Crossroads

By C.R Hiker

Crossroads is a story of events that occurred on an inter-rail journey, traveling nine European countries in eleven days, carrying a message of Gods mercy to people met along the way.

It is a story where your thoughts end, and Gods ways with you start, a story that can take you to the end of the world and beyond.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512732306

C.R Hiker

The writer has been an Evangelical Christian for thirty years and holds a PhD in Educational Science. Together with Dave Budish, who did the artwork for this book, they hope to inspire people to engage in inter-rail, face-to-face evangelization.

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Copyright © 2016 C.R Hiker.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Concept, text & layout by Cross Roads Hiker

Illustrations & text edit by Dave Budish

Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-3228-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-3229-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-3230-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016902971

WestBow Press rev. date: 3/24/2016

Contents

Inspiration

The Journey

The Vampire

Sandwiches of Doubt

Crowd Surfing

Celebrations of Independence

Bologna Shuffle

From Chaos to Beauty

Imprudent Practices

Spots of a Leopard

The Shroud

The Devil

On a Spin

The Last Days

Is God Unfair?

Homeward Bound

Some Final Remarks

I dedicate this book to my wife, the only one

who gladly accepts almost all of my ideas without pretending.

This is a story made possible

by physical kinetics

and the Spirit of Faith.

It can take you to the end of the world

---and beyond.

Yes I confess, I follow the road, and I believe what the prophets and scriptures tells about the law. I take the words of the prophet Isaiah as a promise: And a highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Way of Holiness.... /It shall belong to those who walk on the way; even if they are fools, they shall not go astray."

Paulus on Isaiah 35:8

Inspiration

T he idea came during a conversation after a Sunday church ser vice.

They were called those who follow the road.

I saw a vision unfold. Leave the first week into summer break. A starting point somewhere symbolic...

Alexanderplatz?

Imagine leaving the everyday noise behind and depending on God, not knowing where to go or what to say. We would travel light, carrying tickets, identity card or passport, supplementary cards, a cell phone and charger, notebook and pen, a Bible,¹ and a toothbrush.

Nothing more.

No camera, no tablet, no travel guide or maps, no books, no change of clothes, no addresses of people to visit or monuments to see.

Only us and three hundred thousand miles of railways.

The whole trip would be done during contemplation and prayer for guidance of the Holy Spirit, on a mission of God, to meet people with a message of mercy.

There were plenty of reasons to be enthusiastic. Responses were great. Everyone loved the idea. We would meet, have a meal together and pray for each other. Then we would decide on another meeting point and split. A few days later we would meet again, share experiences, eat another meal, pray with each other and split again for another loop to another meeting point and...

The disciples walked two by two, someone objected. Take safety into consideration!

Yes, Jesus sent the disciples walking in pairs but also instructed them not to have any copper in their belt, and they traveled by foot.

The idea was maybe brave, but hardly the same as the disciples. Besides, there were some indubitable pros in traveling by yourself. One person is less daunting than two is; and if those we meet also travel alone, they might find it easier to talk with one person, rather than two. Furthermore, by traveling alone, you do not have to put up with any idiosyncrasies of your companion. There will be no waiting outside toilets, no tired comrades to carry mentally, no sad faces, no whining when hunger sets in, no sudden thirst or upset stomachs to take care of, no problems to dwell on, no homesickness, no nonsense or joking around that can take focus away from the trip.

At the end of the trip, we would gather our notes to tell each other about our meetings with people, share insights we gained through prayer and contemplation, and edit it all into a book, just as the Apostles did. Three narrators whose perspectives intertwined into an honest narrative of modern discipleship. The purpose would be as clear as the morning sky gives hope for the day. We would inspire others to commit to a movement of interrail-evangelization, sharing one summertime week to live like the original followers and hike along the road. It would be a peaceful crusade bearing witness to God's love.

It did not turn out as planned.

Everyone bailed out: bad health, not enough self-confidence, nor enough language skills, time, money, or permission from their partners. I had overestimated our priorities. It looked bad. I admit to being disappointed. Maybe our hearts were not thirsty enough. Maybe we were like everybody else, considering ourselves good people, kind people.

*

Instead of giving in, I asked a national daily newspaper to write an article to present the mission, to get in touch with two believers to follow me, and to stir up some public interest for the upcoming book. I also suggested the idea to a young and modern congregation. From their geographical point (closer to the continent), the approach would require a short distance of traveling.

Thumbs up anyone?

The daily newspaper was interested in having a phone interview and so we did. I submitted my image to the newspaper and asked to have the article for corrections prior to publication. You are allowed to edit your quotes, they said.

The interview lasted for fifteen minutes. She asked me many things and I did not spend time worrying about the results.

Maybe I should have worried.

The draft of the article contained no big errors but only unessential threads. Who was I to do this? Had I done this before? When did I attend Bible school? Why? Where? I did not even recognize my own quotes. I edited them thoroughly, thinking that would help. But in doing so, the whole story changed and not for the better. I was told to respect their professional ethics.

Finally, there were no traces of a book project among the selected quotations in the draft, so I asked the journalist to see another draft. This was denied with the corrective, It is not group work.

I told her to delete the interview.

So then, what about the response from the congregation? The truth is, I did not hear from any of them. How was I supposed to respond to this indifference? People just talk and take no action; they like things to be done on their terms, only to serve their purposes.

I think God came up with an answer.

In a short time, my colleagues at the university told some unexpected and quite remarkable stories. I admit I did not understand what to make of it. There was no voice telling me not to quit. It was as gentle as ever.

The first story, let us call it Funeral for a Friend, was told by an outspoken atheist who really despises Christian beliefs, who is always aiming to profane everything. Since he cannot be identified as the storyteller, I have not taken his feelings about me retelling this story much into consideration.² Anyhow, the story told went something like this.

His friend was a nice fellow and successful employee who had a nervous breakdown at a workplace meeting. One week later, he hanged himself. He left behind a wife, two sons who were twenty and seventeen years old, and a daughter of thirteen standing beside the coffin. Heavily burdened by sorrow, my colleague was standing there next to them, deeply depressed and considering life's futility. Depression rested heavily on me all weekend, he said.

My colleague helped to carry the coffin to its place after the ceremony inside the chapel. He was watching the casket along with the family and friends, listening to the priest saying to the mourners gathered, Until we see each other again on the day of resurrection.

I watched him as he sat in my blue leather visitor's chair at the office. He said, All of my burdens were gone in an instant. I can't explain it, but this is what happened.

I did not push for a conclusion.³ Maybe it was the first time he was touched by the Holy Spirit.

*

Shortly after, another colleague told me a story, which goes like this.

A father of the good old sort had turned ill at the age of sixty. It turned out to be a cancer of the bladder that had metastasized. When every medical fact was taken into consideration, this was the end. Twenty-seven years later the man is still alive.

So what happened?

As the old man's illness was getting worse, he one night had a dream. He dreamt a visitor offered him a prayer cloth.

Some days later and without any requests from the sick man, an acquaintance from the local church who had never before visited them, brought a prayer cloth with him, put it on his body, and prayed. This became the turning point. During the prayer, the sick man felt a sensation, and some kind of change took place. The cancer vanished during the year to come, and the man was declared healthy. The doctors were of course out of explanations.

One might ask what purposes this serves. Actually, I do not know. To the man and the family, it was proof that miracles happen. The man was also given many more years of life, and aged naturally. I think this story serves a purpose in our hearts to know there is hope even in the darkest of hours.

*

A colleague also told the third and last story. As it turned out, I was about to become part of a complete revelation!

We were seated around the lunch-table at the workplace; ten or more colleagues with their minds set on lists to sign, talking about routines, or what schemes to address. One could hear chatter from all around the table. A colleague turned toward me and said, I want to tell you something.

On Monday morning on the week her eighty-three-year-old mother-in-law died, the closest ones were seated next to the bed in the hospital ward where the old woman had been treated for just over a month. The doctor had called them to inform them about her situation.

The old woman was suffering from a form of blood cancer that for several years had been kept at bay with the help of medication. She had not so much been bothered by this disturbing fact. During her last months, however, the cancer became more aggressive. The doctors said it was no longer possible to treat the disease. The resilience of her body was gone. The old woman had one or maybe two weeks left to live.

After the doctor's visit, they talked briefly about how to take turns at the bedside in order to be with the old woman during the weeks that would follow. Although the bad news was not unexpected since the condition of her mother-in-law was steadily deteriorating, she felt sad and went back to work.

When the workday was over and she got in her car to go home, she turned on the radio to listen to some background music to keep her mind off things. During her almost ten miles of driving, she felt dejected, sad, and homesick. Her husband was going to take the first shift next to his mother's bed.

When the car rolled into the community where they live with something like a mile left, she turned the radio off. Shortly afterwards, a sudden light brightened up and warmed both the car and my colleague while she was still driving! The seat got hot, the gear shift too and even the steering wheel!

In the light, it was too bright to see things clearly. Instead of the usual vision when driving, she saw a big white room. It succumbed to a feast with white porcelain, napkins, and golden candelabras with white lights being illuminated one by one. Then she heard a voice saying, You are sad now. So it is, but we are pleased that Inga-Britta is on her way.

When she drove up outside the house and parked the car, the vision was gone. Taken and dazed, she had never before experienced such a thing. She already had faith that in the afterlife, heaven awaits. God did not have to satisfy her hopes that the sky was expecting her too in the afterlife.

After a few minutes fetched me, I called my husband and told him what I had been shown so he could tell his mother. He did, but she had gotten worse during the day and could not give much feedback. It was not so important. We knew and she knew that heaven was waiting. Later in the evening, my mother-in-law became worse and together we sat next to her bed until she left the mortal life in the morning.

I was amazed. However, it was not just about the incredible story I was told. It was also remarkable that my colleague was talking loud enough for anyone around us to pick up the thread, but I was the only one listening. It was as if we were inside a bubble; us, made alive by the Spirit, the ones that will inherit the Kingdom, the Children of God, seated amongst the others, talking about heaven, and no one listening to a single word of it.

Just think about it.

This prominent researcher, seeing and hearing an astonishing revelation of a warm light taking over the car! The light emanated from the center of the car onto her, then the steering wheel, gearshift and the seat. Then hearing God speak about a matter that most certain awaits the believer: death from the flesh and mercy.⁴

*

So what can one make out of these stories? What was their meaning? There was no obvious congruent idea behind them. So why then occupy space and time to retell them?

I think it is fair to tell the reader exactly what happened before the journey started. Moreover, the three stories were a significant part of my preparations. I think these stories confirm that the Holy Spirit is already working amongst people all around, long before we ever enter the scene of their lives. So, instead of being given two people to accompany me, I was given three stories bearing witness of God's interest in us.

Although it may seem confusing to have such a change of strategy, I did not let myself go discouraged or distracted. After all, to avoid distractions is what walking like a disciple calls forth.

So here I was, starting the journey as a lonesome wanderer, an apostle in the late modern, soon about to move from seat to seat inside shaky coaches, pulled away on railways by great locomotives slowly building up momentum to carry thousands of people towards their goals in life.

For some, it was now time to meet with a messenger of the Holy Spirit.

The Journey

I left one Saturday morning in June. I had but prayed the Lord's prayer, left the apartment building, walked across the square, turned into the first street leading to the train station, when God showed me what I needed t o do.

I saw this man on sight, my counterpart in a rental-matter, inherited, as I was, an assignment as chairperson in a nonprofit organization.

He turned up on the opposite side of the street walking his dogs. There was no one else around. As I drew closer, watching his moves, I saw that he was decisively looking down at the pavement. It was his ways. He probably did not see more than a figure unclear on the other side of the street.

"Father