In 1958, a skinny Pentecostal pastor from rural Pennsylvania felt God tell him to drive to New York City and walk into the most dangerous neighbourhoods in Brooklyn. His name was David Wilkerson, and by every human metric, he had no business being there.
Into the War Zone
Wilkerson showed up in the territory of the Mau Maus, one of the most violent gangs in New York. He found their leader — an eighteen-year-old Puerto Rican kid named Nicky Cruz, who had been beaten, abandoned, and hardened into someone who genuinely enjoyed hurting people. Cruz ran the streets with a switchblade and zero fear of consequences.
When Wilkerson approached and told Nicky that Jesus loved him, Cruz slapped the pastor across the face. "You come near me and I'll kill you," he said.
Wilkerson looked at him and said: "Yeah, you could do that. You could cut me into a thousand pieces and lay them in the street, and every piece would love you."
The Rally
Nicky couldn't shake those words. A few weeks later, Wilkerson held a rally in the neighbourhood. Cruz showed up — armed, angry, planning to disrupt it. But something happened when the gospel was preached that night. The rage that had defined Nicky's entire life met something stronger.
Nicky Cruz gave his life to Jesus. So did several other gang members. It wasn't gentle. It was volcanic.
After the Switchblade
Cruz went on to study at Bible college, became an evangelist, and has since spoken to millions around the world. Wilkerson's book about the experience, "The Cross and the Switchblade," sold over 15 million copies. But the real story isn't a book. It's a skinny pastor who walked into certain danger because he believed that friendship — even with someone who wanted to kill him — could be a bridge to God.
What This Means for You
Most of us will never face a switchblade. But we all face the temptation to avoid the people who seem too far gone. Wilkerson's message to Nicky Cruz wasn't sophisticated theology. It was seven words: "Every piece would love you." Sometimes that's all someone needs to hear — that love doesn't flinch. Not even when it gets slapped.