I mentioned in my last blog that we had a great time in Antigua. When I heard we were debriefing there I thought to myself, and then said aloud, “We’re going to Antigua? People go there on their honeymoon.” It’s a beautiful little colonial town near Guatemala City. One day we hiked a volcano (Volcan Pacaya) and roasted marshmallows over the slowly flowing magma.
Our coaches and leaders who had flown in for debrief left on the last day of our stay in Antigua, the day we hiked the volcano. Ben and Braedon had the idea to use our remaining free evening to worship in the central park, planting a little of the Kingdom of God in one of Guatemala’s hottest tourist locations.
I was excited about the worship, but I was a little bit apprehensive about the reception with which we might be met. As we sat down near one of the small fountains on the periphery of the park I saw one of the many shoe-shiners sell some pot to a girl across the circle from me. As he walked away I flashed him a glance and a smile and he said, “You wanna get high, hombre?”, then sucked in deep like he was drawing on a joint.
Shortly into our second or third worship song, the same kid sat down next to Cindy, who speaks fluent Spanish. She would later tell me that they talked for a long time about Jesus and he eventually said he wanted to receive Jesus in his heart, so they prayed together.
When that boy left, I saw Cindy turn to talk to a girl sitting behind her. Within a few seconds the girl was crying and Cindy had stood up to wrap her in her arms and comfort her. Later she would tell me that the girl was very lonely on her first day in Antigua. She had just arrived to do ministry for one month and had no idea how she would get along.
By this time we had been worshipping for about twenty minutes and I asked Christi, a Spanish major in college, to stand up and tell people that we would be happy to pray with them if they wanted prayer. Not many people moved, but I decided I would sit off to the side anyways to be more ready to receive any takers.
Soon an older man in a black shirt came near as he played with his grand-daughter. Soon I gave him enough eye contact to invite a conversation. It turns out his name was Nico and he knew no English. We talked for five or ten minutes about various things in Spanish. Over a few different occasions I really wanted to turn and ask Christi or Cindy to help translate, but I forced myself to use the four years of Spanish I remember from high school. I got to listen to Nico tell me how much he loved Jesus and how he was “muy contento” that we were worshipping in the park.
That night we met two Guatemalan pastors, we met a Canadian woman who was crying when one of the songs we sang reminded her of her Grandma’s funeral. She was raised Catholic and no longer claimed Christian belief, but she talked to Christi and Cindy for a few hours after everyone else left. Sara and Carly met a young man who had received a copy of the New Testament that day before. He had been reading it and had some questions. With Sara’s proficient Spanish and the help of two missionaries from Pennsylvania who happened by, they explained to him the Gospel and led him to the Lord. The prayed with him to receive Jesus as his Savior and pointed out some key passages to study in his New Testament.
On the whole I think we were received very well in the park. Many people snapped pictures and captured video of our singing.
Meeting and seeing many people who were encouraged by our unabashed love for the Lord got me thinking. How many people are walking around on the streets every day, letting their faith guide them privately, secretly wishing that one of their brothers or sisters in Christ would be bold and give them an opportunity to share their faith. So many of the people we met who were Christians would have just walked through the park like any other day had we not been there. Instead they were able to rejoice and celebrate with fellow believers.
As we walked into the park to begin our worship Christi had said “Are we allowed to do this?” Someone said, “I guess we’ll find out.” Not only were we allowed. We were welcomed by many of the people there. The people who were only morbidly curious were even comforted in a few cases.
As people gathered around and God’s love was shared and celebrated, I got a vision. I got a vision of God’s Kingdom coming. I got a vision of our generation rising up in boldness and proclaiming their faith in the central park. Let that be an encouragement. When shame falls away, boldness rises up. We will see God’s Kingdom come, but someone has to take the first step.
