Honestly, I should have told you this story months ago. Why haven’t I? I don’t know. But it keeps coming back to mind and I know, even though I left El Salvador almost 3 months ago, this is a story I must tell. It is time to show You how amazing our God is. So let’s take a step back in time together, to a warm and humid morning outside the hospital in San Salvador, where we took coffee and cookies to those waiting for loved ones and ministered to them.
It is time to pair up, and Mato (YWAMer and big brother who continues to pour into and challenge me spiritually) takes me aside immediately. I find it odd that we will be working together, because I speak basically no Spanish and his English (though very good) is not what he considers sufficient enough to translate. In our own special broken Spanglish, he tells me that he wants me to pray about who to approach, and then he will talk to them. Really pray, he tells me, and see who the Spirit shows you.
Abject terror might be the best way to describe how I feel. This is a step in boldness in the Spirit I do not know if I am ready to take, and I do not want to fail in front of Mato, my team, and a few hundred strangers. Shaking and sweating, I close my eyes and pray.
Orange. I see the color orange. A man in an orange t-shirt. So I open my eyes and search the crowd. To my surprise, on a bench 30 feet away, sits a man in an orange t-shirt. I point; we walk over.
Mato introduces himself to Orange Shirt and attempts a conversation. The man’s wife comes over. They abruptly leave.
What? Are you kidding here, God?
We turn instead to the man who had been sitting next to Orange Shirt, a man who easily could have gone unnoticed because he is doing his best to be invisible. I remember him vividly – his white shirt, torn jeans, dirty ball cap, and mangled hand. I sit next to him, Mato kneels in front of him. We give him coffee and Mato begins talking to him.
Want to know something crazy? I know exactly how the conversation is going and Mato is not translating a word.
His name is Oscar, and he was injured in a work explosion. Now he has no job, no money, and no hope. His aging mother is ill – very ill – and he cannot even pay for food, water, and electricity, let alone her medical care. So he comes to the park to get out of the house. You see, Oscar is very angry. He is angry at his mother for being sick. He is angry that he cannot care for her. He is angry at God. And my heart breaks for Oscar, because I know exactly how he feels.
Mato begins telling Oscar how God sees the situation. Mato prays with Oscar and ministers to him. I do not know exactly what Mato says, because these words were from God to Oscar. But I am praying. And I am crying. Oscar is crying. Mato is crying. The Spirit is moving in this trio in the park, powerfully and clearly. Oscar gives his life back to The Lord.
And then Mato reaches into his bag, pulls out a handful of coins, and gives them to Oscar. And you know what Oscar does? He refuses them. He says “I cannot take these, because you have given me so much already.” Through Mato and myself, God has given Oscar hope. God shows Oscar that he still matters, that no matter how hard he tries, Oscar will never be invisible to God.
We do convince Oscar to take the money – not much, but enough to feed himself and his mother for the day. And as Oscar takes the coins, he looks at us and says, “I did not know how I was going to take care of my mother anymore. I was planning on killing her, because I just could not do it another day. Thank you for showing me that there is hope. Thank you for reminding me of God’s love for me. God has shown me that He will provide. I am not going to kill my mother.“
Through an orange T-shirt, a cup of coffee, a handful of coins, and a willingness to listen, God saved two lives that day. Mato and I were not special, but we were there. Nothing we said could have done anything, but what God said through us prevented a murder and changed the course of a man’s life. To a degree, it changed my own.
When we step into boldness in the Spirit, God will use us in ways we cannot imagine. Three months later, I still often hesitate to step out in this boldness. I doubt the voice in my head and my heart that gives me words to share with God’s children, even as we evangelize in the African villages here. Let’s be honest, it’s scary. But let’s trust Him. Trust those instincts and those inclinations, because when we do, God will use them for His Kingdom. He wants to use you – will you let Him?
