in. The place was filled with laughter.
I began to explain our mission, while the owner of the club, Wally, interpreted.
After speaking for a while, Wally walked to a phone and had the local radio announcer come to interview us. The radio station began playing the interview during the night. The next morning Wally and his second-place World Champion dog walked with us. Everyone in Poperinge knew him. Our progress along the road was announced on the radio every hour. Car after car stopped and the occupants greeted us. We preached in the City Center and then I was asked to preach on the radio station. The place was shaken with an awakening. Wally and many others met Jesus. The glory had come just as Joshua had said.
The southwest part of Belgium was one of the most glorious walks in Europe. We carried the cross on to Brussels and then on to Antwerp.
On this cross walk my family was with me including my children, Gina, Joel, Joy, Joshua, Joseph and Jerusalem. We had a small camper and tents.
The first time I went to Belgium was in 1972. We flew in from Belfast, Northern Ireland, and my cross did not arrive.
It was a long week of phone calls and waiting but finally I persisted in going into the customs restricted area and found my cross lying in the floor! We bought an old VW van to live in with the family and started out toward France.
Pilgrim followers of Jesus,
Arthur and Denise Blessitt