Mile marker 161, U.S. Highway 30 East, Story County, Iowa: The plaintive cry of the shofar horn drifts over the rolling cornfields and under salmon-tinged clouds promising dawn. Along a lonely rural highway, two weathered RVs sit quietly as a small group stands nearby and prays for the day's journey. Still holding the shofar, the group's leader concludes: ". . . and there is no way we can do this except through Your power. Amen."

The leader, a hearty man in his late 40s, wastes no time turning his face to the east, just as he has done most mornings for the past 21 weeks. It's harvest time. An eager farmer is already working, the headlights on his combine cutting through the eight-foot-tall stalks.

Pastor John Halvorsen is walking . . . walking . . . walking. Step by step, he's following the cadence of his heart, which beats to see America wake up and seek God. The two-fold message he believes God has given him is simple but pressing: "America: Get right with God. Church: Pray for the lost like you've never prayed before." Ironically, it's the secular press bearing this message to the cities and towns along Highway 30 and beyond.

"America is in a steep moral decline," the Casper, WY, Star Tribune quoted John as saying. "So pray for your communities, pray for the country, and believe that God can answer prayer."

A folder bursting with such clippings sits in the RV, testimony to the human interest inherent in such a unique quest . . . and perhaps testimony to an emptiness in the hearts of Americans. John becomes animated contemplating this fact, as he did the night before he spoke at a Campus Crusade for Christ meeting at Iowa State University.

Ames, Iowa: In a cedar-paneled room in the Memorial Union, a seven-piece band leads a lively group of students through a half-dozen praise songs. Even after walking 21 miles that day, John is alert and eager to speak. Soon he's up front, pacing as only a pastor can, speaking as a father to a predominantly freshman and sophomore crowd.

"God is speaking to America," he says, face aglow and eyes twinkling. "I can't prove this, but I was told recently that we've already addressed over 3 million people with this message. In paper after paper there is a whole lot of talk about repentance, prayer and getting right with God. In the secular press!"

Prayer Walk America, Halvorsen's ministry, grew out of a burden for the United States. As missionaries in Ireland, John and his wife, Sandy, developed an ever-deeper concern for their homeland. Finally they returned home, expecting to preach evangelistically. Instead John pastored churches, mostly troubled ones, during which he learned an important lesson: the power of fasting and prayer.

Highway Man | "Where are you walking, and why?" When you're wearing a "PRAY USA" backpack and a bright orange flag, conversations spring naturally. In Grand Junction, John and Sandy pray for a woman with a family who has cancer.

"Through a 40-day season of fasting and prayer," he says, "we saw God change the tide of one of these churches. I concluded, 'If God can do that for a local church, He can do it for a nation.'" John and Sandy began praying earnestly that God would show them their next step.

The idea of walking across America kept crossing John's mind. Perhaps this is a mid-life crisis, he thought, but the idea persisted. "I bounced it off of Sandy," says John, "and she wanted to know what the cause would be. I didn't know."

How about raising money for world missions? they thought. After extended prayer, they decided they should indeed raise something, but it would not be money. They would raise prayer for America.

John and Sandy submitted the idea to the leadership of their home church--Antioch Christian Fellowship in Eden Prairie, MN--and received "an enthusiastic 'two thumbs up.'" Through meditating on Genesis 13:17, they believed God was calling them to "walk the length and breadth of the land" just as Abraham was commanded to do in Canaan. So in 1998 John took the next step--walking and praying from the Canadian border to the Gulf of Mexico. A walk through the French Quarter of New Orleans on New Year's Eve stands in their minds as the most dramatic and sobering moment of their entire north-south journey.

"That was an amazing day," explains Sandy. "You couldn't even walk down Bourbon Street without squeezing between people. There was all manner of lewd things going on. And everybody was drunk, roaring drunk. John spoke to me, saying, 'You know, if the Lord were to return tonight, most of these people would be in hell.'

"I was so gripped by that," she continues, eyes dampening. "I was able to have one meaningful conversation, but there were thousands of people there. Thousands. One person can't do it alone, I thought. It's going to take the whole church breaking out of our four walls and going to the marketplace with the love of Jesus."

Mile marker 164, seven miles west of State Center, Iowa: As John walks over a narrow bridge crossing a tributary of the North Skunk River, a cattle truck roars by, pressing John against the guardrail. Meanwhile, three deer, startled by the noise, hasten away from the watering hole 35 feet below and disappear into a thicket.

Recovering, John continues his pace of about three miles per hour: faster than a mall-shopper's gait, slower than a power-walker's. The morning coolness gives way to warmth and humidity, and sweat glistens on his face.

The uneven, crushed rock of the highway shoulder teaches new lessons with each step. Shin and thigh muscles tighten and "hot spots" form on the soles of the feet. Five miles and 90 minutes until lunch break. John is praying aloud: "Father, I believe America is crying out for truth. We're beginning to realize that hedonism does not satisfy. There's an emptiness to the American way. Help us, Lord. Help us."

"Our heart-cry," says Ron Olson, the administrative muscle behind Prayer Walk America, "is to see the church in America come together as never before, earnestly seeking God on behalf of the communities of this nation." Ron's wife, Linda, coordinates intercessory prayer while Diane Krump drives the second RV and helps care for the Halvorsens' 7-year-old daughter, Laura. Sandy walks with her husband half of each day.

Mile marker 181, just west of Marshalltown, Iowa: A half mile remains of today's 22-mile journey. John and Sandy talk of the absence of a sense of time as they walk. "Just one big 'now,'" they comment. With happy eyes, the tired couple soon spots the RV parked on a side road. A strange car accompanies it, and as John and Sandy approach, their daughter runs out to greet them.

". . . this man came up with snacks and drinks," she breathlessly recounts, bounding into her father's arms. "He read about us in the paper." After introductions, this gray-haired, slender man, David, invites the whole team into Marshalltown, to stay at a homeless shelter he coordinates at a downtown Lutheran church. An offer of a hot meal, hot showers and warm beds is extended. This kind of thing happens often. Strangers are moved when they hear about the "guy walking across America."

After showers and dinner, John and Sandy reflect on their motivation to walk the land. "I am convinced," says John, "that Bill Bright's prayers for 2 million Christians to fast and pray for revival led to our 40-day fast. I believe, too, that Prayer Walk America is the result of that season of prayer and fasting."

"God can touch the nation," Sandy adds, as she massages John's weary feet, "even though we're personally not able to reach everyone." Her eyes become moist. "Which grieves me. I want to! I want to."

Night falls quickly in this county-seat community. Outside the 90-year-old church the two road-weary RVs sit silently. A few miles to the south, Highway 30, the nation's first coast-to-coast highway, shuttles faceless men, women and children anonymously east and west, but the wide, gravel shoulder is empty. For now. You'd be hard pressed to find John's footprints.

Does this mean there was no lasting impression? The results of prayer are sometimes invisible to the world at large. But John and Sandy are praying and walking and praying for bigger things. They can see it. Up ahead a bit, just a few more miles, a few more steps.

Steven Grezlak, a former Worldwide Challenge staff writer, lives in Orlando, FL, with his wife, Wendi, and son, Noah.