A Warning To America - Part 7

Around a church that wasn't Moody's, there was an old Moody memorial, I said, I'd like to see Moody's pulpit. And the old organ Sankey played on, you know. She said, well, it's in the basement, she said. So we went down to the basement and we saw there was this plank, you know, with all marks, oh, just a little plank. No wonder God used him, oh my. There was Sankey, the organ that he used, pedal organ that he played when he moved the world to God. Oh, thank God for Moody and Sankey. And then I said after a little prayer, now let's go home. So I'm not a tourist, okay. But now my children and my wife was coming back to America. We were going to have six days in New York. And I thought to myself, well, I know David Wilkerson's church is in Broadway, in Central Manhattan. But I thought, I was looking through different eyes now at New York, you know. Normally I was praying, and I don't wear glasses when I'm praying because I don't see much. And I don't want to see much, so I just don't wear my glasses. What's the point of seeing things, you know, I just want to pray. But now I put my glasses on and I went through New York, oh, that's the Statue of Liberty, you know. I'm going to bring my children. See, I got a bit excited when I thought of bringing them to New York. I mean, it's not sin. A lot is vanity fair, perhaps, but let's face it, it's not sin if you come from Africa to show your children the Statue of Liberty. And there's the Empire State Building. Well, now I know where to get to this, you know. I did a lot of walking and a lot of looking. I got quite excited. Then I went to what you call Times Square in Manhattan, near Broadway with all these theaters in the world, as you know. And, oh, it was in the dark night. New York never goes to sleep. There were thousands. There were tens. Oh, there was, goodness me, I would say close to 50, maybe even up to 100,000. I don't know where they come from all over the world, but it was late when you and I should be in bed. And because they were all awake, I thought, well, I might as well stay awake. The heaven's pretty safe and I'll at least look, you know. So I look at Times Square, oh, the neon lights, it's like another planet, let alone another country. It's just vanity fair, but I know history. I know history like the back of my hand. I know most countries' history better than most people do. Now, you've got to believe that, but I, from a child, just devoured history. I've always loved it. And I knew the significance of Times Square, the great events that happened politically in your history in Times Square. It wasn't the neon lights that attracted me, but I thought, well, it's two of the greatest squares in the world. It's Piccadilly Circus in London and Times Square in New York of the two nations. That's the two greatest squares, the most famous, where more tourists go than anywhere in the whole world through the greatness, the significance historically about that, these great cities. Well, I was walking and suddenly my heart sank because I saw a building suddenly with neon lights that was so filthy, what was being advertised on those neon lights and the other things behind, the lights flared up. I could not believe, I could not believe my eyes that such filth and depravity was so public, and my heart just sank. I said, no, God, no. And I began to cry just at seeing it. If it was so filthy outside, can you imagine how defiled a human would be inside if you walked in? What would be going on inside? With the adverts in there. It was defiling. I turned around and looked around and there was another building. It was worse. Bigger, more lights, worse filth. And I carried on looking around and there was another one, three of them, in Times Square. And I watched men. Some men walked past there as if they were going to pass, you know. Suddenly they pulled their jackets over them and they ran in, hiding their faces. They were ashamed. Someone could take a photograph or some evidence again. They were scared people would recognize them. Others came past and they were so brazen in their sin laughing they just laughed as they walked in, you know. I looked at them and I realized they had no self-respect. A man who can walk into such a place, no one in the world respects that man. That's why he can do it. There's no one left, not even his children, who would bat an eyelid at his filth so he can walk in laughing, no putting his head under the... I looked at them marching and they're laughing with no shame. You lose your honor. You've got nothing left in life, sir. Once you've lost that, you've got nothing. Well, I began to weep aloud and I said, God, I can't bring my children to New York. I looked at all the children. Most people in that Times Square, late hour of the night, it was terribly late, in there thousands and thousands, thronging. Most had children coming from all parts of the world. I suppose the last few minutes before they fly out of your country, they want to see the last thing they can in this place of the world, this Times Square. And I watched the children looking and their mothers and fathers trying to pull their eyes off and they're looking and I thought, no. You defy the child bringing your child to America. You defy your child bringing your child to New York, the greatest city in the world. How do you honestly believe the seeds the devil is going to sow within New York? I said, God, I can't bring my children here. The devil will put things in their mind. There'll be no ending to their repercussions. And I began to weep, but I began to weep louder than I thought I was weeping. I wept so loud that I was standing there sobbing. I sobbed so loud. I was broken. I was so devastated at what America was doing. And I lifted my hands up and I shouted. I didn't know I was shouting. I wasn't trying to be fanatical. I shouted. I cried so loud to God in my devastation, in my anger, that I couldn't bring my children to the city without defiling them. I cried out, God, I'll, God, do anything but close these buildings down, God. They're defiling the children. God, this is defiling. Close these buildings down, God. Close these buildings down, God. They're defiling. I cannot bring my family here, God. Close these buildings down, God. Do anything but close them down. In Jesus Christ's name, I wept. And I suddenly wiped the tears from my eyes. A few hundred people were standing still. I would say a few hundred, could be 500, had stopped close to me just all looking, a deathly silence all around me. And brother, sister, I looked at their faces, most of them, tears were coming down their faces. They'd never in their life seen a man weep over defilement in this generation. They'd never ever seen a man hurting and broken and smashed and crushed to weep and cry after God and devastation as I was. And I looked, and I looked at face upon face, tears. They couldn't move as they heard clearly what I was crying and they knew what I was praying about. I put my head down and just pushed through. Somehow they let me through and I walked on. Three months later, I flew back to New York, to JFK, to the airport. When I arrive in New York, if they aren't there to meet me because of the early flight arrival or getting through customs fast, they've given me a coffee shop, all your leaders that bring me here, these four or five leaders of the Conservative Church of America, they tell me there's a coffee shop there. You wait there and wait there. The people will come to get you. So I saw I was through customs. I went and got a cup of coffee and a newspaper, the USA Today, and I sat down and I put it down and I started to cry again, seconds. Within seconds, I began to start weeping again. Why? On the front page of the newspaper were these words, the day I came back. The mayor of New York says, I will close these buildings down now. I started to cry. The day the man that wept on those streets forgot to close them. Three months later, that day was the day the news came out of that man and printed on your newspaper. That was God saying to this poor man, I don't turn my face away from anyone who weeps and grieves over the wickedness of this world and asks me to deal with it. I read on. This mayor of New York, he's an Italian. He's not saved. But oh, has he got things right that no other mayor's got right in any country in the world, let me tell you. He's the envy of the whole world. 12 million people are in New York, 3%.