Cross and the Switchblade

Cross and the Switchblade

4.4 49
by David Wilkerson, Elizabeth Sherrill, John Sherrill
     
 

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Fifty years ago, when a lanky country preacher stepped onto the gang-ridden streets of New York City, most people thought he had gone over the edge. But David Wilkerson had faith that God was leading him and never looked back. Today his inner-city ministry, Teen Challenge, boasts residential and crisis counseling centers in more than seventy countries. Its Christian

Overview

Fifty years ago, when a lanky country preacher stepped onto the gang-ridden streets of New York City, most people thought he had gone over the edge. But David Wilkerson had faith that God was leading him and never looked back. Today his inner-city ministry, Teen Challenge, boasts residential and crisis counseling centers in more than seventy countries. Its Christian discipleship program has restored hope to tens of thousands of men and women with drug or alcohol addiction.
In this 45th anniversary edition of The Cross and the Switchblade, readers will experience anew the dramatic story that started it all. Since its original 1963 publication, The Cross and the Switchblade has sold more than 15 million copies. Wilkerson's story continues to inspire renewed faith in God's ability to overcome problems that even the most determined human efforts cannot resolve.

Foreword by Charles W. Colson.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780800790707
Publisher:
Baker Publishing Group
Publication date:
05/28/1984
Pages:
226
Product dimensions:
5.40(w) x 8.01(h) x 0.60(d)
Age Range:
16 Years

Read an Excerpt

The Cross and the Switchable

The Greatest Inspirational True Story of All Time
By David Wilkerson

Zondervan

Copyright © 2002 Zondervan All right reserved. ISBN: 0-310-24829-9

Chapter One

This whole strange adventure got its start late one night when I was sitting in my study reading Life magazine, and turned a page.

At first glance, it seemed that there was nothing on the page to interest me. It carried a pen drawing of a trial taking place in New York City, 350 miles away. I'd never been to New York, and I never wanted to go, except perhaps to see the Statue of Liberty.

I started to flip the page over. But as I did, my attention was caught by the eyes of one of the figures in the drawing. A boy. One of seven boys on trial for murder. The artist had caught such a look of bewilderment and hatred and despair in his features that I opened the magazine wide again to get a closer look. And as I did, I began to cry.

'What's the matter with me!' I said aloud, impatiently brushing away a tear. I looked at the picture more carefully. The boys were all teen-agers. They were members of a gang called the Dragons. Beneath their picture was the story of how they had gone into Highbridge Park in New York and brutally attacked and killed a fifteen-year-old polio victim named Michael Farmer. The seven boys stabbed Michael in the back seven times with their knives, then beat him over the head with garrison belts.They went away wiping blood through their hair, saying, 'We messed him good.'

The story revolted me. It turned my stomach. In our little mountain town such things seemed mercifully unbelievable.

That's why I was dumbfounded by a thought that sprang suddenly into my head - full-blown, as though it had come into me from somewhere else.

Go to New York City and help those boys.

I laughed out loud. 'Me? Go to New York? A country preacher barge into a situation he knows less than nothing about?'

Go to New York City and help those boys. The thought was still there, vivid as ever, apparently completely independent of my own feelings and ideas.

'I'd be a fool. I know nothing about kids like that. I don't want to know anything.'

It was no use. The idea would not go away: I was to go to New York, and furthermore I was to go at once, while the trial was still in progress.

* * *

In order to understand what a complete departure such an idea was for me, it is necessary first to know that until I turned that page, mine had been a very predictable life. Predictable, but satisfying. The little mountain church which I served in Philipsburg, Pennsylvania, had grown slowly but steadily. We had a new church building, a new parsonage, a swelling missionary budget. There was satisfaction for me in our growth, because four years earlier when Gwen and I first drove into Philipsburg as candidates for the empty pulpit, the church didn't even have a building of its own. The congregation of fifty members was meeting in a private house, using the upstairs as the parsonage and the downstairs for the sanctuary.

When the Pulpit Committee was showing us around, I remember, Gwen's heel went right through the 'parsonage' floor.

'Things do need fixing up a bit,' admitted one of the church women, a large lady in a cotton print dress. I remember noticing that her hands had little cracks around the knuckles and that the cracks were filled with dirt from farm work. 'We'll just leave you to look around.'

And so Gwen continued her tour of the second floor alone. I could tell by the way she was closing doors that she was unhappy. But the real blow came when she opened a kitchen drawer. I heard her scream and rushed upstairs. They were still there, scurrying about: seven or eight big fat black cockroaches.

Gwen slammed the drawer shut.

'Oh, Dave, I just couldn't!' she cried.

And without waiting for me to answer, she raced to the hall and ran down the stairs, her high heels clacking loudly. I made hurried apologies to the Committee and followed Gwen over to the hotel - the only hotel in Philipsburg - where I found her waiting for me with the baby.

'I'm sorry, honey,' Gwen said. 'They're such nice people, but I'm scared to death of cockroaches.'

She was already packed. It was obvious that as far as Gwen was concerned, Philipsburg, Pennsylvania, would have to find another candidate.

But things didn't work out that way. We couldn't go before evening because I was scheduled to preach the Sunday night service. I don't remember that it was a good sermon. Yet something about it seemed to strike the fifty people in this little house-church. Several of the rough-handed farmers, sitting there before me, were blowing into their handkerchiefs. I wound up the sermon and was mentally getting into my car and driving out through the hills away from Philipsburg when suddenly one old gentleman stood right up in the service and said,

'Reverend Wilkerson, will you come and be our pastor?'

It was a rather unorthodox thing to do, and it caught everyone by surprise, including my wife and me. The people in this small Assembly of God church had been trying to choose between several candidates. They had been dead-locked for weeks, and now old Mr Meyer was taking matters into his own hands and inviting me from the floor. But instead of drawing fire, he found himself surrounded by nodding heads and voices of approval.

'You go outside for a minute and talk it over with your wife,' Mr Meyer said. 'We'll join you.'

Outside in the dark car, Gwen was silent. Debbie was asleep in her wicker basket in the back seat, our suitcase was propped up next to her, packed and ready to go. And in Gwen's silence was a quiet protest against cockroaches.

'We need help, Gwen,' I said hurriedly. 'I think we should pray.'

'Ask Him about those roaches,' Gwen said darkly.

'All right, I'll do just that.'

I bowed my head. There in the dark outside that little church I made an experiment in a special kind of prayer which seeks to find God's will through a sign. 'Putting a fleece before the Lord,' it is called, because Gideon, when he was trying to find God's will for his life, asked that a sign be made with a fleece. He placed a lamb's fleece on the ground and asked Him to send down dew everywhere but there. In the morning, the ground was soaked with dew, but Gideon's fleece was dry: God had granted him a sign.

'Lord,' I said aloud, 'I would like to put a fleece before You now. Here we are ready to do Your will if we can just find out what it is. Lord, if You want us to stay here in Philipsburg, we ask that You let us know by having the Committee vote for us unanimously. And let them decide of their own accord to fix up the parsonage with a decent refrigerator and stove ...'

'And Lord,' said Gwen, interrupting because just then the front door of the church opened and the Committee started toward us, 'let them volunteer to get rid of those cockroaches.'

The whole congregation followed the Committee outside and gathered around the car where Gwen and I now stood. Mr Meyer cleared his throat. As he spoke, Gwen squeezed my hand in the dark.

'Reverend and Mrs Wilkerson,' he said. He paused and commenced again. 'Brother David. Sister Gwen. We've taken a vote and everyone agrees that we want you to be our new pastor. Hundred per cent. If you decide to come, we'll fix up the parsonage with a new stove and things, and Sister Williams says we'll have to fumigate the place.'

'To get rid of those cockroaches,' added Mrs Williams, addressing herself to Gwen.

In the light that streamed over the lawn from the open front door of the church, I could see that Gwen was crying. Later, back in the hotel, after we'd finished with handshaking all around, Gwen said that she was very happy.

* * *

And we were happy in Philipsburg. The life of a country preacher suited me perfectly. Most of our parishioners were either farmers or coal workers, honest, God-fearing and generous. They brought in tithes of canned goods, butter, eggs, milk and meat. They were creative, happy people, people you could admire and learn from.

After I'd been there a little more than a year, we purchased an old baseball lot on the edge of town, where Lou Gehrig had once played ball. I remember the day I stood on home plate, looked out toward the infield, and asked the Lord to build us a church right there with the cornerstone on home plate and the pulpit at shortstop. And that's what happened, too.

We built a parsonage next door to the church, and as long as Gwen was mistress of that house, no vermin had a chance. It was a pretty little five-room pink bungalow with a view of the hills out one side and the white cross of the church out the other.

Gwen and I worked hard in Philipsburg, and we had a certain kind of success. By New Year's Day, 1958, there were 250 people in the parish - including Bonnie, a new little daughter of our own.

And I was restless. I was beginning to feel a kind of spiritual discontent that wasn't satisfied by looking at the new church building on its five acres of hilltop land, or the swelling missionary budget, or the crowding in the pews. I remember the precise night on which I recognized it, as people do remember important dates in their lives. It was February 9, 1958. On that night I decided to sell my television set.

It was late, Gwen and the children were asleep, and I was sitting in front of the set watching the 'Late Show'. The story somehow involved a dance routine in which a lot of chorus girls marched across the set in just-visible costumes. I remember thinking suddenly how dull it all was.

'You're getting old, David,' I warned myself.

But try as I would, I could not get my mind back on the threadbare little story and the girl - which one was it? - whose destiny on the stage was supposed to be a matter of palpitating interest to every viewer.

I got up and turned the knob and watched the young girls disappear into a little dot in the center of the screen. I left the living room and went into my office and sat down in the brown leather swivel chair.

'How much time do I spend in front of that screen each night?' I wondered. 'A couple of hours, at least. What would happen, Lord, if I sold that TV set and spent that time - praying?' I was the only one in the family who ever watched TV anyway.

What would happen if I spent two hours every single night in prayer? It was an exhilarating idea. Substitute prayer for television, and see what happened.

Right away I thought of objections to the idea. I was tired at night. I needed the relaxation and change of pace. Television was part of our culture; it wasn't good for a minister to be out of touch with what people were seeing and talking about.

I got up from my chair and turned out the lights and stood at my window looking out over the moonlit hills. Then I put another fleece before the Lord, one which was destined to change my life. I made it pretty hard on God, it seemed to me, because I really didn't want to give up television.

'Jesus,' I said, 'I need some help deciding this thing, so here's what I'm asking of You. I'm going to put an ad for that set in the paper. If You're behind this idea, let a buyer appear right away. Let him appear within an hour ... within half an hour ... after the paper gets on the streets.'

When I told Gwen about my decision next morning, she was unimpressed. 'Half an hour!' she said. 'Sounds to me, Dave Wilkerson, like you don't want to do all that praying.'

Gwen had a point, but I put the ad in the paper anyhow. It was a comical scene in our living room after the paper appeared. I sat on the sofa with the television set looking at me from one side, the children and Gwen looking at me from another, and my eyes on a great big alarm clock beside the telephone.

Twenty-nine minutes passed by the clock.

'Well, Gwen,' I said, 'it looks like you're right. I guess I won't have to ...'

The telephone rang.

I picked it up slowly, looking at Gwen.

'You have a TV set for sale?' a man's voice asked.

'That's right. An RCA in good condition. Nineteen-inch screen, two years old.'

'How much to you want for it?'

'One hundred dollars,' I said quickly. I hadn't thought about what to ask for it until that moment.

'I'll take it,' the man said, just like that.

'You don't even want to look at it?'

'No. Have it ready in fifteen minutes. I'll bring the money.'

* * *

My life has not been the same since. Every night at midnight, instead of flipping some dials, I stepped into my office, closed the door, and began to pray. At first the time seemed to drag and I grew restless. Then I learned how to make systematic Bible-reading a part of my prayer life: I'd never before read the Bible through, including all the begats. And I learned how important it is to strike a balance between prayer of petition and prayer of praise. What a wonderful thing it is to spend a solid hour just being thankful. It throws all of life into a new perspective.

It was during one of these late evenings of prayer that I picked up Life magazine.

I'd been strangely fidgety all night. I was alone in the house; Gwen and the children were in Pittsburgh visiting grandparents. I had been at prayer for a long time. I felt particularly close to God, and yet for reasons I could not understand I also felt a great, heavy sadness. It came over me all at once and I wondered what it could possibly mean. I got up and turned on the lights in the study. I felt uneasy, as though I had received orders but could not make out what they were.

'What are you saying to me, Lord?'

I walked around the study, seeking to understand what was happening to me. On my desk lay a copy of Life. I reached over and started to pick it up, then caught myself. No, I wasn't going to fall into that trap: reading a magazine when I was supposed to be praying.

I started prowling around the office again and each time I came to the desk my attention was drawn to that magazine.

'Lord, is there something in there You want me to see?' I said aloud, my voice suddenly booming out in the silent house.

I sat down in my brown leather swivel chair and with a pounding heart, as if I were on the verge of something bigger than I could understand, I opened the magazine. A moment later I was looking at a pen drawing of seven boys, and tears were streaming down my face.

The next night was Wednesday prayer meeting at church. I decided to tell the congregation about my new twelve-to-two prayer experiment, and about the strange suggestion that had come out of it.

Wednesday night turned out to be a cold, snowy midwinter evening. Not many people showed up; the farmers, I think, were afraid of being caught in town by a blizzard.

Continues...


Excerpted from The Cross and the Switchable by David Wilkerson
Copyright © 2002 by Zondervan
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Meet the Author

David Wilkerson (1931-2011) was the founder of Teen Challenge and World Challenge and longtime senior pastor of Times Square Church. He authored more than thirty books, including the bestselling The Cross and the Switchblade and Knowing God by Name. He ministered to people worldwide, and on the day of his death, he was still ministering.

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The Cross and the Switchblade 4.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 49 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
What a great book and classic that helped launch a great international ministry. Great is the reward of Pastor Wilkerson who has recently gone on to be with our God in Jesus Christ the Lord. This book really describes the inception of a great ministry and was just really the start of it. One of only three books in this genre that ever saw the light of day in ministry to at risk youth. The publishing world has kept testimonials as this in the dark but a few broke out with the light of the cross and gospel of Jesus Christ. Pastor Wikerson's life was not in vain and his ministry continues on with a legacy of rescued souls that he would give all the credit to Jesus Messiah for.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The story of how David Wilkerson came to found Teen Challenge should be a must read for anyone who follows Jesus Christ. The Cross and the Switchblade describes how Wilkerson put feet on his faith that took him from rural Pennsylvania to the streets of New York City. It's the story of how a pastor followed the leading of the Holy Spirit and reached out to minister to people with whom the churches would not associate.
Wilkerson describes in his book how essential it is to meet the unloved where they are, rather than waiting for them to show up in church all dressed up and ready to worship within the ranks of the clean and respectable. He also rightly emphasizes the importance of follow up, how one can't just expect to go out and distribute tracts or preach from street corners without also developing real, loving relationships with people and ministering to their needs, both spiritually and physically.

Now that Teen Challenge International has grown to over 200 centers around the world, it is interesting to note that the struggle in recovery ministry continues to be much the same: It's extremely difficult to get people to reach out in love to those who have never been loved, and it's nearly impossible to get church members to venture outside their doors to love their neighbors as they love themselves. I thank him for sharing the story of his work. The Cross and the Switchblade is a little dated in communicating to young people. The problems remain the same and the good news of the Gospel transends time.
1984Bruin More than 1 year ago
Anyone interested in God, gangs, inner city missions or what faith can do NEEDS to read this remarkalbe story...based on TRUE events. David Wilkerson wanted to take the Gospel to a bunch of inner city gang memebers he heard about, and in following God's prompting has changed the lives of countless people...those he ministerd to in the city and those people who have read his story.

It is also a movie worth watching...w/ Pat Boone in the leading role and a VERY young Erik Estrada as the toughest gang member, Nicky Cruz...the subject of the book Run Baby, Run.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This is the best book I ever read. The most encouraging book I ever read. Absolutely incredible!!!!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Do you think you're TOO BAD for God to love you? READ THIS BOOK! Have you always doubted God's existence? READ THIS BOOK! Do you think that God has turned His back on the poor and downtrodden of this world? READ THIS BOOK! Dave Wilkerson, a country preacher, 'heard' a calling on him as he was reading Life Magazine. Though he tried to ignore it, the Voice was calling him to Bedford-Stuyvesant, a terribly poor and crime-ridden section of New York City. He obeyed the call. He had no idea what he would encounter. 'Had he known, he may have thought twice! Praise God he didn't!' The result was the start of Teen Challenge Centers -- 'alternative' treatment centers for the drug-addicted -- which are now located worldwide. These Centers are quite successful in getting addicts off drugs without medication. 'I'd rather not spoil any of that for you -- you should really read it for yourself!' That first trip to New York changed Dave Wilkerson's life, and the lives of literally thousands of others. 'Wait until you read about Nicky! He is Nicky Cruz, a now well-known evangelist with quite a message of his own!' Keep in mind that this is a true story! 'The beginning of this story took place nearly 50 years ago -- contrary to the 30 years ago that one reviewer mentioned.' If you'll allow it, this book will change your heart forever! Dave Wilkerson answered the universal call 'which, sadly, not many of us do', and that's to love one another, to carry one another's burdens. I haven't done this book justice in this review. There are many things that happened that a reader simply must read and experience for himself. I do encourage you to read it. I assure you, you won't regret it. All these years later, it is just as powerful as it was when it was first written.
Guest More than 1 year ago
My grandfather gave me this book and it is a good story. Gangs actually use to fight at one time. Wow, these guys were pretty brave and crazy. Today they just shoot and run. I like how the guys became friends with the Preacher and the postive influence he had on them. This was a good story, a long time like back in my Grand Pops day but I could not put it down.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I received this small book as a graduation present years ago. I could not stop reading once I started. The testimony shared in this book changed the way I viewed God's ability to move right here in our very own backyard. He is incredible! Be careful with this book--it might change your life!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Proof that Jesus Christ changes lives!!! Hallelujah!
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Leslie has quickly become my favorite author. I read 2-3 books a week and Ilove her work. This story is fast paced andwell written. As a retired firefighter from Savannah i understand both the characters and the setting. It is so worth the time and cost to read this book.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I have had the oportunity to read many inspirational christian books in my life. But these book is on a league of it's own. The greatest exmaple i've read till these point on how to live by the guiadence of the Holy Spirit. R.I.P. Reverend Wilkerson. Your legacy lives on in the pages of these amazing book.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Insirational. The love of God for the human race is incredible!!
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It all went down like this over forty years ago and could just as easily have been written today. David Wilkerson followed God's call to work with "lost" children, and the work continues today. Miracles do still occur, and Wilkerson has witnessed them. His story about the inner city gangs of New York is gripping, but the fact that his "Teen Challenge" centers may be found all over the world is just as gripping. An incredible story.
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This book shows hope where there is no hope. Light where there is darkness and love where there is bitter anger and hatred. Love and God can grow in a place that has no sunshine to nourish it. As long as you have faith, you can work under any situation and succeed!!!
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Cheeta Pearson More than 1 year ago
This+book+is+an+awesome+testimony+of+what+faith+in+God+can+do%21+%0A
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