To Church Members Who Love Jesus

Are you a church member who loves Jesus? If you are, I know you care about the people sitting around you. Would you be surprised to find out that many around you in church have never met Jesus? Most of the people I lead to Christ, went to church at some point during their lives but left without ever meeting Jesus personally. When you go to church, look around, talk to the people next to you, and make sure they do not leave church without knowing Jesus. Click on the link to hear stories from just one week of ministry. To Church Members Who Love Jesus

Have You Prayed To Find It

Aunt Ka Ka

Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. Jer 29:12-13 NIV

"Have you prayed about it?" Aunt Ka Ka asked. I was surprised at myself. I'd searched for and whined about my lost watch but I had not asked God to find my watch.


I love my Timex watch.  It has an alarm, tells the time in 2 time zones and has multiple ways to time things.  It does other things as well, but I haven’t figured those out yet.  The best part about my Timex is that it is cheap and if I lose it, I can go to a Wal*Mart Super Center (my favorite store) and buy another. 

I also love my gold watch.  Years ago, when Bob and I were young executives, we bought each other gold watches.  I’m not talking about the color gold.  I mean the real deal – the metal gold.  After years of wear, it still looks the same.  All it does is tell time.  It doesn’t have numbers on it and it runs a little slow but I love it anyway.  When I look at it, I remember that exciting time in our lives when we were just starting our careers.  Unfortunately, if I lose that watch, I most likely will never get another one. 

When I was getting ready to leave for the International Christian Retailers Show, at the last minute, I took off my Timex and put on my gold watch.  I hadn’t worn the gold watch in over a year because the Timex works much better for my current career.  I hesitated as I put it on, knowing the features I would giving up but I figured that if I didn’t wear it for special events like this, there was no point in having it. 

I went through the week being careful about my watch.  I had to remind myself every morning that unlike my Timex, the gold watch didn’t need or like a shower.  I checked the catch on the watch continually.  On the last night of the show, one of the vendors at the show hosted a complimentary offsite dinner and a Cirque de So lei show.  I left the convention center at 5:00 PM and went to my room to work.  The show started at 7:30 PM.  I walked the 3 blocks to the show and checked my watch at 7:00 PM to make sure I wasn’t late. 

I groaned as I saw the line that circled a city block.  It wasn’t moving.  I tried to look chipper as I shuffled past fellow attendees to get to the end of the line.  We stood in the sweltering dry Colorado heat for over an hour and I wondered how the homeless people we passed stood it.  When I got to the front of the line, I realized what was taking so long.  Attendants were taking each person’s cell phone and camera and putting them into small plastic bags with our names taped to the bag.  The bags were being deposited into brown cardboard boxes.  I thought about the precious pictures on my camera and the irreplaceable phone numbers stored in my phone and suddenly wasn’t in the mood for Cirque de So lei.  When I found out they were not serving any food I could eat, that was the last straw.  I along with many others left the line and went in search of dinner.

I headed to 16th Street remembering a restaurant I wanted to try.  As I walked the six blocks, I was struck by the contrast between the emaciated tattered homeless and the suited and stylish elite.  Two men shoved each other while a smartly dressed woman’s high heels clicked past without noticing.  A crying woman with stringy matted hair lay prostrate along a city wall wailing to an unhearing crowd.  When I asked if she needed help, the venomous words that spewed from her mouth sent me scurrying along my way. 

Finally, I arrived at my destination.  Wilted and desperate to sit, I agreed to be served in the bar and asked for water.  As the cool water relieved my parched throat, I looked at my hand and realized my watch was gone.  I searched under my chair and in my bag.  It was really gone.  My hunger and thirst became secondary to finding the watch.  I leapt out of my chair and began retracing my steps without bothering to tell my waitress I was leaving.  There were so many feet along the sidewalk that I could hardly see the concrete. 

I guess misery loves company because I called Bob.  Without even a hello, I said, “I lost my gold watch.”

“What?” he shouted with a voice that echoed what I felt. 

“Did you not hear me?” was my smart reply. 

“How?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“Where?”  he asked.  Bob isn’t much for words when he’s surprised.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be walking the streets of Denver searching.” 

“I thought you were going to a show,” he said confused.  I filled him in on my nightmare in line.  “Why did they want your camera and cell phone?” 

“I don’t know that either,” I said, "But I suspect it had something to do with not wanting us to take pictures.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” he said.  “What did you do for dinner?”

“I haven’t eaten.” 

“But it’s almost nine,” he said worriedly. 

“Bob, I couldn’t swallow,” I responded. 

“I guess not,” he answered sympathetically.  While it took him a moment, he became the supporting spouse I depend on.  “Please stop and eat anyway.  You’re going to pass out.” 

“I can’t stop,” I explained.  “There’s no hope of finding the watch but I have to search.”  I described the homeless to him as I retraced my steps.  It was getting dark and I grew nervous as I turned off the busy 16th street and walked back to where I stood in line.  I stopped a policeman and asked if a watch had been turned in and he just laughed.  When I arrived back to where I had waited in line, I asked the show attendants but they were too busy putting the thousand phones and cameras in alphabetical order to pay me any attention.  Dejectedly, I walked the 3 blocks back to the hotel room with poor Bob still on the phone.  We were both pretending he was protecting me. 

“I’m too tired,” I told him.  “I keep losing things.  I think I’m getting sick.” 

“What are you going to do about dinner?” he repeated for the third time. 

“I’m ordering room service.  I don’t care what it costs.”  He agreed.  We said our goodbyes when I arrived at my hotel elevator.  “I’m sorry you lost your watch,” he said as he hung up.  I took the elevator upstairs and ordered a vegetable salad, six shrimp, and ice water to be delivered to my room.  When the food arrived, I signed the $28 tab. 

As the evening progressed, I cycled quickly through the phases of grief.  I called Bob an hour later with the news that losing the watch didn’t matter because I didn’t like the watch anyway.  “My Timex is better.  I don’t need gold watches any more and now I don’t have to worry about it.  Besides, it hurt my wrist when I used the computer.”  Bob just listened. 

I called him an hour later crying.  Poor Bob.  There was a two-hour time difference between Colorado and Florida.  “I really did like the watch and I miss it.  I didn’t bring my Timex so I don’t even have a watch with me.  Every time I look at my wrist to check the time, I remember it is gone.”  Bob laughed and said he guessed the denial phase of grief was over and I was into depression. 

“I’ll never buy another one,” I whined, secretly hoping Bob would offer to replace it.

“Probably not,” he agreed. 

“At least when I get to heaven, there will be streets of gold,” I said as I hung up.  I slept fitfully.  I woke up the next morning with perspective.  I was moving into the acceptance phase grief.  After all, it was only a watch.  I’d given it a few hours of grief but it was time to move on. 

I called Bob again.  “If the streets of heaven are lined with gold, does that mean my watch was made out of heaven’s asphalt?”  Bob just laughed and I wondered what time it was in Florida. 

As I left my hotel, I remembered that I hadn’t asked the restaurant about the watch.  I sighed as I realized I had to walk to 16th Street once again.  When I arrived at the restaurant I asked, “Have you found a gold watch.” 

“Yes, we have,” beamed the perky hostess.  My heart raced.  She pulled the watch from behind the counter and showed me a cheap tarnished silver watch.  My heart sank. 

“That’s not my watch,” I said as I turned and left.  Oh well, I thought.  It sure would have been nice if that had been my watch.

As I walked to the convention center, I couldn’t help but think about the watch.  It had been a good watch and had seen me through many vicissitudes.  It symbolized the hope of a young newly married couple in their future.  I thought back on our thirty-five years of marriage.  That future had been even brighter than we had imagined.  I thanked God for a man that I loved more today than when I married him.  I thanked God for our children, grandson, careers, and many other blessings. 

Then, I called my Aunt Ka Ka and Uncle Bobby and told them about my loss.  My Aunt Ka Ka has been comforting me for my entire life. I have always been able to count on her to understand, sympathize, correct me when I’m wrong, and love me no matter what.  Aunt Ka Ka ends every phone call with the words, “I love you.”

“Have you prayed to find it?”  Aunt Ka Ka urgently asked after hearing the tale of woe. 

“Well,” I answered evasively.  “I prayed that if a homeless person found it, they would figure out it was valuable and benefit from it.” 

“You’re a good person,” Aunt Ka Ka assured.  “But have you prayed to find it?”

“No,” I admitted. 

“You are too trusting!” Uncle Bobby said.  “Someone probably lifted it from your wrist.”  Uncle Bobby worries about me and I’ve figured out that my solo travels are good for his prayer life. 

“I thought about that,” I admitted.  “I took several pictures for a man that stood in line with me.  Our hands brushed twice as he handed me his cell phone to snap his picture.”

“No!” Aunt Ka Ka instructed.  “Your Uncle Bobby and I are going to pray now.  You walk over to lost and found at the convention center and ask if they have your watch.”

“Aunt Ka Ka,” I said gently.  “I didn’t lose it at the convention center.  I looked at my watch at 7:00 last night.  That was after I left the convention center.  I lost it on the streets of Denver.”

“I still think someone stole it,” Uncle Bobby repeated. 

“No!” Aunt Ka Ka said to Uncle Bobby.  “Don’t make her doubt that she is going to find that watch!  We’re going to pray and she is going to find it.  Cheryle – you go find out where lost and found is and ask if they have your watch!” 

Over the years, I’ve learned not to argue with my aunt.  Being the ever obedient niece, I walked over to the convention center to ask about the watch.  A security guard directed me to lost and found.  “Have you found a gold watch?” I asked the petite brown haired young woman behind the counter.

“Describe it,” she said.  Did I dare hope?  I remembered the restaurant and wondered how many watches she had. 

“It’s bright gold with a narrow band and a small face,” I said. 

She pulled out a big box and fished out my tiny watch from among the wallets, watches, shirts, toys, and keys.  “Is this it?” 

I was stunned.  I couldn’t answer her or take the watch.  Finally, I blurted, “I can’t believe you have my watch.  It’s real fourteen karat gold.  I didn’t lose it at the Convention Center.  How did you get it?” 

She laughed as she tried to hand me the watch.  “I have no idea,” she said.  “A woman stopped by here a few minutes ago looking for her gold watch and was disappointed when I showed her this one.” 

“She didn’t have her Aunt Ka Ka praying for her watch,” I laughed as the tears flowed freely down my face.  I told this woman my story and she listened with interest. 

As I left the booth, trying to put the watch on with shaking hands, I tried to decide whom to call first.  I made the decision that Bob deserved the first call for listening patiently and kindly (mostly) to the entire cycle of my saga.  “I can’t believe it.  I have to admit that I prayed this morning that you would find the watch,” Bob said in wonder.  I wondered why we were both so surprised that God answered prayer.  

Next, I called my aunt.  “They had the watch,” I announced. 

Aunt Ka Ka was not surprised by God’s answer.  “Isn’t God good to us?  We’ve been praying.”  Like I had any doubt.

Yes, God was kind enough to return a watch made from what He uses as asphalt.  My heart sang with the knowledge that the real gift was in giving me a supportive and loving and husband and an aunt and uncle who loved me enough to pray for me and teach me about faith.  When I got home the next day, I traded my gold watch for my faithful Timex.  My gold watch sits collecting dust on a shelf waiting to be needed.

The Rest of The Story

By Cheryle M. Touchton
The Pocket Full of Quarters Lady


What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off?  And if he finds it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost. Matt 18:12-14 NIV

We knew God cared about the one lost sheep but on Day 2 of the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival, we got a demonstration of that scripture. My sister-in-law and evangelism partner, Louise Milligan and I started the morning evangelizing with Riley Stephenson, the Head of Global Evangelism for Kenneth Copeland Ministries, and my nephew and Louise’s son, Bill Milligan. We’d had fun tag teaming as we led people to Jesus but we knew we’d reach more people by splitting into two teams.

We reached a cross road on the festival ground and Riley said, “Bill, let’s go lead them to Jesus.” They turned left towards a lemonade stand and we went straight. We didn’t expect to see Riley and Bill again until the end of the day.

Louis and I had inadvertently worn the colors of the Bonnaroo staff. As we walked, we heard, “Where can we fill our water bottles?” We turned to see two dusty scruffy looking young men, one with dreadlocks much like Bill’s.

We turned and one said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I saw your yellow shirts and thought you could help us.”

Louise had just filled her water bottle so she knew the answer.  “Do you see that blue dome over there? That’s where you go.”

“You mentioned us helping you,” I said. “We can help. We can help you find a relationship with Jesus. Bonnaroo is a dangerous place and I’ve already met someone today who overdosed and had to be revived. If something happened to you and you didn’t live through Bonnaroo, do you know where you would go in the next life?”

Their answers let us know that they needed Jesus so we spoke the sweet gospel scriptures to them. When it got time to lead them in a prayer to receive Jesus, the young man wearing dreadlocks abruptly turned and left, without saying a word.

“What is your name?” I asked the remaining man.

“Sam,” he answered.

“Pray with me,” I invited.

Sam recoiled, began shaking his head, and backed up. I was sure he was not going to pray. About that time, his friend walked back over said, “Let’s pray. Let’s do this.”

Louise and I were stunned. We had no idea what had caused this change of heart but we were not asking questions.

“Sam, your friend wants to pray with us. Join us.”

We waited as Sam considered his options. Finally he said, “Sure, why not.”

After they prayed to receive Jesus, I saw Bill and Riley standing about 20 feet away, praying for us. We walked over to them to share our amazing story and that was when we heard the “rest of the story.”

The man wearing dreadlocks had spotted Bill behind us. Seeing his dreadlocks, he bolted over to Bill and said, “Hey man, you got doses?” Bill explained that “doses” was the code word for LSD.

“No brother,” Bill said. “I can’t give you doses but I can offer you Jesus.” Bill handed the man a tract titled You Are Loved.

The dreadlocked drug seeking man opened the tract, glanced at it briefly, and without a word bolted back to us to pray to meet the Jesus who had obviously gone to a lot of trouble to bring him into the fold.

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All I Can Offer You in Jesus

By Cheryle M. Touchton
The Pocket Full of Quarters Lady


In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:2 KJV

Daddy and Bill at Graduation

Picture a full head of hair with long dark perfect ringlets that fall into place regardless of what you do with it. What if you didn’t need perms, color, or combs? What if you just woke up with perfect hair every day? That is what grows on my nephew Bill Milligan’s head. When he allowed it to grow naturally, everywhere we went, girls his age reached out and touched it. He’d grin and the conversation would begin. What could any young man enjoy more? 

Imagine my surprise when Bill decided to grow dreadlocks. To grow dreadlocks, you have to take strands of hair and tease them upward towards the roots until they mat together into individual locks. It takes months to grow and requires much attention. It isn’t that I mind dreadlocks. I actually find them interesting. It is just that if I had his hair, I would never touch it.

What I did not know about dreadlocks is how useful they would be for evangelism. Apparently, dreadlocks are common among certain cultures where many need to know the Savior. Bill has been traveling with me for a week and those dreadlocks have been drawing people to us.

“Hey man,” two Bonnaroo concert attendees said to Bill. “You got drugs?”

Bill smiled warmly. “No brother, but I can offer you a free mansion in heaven.”

“What about cocaine? You got any?”

“All I can offer you is Jesus,” Bill said. “Romans says that all have sinned and fallen short. The wages of sin is death. The gift of God is eternal life. All who call on the name of Jesus as Lord will be saved. Take a look at this prayer and let’s pray it together.”

Bill leaned close, showed them the written salvation prayer, and those young men confessed their sin, their belief in Jesus, and invited Jesus into their lives.

I saw it all. I even took a picture. Bill gave them tracts and when they walked away, Bill stood stunned. When he saw me, he walked over excitedly.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, with shaking hands. “I didn’t think they would pray. I thought they wouldn’t want to hear it. I didn’t expect them to pray but they did.”

“I know,” I said. “I saw it all. I even took a picture.” I showed him the picture.

“That feeling you are having is the Holy Spirit,” I explained. “It is the most wonderful feeling in the world. He flowed through you and into them. It is an anointing. You’ve got it.”

Before the night was over, Bill had led 13 people to Jesus.

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I Don’t Sell Timeshares – I Sell Mansions

By Cheryle M. Touchton
The Pocket Full of Quarters Lady

In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:2 KJV

I have the coolest job in the world. I sell free mansions built on streets of gold. My husband Bob usually thinks my job is cool too, but it often involves weeks without seeing me. We try to plan romantic weekends about every three weeks. He was due to arrive the following Saturday and I worried a little about how I was going to explain why touring a timeshare was going to be a part of his romantic weekend in Sedona.

People often invite me to meet with their unsaved or spiritually confused or troubled friends and relatives. I’m always amazed at their courage for taking such a risk. I do my best to honor them, as does the Holy Spirit. I was eagerly awaiting two such appointments the following day.

I got an email about one of the meetings. “He’s excited about the meeting but asked if you sold timeshares.”

I emailed back, “I don’t sell timeshares. I sell mansions.”

I had been out all day and was hot and tired. It was 5:30 PM and time to return to my tiny hotel room for my microwave dinner. I’d been in Sedona for 10 days and there was still no news on camper repairs. No one had prayed to receive Jesus in two days and I confess to fighting discouragement. I couldn’t face going to the lonely four walls so early so I guiltily decided to spend the extra money to eat out.

New Christians

 Dinner was delicious. The two women next to me were from Florida and I was happy to talk about home. While they believed in Jesus, neither went to church, were sure about eternity, or had a relationship with Him. By the end of the dinner, they had prayed to receive Jesus. I left feeling vindicated about my decision to eat out.




As I stepped outside, two men asked where I was from. That’s my line, I thought and decided to be a good sport. They were actually working inside a tiny shop that appeared as if they were selling Sedona tours. Since Bob was coming to town for a romantic weekend, I thought a tour might be a good idea.

As I looked at tours, the man wearing the nametag Alan said, “What if I could get you that for free.”

I went to laughing. “You’re selling timeshares, aren’t you?”

“Well,” Alan hesitated, looking sheepish. “I’m certainly setting up timeshare tours but if you will just spend 90 minutes on a tour, you can get that dinner for free.”

“If I listen to your sales pitch, you have to listen to mine,” I joked. “I sell the best product there is. I’m a Christian and help people have eternal life with Jesus. I had someone ask today if I sold timeshares. I told them, ‘No, I sell mansions.’ The Bible says we get a mansion in heaven.” 

“It’s only fair for you to get to give your sales pitch," they said agreeably. “Listen to us and we’ll listen to you.”

“I won’t buy a timeshare,” I warned. “We don’t even know where we will be living next month. I have to take care of that before I think about timeshares. Besides, I’m a Christian and it would be unethical of me to take your tour just for free tickets.”

“That’s OK,” the man called John Wayne (it was his first and middle name) said. “This is for marketing. You know lots of people. Even if you don’t buy, you could tell others. That would make it worth it.”

“And you know a lot of people too,” I teased. “If you meet Jesus, you could tell a lot of people about Jesus.” This time they gave a big belly laugh.

“When is your husband coming to town?” Alan asked. We checked logistics and the only thing that worked was a helicopter tour.

I must have looked nervous because he said, “They have a perfect safety record.”

“Seriously,” I said, looking at the cost of the helicopter ride. “I’m really not going to buy a timeshare. I should not waste anymore of your time.”

“That’s OK,” John Wayne said. “I make my $40 just for sending you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that? I’m in ministry and I help people. I would take the timeshare tour just to help you make the $40 dollars. I’ll do this but you have to let me tell you about Jesus first.”

They agreed.

It was my turn to talk. Alan had no idea where he would go in the next life. John Wayne said he’d been pretty good and he really hoped he would go to heaven.

“A good choice,” I quipped. “That certainly beats the alternative.” They both laughed again.

“Have you been perfect?” I asked. His answer was a big fat no.

“We’ve all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God,” I whispered. “The wages of sin is death and the gift of God is eternal life. My favorite line in the entire Bible is that all who call on the name of the Lord Jesus will be saved. Being good will not get you into heaven, but calling on Jesus will.”

I stopped and watched before adding, “The really cool thing about calling on Jesus is that you only need faith the size of a tiny mustard seed to do it. God will fill in the rest.”

John Wayne was under conviction. I could see it in his face. Alan was politely smiling but I knew his answer

John Wayne

was going to be no.

“Can I lead you in a prayer asking God to be your savior? I promise, I’m going to sign up for the timeshare tour whether you say the prayer or not.”

They both laughed again. John Wayne eagerly agreed to pray.

 “Let him pray. I have to watch the store,” Alan said.

“No one is here and you don’t have to close your eyes,” I encouraged.

“I need to watch the store,” he said.

Understanding, I quietly said, “When John Wayne is finished praying, I’ll give you something that has the prayer on. You can look at it later.”

John Wayne reverently repeated the words I asked him to pray. When I said the words “I believe Jesus rose from the dead,” he hesitated slightly and I waited.

Finally, he nodded and slowly repeated the words.

The next line I asked him to pray was, “I believe, help me in my unbelief.”

John Wayne looked up, a little startled. “It’s right from the Bible,” I said. “It is for people like you who believe, but still have some doubt.”

He nodded his approval and gratefully emphasized that part of the prayer.

 “Come into my life and be my Lord and Savior. In Jesus’ name, Amen,” he quietly finished. He looked stunned.

“That is the Holy Spirit you are feeling,” I gently explained.

“I feel good,” he said in wonder.

“I know,” I said.

It was time to fill out the long and complicated forms for touring a timeshare. John Wayne’s hands were trembling so much that I took the paper from him and filled it out, giving way more personal information then I intended to. I remembered the words,Do not love the world, as I envisioned the difficulties of identity theft. At least they didn’t ask for my social security number. When asked for $20 to hold my spot, I hesitated. They assured me it would be refunded if I showed up. I knew it might be a scam but it was worth $20 to give the gospel. I handed them the $20, only wishing I’d had 2 rolls of quarters to give them.

I gave Alan a tract. “We could still do this,” I offered.

“I’ll level with you,” Alan said. “I’ve prayed prayers something like that many times but it didn’t work. I used to teach youth Bible Studies. I just gave it all up.”

“You said prayers like this,” I said. “There is an important line in that prayer that you might not have prayed. It makes all the difference in the world and in eternity. Have you ever asked Jesus to be your Lord and Savior? Until you do that, Jesus might be a neighbor that you know is good but He isn’t your family.”

“Maybe not,” Alan said, looking almost hopeful. “I will try that tonight.” He took the tract. “You’re a really cool lady.”

Poor Bob. On the way back to the hotel, I called to let him know that part of his romantic weekend was going to include a timeshare tour.

“We’re taking the tour for Jesus,” I said, babbling out the story. “And we’re taking a helicopter tour. They promise it is safe.”

“Only my wife…,” was his response. Bob is a good sport.

No, I do not sell timeshares but I do admire a good sales person and these charming men were certainly good. Yes, I admit to be good at giving good news and helping people say yes to it. “Selling” Jesus is easy and I make no apologies for doing it. After all, who doesn’t want a want a free mansion built on streets of gold?


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Did You Know - What a Cairn Is?

Cairn In a Tree

Cairn in a Man Made Arch

By Cheryle M. Touchton
The Pocket Full of Quarters Lady

I learned a new word this week – Cairn. A Cairn is a word used in mostly English speaking countries. It refers to a man made pile of stones.  I saw them for the first time on Saturday.

On Saturday, I went hiking in Sedona, Arizona with my friends Susie and Gene Emery. They live in Phoenix and had driven down for the weekend to join me in evangelizing.  Since we all like hiking and this is the busy season for Sedona, we decided to evangelize on the trails along the Red Rocks.

Gene and Susie

“Have you seen the park with the Cairns?” Susie asked.

“What is a Cairn?” I asked.

“It is a pile of stones that someone builds,” said Susie. “There are lots of them in a park here.”

We drove onto the amazing Upper Loop Road. The mountains of red rocks took our breath away. When we came to a ranch called, Red Rock Crossing, Susie pointed and said excitedly, “That’s it. Turn there.”

I’d been on that road many times. In fact, Belle and I had just been on it the day before. Because Red Rock Crossing was called a ranch, I didn’t realize it was a public park there for me to enjoy.

We had to wait in line to go in. The parking lot was full. The cars formed a line and when a car left, they allowed another one in. The waiting added to our excitement. Finally, it was our turn to go in.

Cheryle and Susie

We parked, grabbed our water, and went hiking. We walked along a river flowing beside a backdrop of red rocks. People were everywhere, biking, swimming, hiking, and frolicking. We stopped and talked as we meandered along.

We gave the gospel to a challenging young couple who believed their afterlife involved their mind making its way to the planet that that attracted it. We offered comfort to a grieving family gathered to honor their deceased husband, father, and friend. We asked and gave directions. We gave the gospel to two very tattooed young mothers. It was a day of sowing seeds.

“There’s one!” Susie suddenly exclaimed. “A Cairn.”

I looked over and saw a tiny pile of stones that looked a little like a snowman. 

“There is one in the tree!” Susie said pointing again. I looked up and sure enough, someone had managed to balance round stones on a tree limb.

Cairn Field

We walked around the corner and there were hundreds of them. They were on logs, in trees, and on the ground. Some were simple piles. Others were amazing engineering feats. One was an arch that we could not figure out what held it together.

People bent over to build their own so we decided to join the fun. Suzie and I added a rock to a pile. Hers stayed on much better than mine. 

The word “Cairn” comes from a Scottish Gaelic word. You can find them all over the world on mountaintops, on sea cliffs, in deserts, along rivers, and in tundra areas. Some are tiny with three or four stones and some tower several feet tall.

Apparently, someone comes along and builds something with rocks. Someone else sees it and builds ones of their own. Soon, like Red Rock Crossing, Cairns pepper the terrain. How have I traveled so much and never seen them before? I thought you would find them as interesting as I did.

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Trust God that the Harvest Is Ripe

By Cheryle M. Touchton
The Pocket Full of Quarters Lady


I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest. Even now the reaper draws his wages, even now he harvests the crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together. Thus the saying 'One sows and another reaps' is true. I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor."  John 4:35-38 NIV


Are you surprised at my willingness to take the gospel into places like rock concerts, Mardi Gras, and drunken college block parties? Many are. They think it hard. I have to admit, sometimes it is. I’ve been hit, yelled at, and ignored. I usually spend weeks afterwards suffering from sinus trouble from all the dust, cigarette, and pot smoke. I work long days and my feet hurt. I’m willing because the harvest is even riper than the smell of their unwashed bodies.

You may be surprised, but I find that going into a 4-day drunken loud rock concert in the middle of a cow pasture in 95 degree weather is a picnic compared to trying to share the gospel in places where New Age, the Occult, the paranormal, magic, and/or astrology dominate the culture.

The places dominated by what many call “New Age” are usually beautiful, deceivingly peaceful, and a magnet for tourists. You can recognize them by magic shops, unusual temples, offerings for spiritual readings, and stores with crystals and rocks in the windows. You see women, usually in their forties or fifties, attired in dressy casual but marked with colorful free flowing long skirts and dramatic jewelry, taking potential clients to meals to discuss developing their mind, body, and spirit.

This culture is big business. This culture actually started in the mid 20th century and many are highly educated in the practice. There are organized and popular conferences led by people with advanced degrees in the differing New Age nuances that include science, the paranormal, the occult, the blend of many religions, astrology, psychology, and magic. Gift shops carry their product lines of crystals, crystal balls, wands, charts, and various stones containing the secrets to the universe. The practitioners charge fees for their services much like a doctor or an attorney and many visit these cities for the primary purpose of working with these practitioners.

Sedona, Arizona is such a place. In fact, many consider it the heart of the paranormal and occult in America and even the world. There are portals, vortexes, healings, and readings advertised everywhere. I’ve visited similar cities in California, Utah, and West Virginia, to name just a few.

I’ve been in Sedona ten days. My hotel is right between a New Age Temple and Training Center and a  church that has statues of Jesus, Mary, various goddesses, and Buddha in it. I overheard one woman, who was at dinner with a potential client, talk about the energy in the tongue and why she has her clients lick the rocks. People here carry crystals and visit vortexes for energy. One man told me my vortex was the Ringing Rock in Pennsylvania. I had to look up vortex and Ringing Rock. There is indeed a Ringing Rock Park that features rocks that sound like a bell when they are struck. A vortex is a spinning, often turbulent, flow of fluid. Sedona is reported to have several "vortexes of subtle energy." If you visit them, it is said that you feel better for days. Since most people who travel with me say I have too much energy all ready, I am not sure I need to visit these.

When I told one woman what I did, she asked, “Can you make a living doing this? Maybe I should think about doing what you do.”

“I’m in ministry,” I said, smiling. “I do this because I love God and people. I made a lot of money in the corporate world but gave that up to do this.” She did not understand and was no longer interested in doing what I do.

Anger and even bitterness at the words “Jesus” or “Christian” abounds. Eyes narrow at a hint of Bible quotes. I see shoulders tense. One man said angrily, “I used to be like you. The only reason you ask me about my afterlife is because you aren’t sure about yours. No one can be sure. I used to be just like you, believing all that Bible stuff (but he used a different “s” word) – now I’ve found the truth.”

I’ve had multiple people tell me that after they die, their mind is going to find its way to the planet that most attracts it. I've been told that since we came to be by an explosion of the stars, we will return to them. Some say they connect with the energy of the rocks and let it flow through them, giving them magical powers. Some believe the rocks are portals for aliens from other planets. Many started out a professed Christian but feel they have moved beyond it. One man even quoted the scripture where we are promised that we will be able to do everything Jesus did and more. He said the things they do in Sedona are the "more." He also said that by using all the other gods, he gained more power.

The response to the gospel is heart breaking. To be among so many hardened, dull, or angry eyes is frightening. I’ve given the gospel many times since I've been here. I’ve had 6 people pray to receive Jesus in 10 days. I’ve felt the conviction of the Holy Spirit several other times but the people said no – for now. I’ve talked with Christians who are gradually letting the philosophy of the culture seep into their love relationship with Jesus and I want to weep at the sadness I see in their eyes. The most painful thing for me is knowing that everything they are seeking and more is available through Jesus.

Taking Jesus into places so entrenched in this way of thinking is the absolute hardest part of my job. It is so hard, I have trouble enjoying the natural beauty of such places. This philosophy has such a hold on the residents’ mind, body, and spirit that it feels fruitless to speak the gospel and yet I know the word of God will not return void. Even if I don’t have many call on the name of Jesus (6 in the 10 days I've been here,) I suspect giving the gospel in these "spirituality" magnets is the most important part of my work and I invite you to join me as I do it.

In the past, I have led some New Age followers to Christ, but I’ve found that it takes many “touches” before even a tiny crack of willingness opens in their mind, body, and spirit. Each of us who gives the gospel is part of those needed “touches.”

If you visit places like this, I beg you – don’t give up on or judge the people who practice these arts. Please, love them and be one of those “touches.” Be willing to love the people enough to risk the anger and rejection for the sake of their soul. Be gentle. Speak the scripture. Don’t argue or defend your faith or the word of God. Never preach, criticize, roll your eyes, sigh, or judge – just offer the gospel of love. Invite them to meet Jesus. Give them something to read. Don’t take the rejection personally. Trust God that he is more powerful than even the most hardened mind – after all – he is the Rock of Ages. Trust that the word of God will not return empty and speak scripture.

The harvest is ripe, even in beautiful cities taken over by darkness. Some sow and some reap and if all are faithful, we will joyfully bring in the harvest.


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