Mike Evans in Lebanon ministering to soldiers

  I read this testimony and I thought I would share this since it is so great!!
                             Mike Evans in Lebanon ministering to soldiers ,
  Jerusalem Prayer Team
"On October 23, 1983, twenty-nine years ago today, I was sleeping on the beach a stone’s throw away from the Marine barracks in Beirut, Lebanon. That morning the building was blown up, killing 221 Marines, 18 sailors, and thee soldiers. It was the deadliest single-day death toll for the US Marine Corps since the battle of Iwo Jima in World War II.
In 1983, United States citizens were taken hostage in Lebanon and terrorists were crossing the Lebanese border and killing Jews. The Lord spoke to me to go there and preach the Gospel to them, delivering them from the spirit of murder—knowing that their only hope was Jesus. When I arrived in Jerusalem, my traveling companion received a call from Israeli intelligence telling him that Sidon, the town that we had planned to visit first as we made our way to Beirut, was targeted for an attack at the time we would be there. He was told that we could not go.

When I got back to the hotel that evening, he was asleep. I woke him and said, “Get packed. We have to leave early in the morning.” He said, “No, I’m not going. Israeli intelligence called and said if we do, we’ll be killed. I can’t take the risk because my insurance would be cancelled. I’m not covered for a war zone.”

I smiled at him and asked, “Insurance or assurance? You need some blessed assurance.” I took a trash can, emptied it on the floor, and filled it with water. I then told him to get out of bed and place his feet in the can. He thought I had lost my mind as I washed his feet as Jesus washed the feet of the disciples. I believed that the spirit of fear would be broken. He wept and rejoiced as he said, “I’ll go with you. I’m not afraid.”


The attack happened minutes before we arrived in Sidon. We were there to minister life and grace to suffering souls, and God protected us. I went into Beirut with a team of three. I was determined not only to preach to the terrorists, but also to the Marines who were stationed there. I filled the trunk of the car with Bibles, passed those out, and shared the Gospel. I will never forget one young Marine who I led to Christ. I had a television camera with me, and we decided to let the Marines record Christmas messages to their families since they would not be home for the holidays.

The eighteen-year-old Hispanic man was from Wooster, Massachusetts. He said, “Mom, I’ve got great news for you. I know you’ve been praying I would find the Lord. Today I accepted Jesus as my personal Savior!” That was on October 22nd.

Early the next morning, I was jolted awake by one of the loudest sounds I’ve ever heard. A suicide bomber drove a truck onto the airport where the Marines were headquartered. He had hijacked the truck for the water delivery the Marines were expecting. He drove into the building and detonated the equivalent of 12,000 pounds of TNT. I experienced the shock wave and saw the fireball of the explosion.

Every terrorist in the city opened up with gunfire targeting anything that moved. I had rented an Avis vehicle in Jerusalem and had to get back to Nahariyya on the Israel border. It was inconceivable that anyone could get down that road. That night as I drove and prayed with the team, I took a wrong turn into the middle of a Hezbollah funeral. I could see the body being carried over their heads of the crowd and guns waving. Had they looked at our car and realized it had Jerusalem license plates, we all would have died on the spot.

As I sped away, I had no idea where we were going. I had followed the sea to Beirut, and now it was too dark to see. After taking another wrong turn, we began to pass UN checkpoints on the road to Damascus. We were being targeted by 135 mm shells being fired at us as spotlights swept over the car. We felt like the balloon targets in a dart-throwing contest at a carnival. Then—horror of horrors—we ran out of fuel. Charlie Weston and L.W. Dollar (one of my board members) looked at me and said, “We’re dead!” They knew there was no hope of survival.

I stepped outside with a screwdriver and removed the light from the license plate so no one would be able to see the distinctive Jerusalem plate. As we sat in the vehicle and prayed, suddenly an Arab came to the window. In the natural, it seemed he was about to blow our heads off. He lifted his hand which I thought held a gun but instead held a can fuel. He walked back to the gas tank and poured the gasoline into the vehicle. He came back and pointed to the button that would unlock the car door.

For some reason, I felt this was God and opened the door. He climbed into the passenger seat, and without saying a word, pointed in the direction we were to go. For thirty-two kilometers, our guide rode with us. When he saw the lights of Nahariyya in the distance, our guide held up his hand and indicated that I was to stop. He opened the door and stepped out, never uttering a word. We drove a few yards, where a lieutenant colonel stopped our car and looked at me with complete shock. He said, “I thought you were dead. I notified the prime minister’s office that you had been killed. There is no possibility that you could have gotten down this road alive, especially in an Israeli vehicle.”

I pointed behind us and said, “That man saved our lives.” There was no one standing there. There is no doubt in my mind that twenty-nine years ago today, an angel of the Lord divinely intervened and saved my life. Let me encourage you today to keep your eyes on Jesus and keep doing what God has put on your heart to do. God will protect you, no matter what you see or what the circumstances!"