(continued from Higueronas: Journeys)
It’s hard to describe what we experienced in San Pablo.
All we knew is that we were going there to attend a funeral. The pastor the neighboring village had us to join him on the journey earlier that morning. So, without knowing much about why we were going or what it was going to be like, we put on our mud boots and followed.
After hiking 4 hours in the mud and heat through the jungles of Ecuador, our small team arrived challenged, tired, and dirty…but strangely full excitement and anticipation. God was going to move. He had just spent 4 hours breaking us, and we were hungry for it. As soon as we walked into that place, something settled on us. There was stillness there…as if the hearts of the people were just waiting on something. This town was thirsty.
It was then were told…there was only one known Christian household in the entire village. In fact, the people here had only seen missionaries once before…2 weeks before, to be exact. Think about that…most of them didn’t even know what a missionary was! Let alone had they heard about God’s unshakable love for them.
Thankfully, we were invited in by a family for a meal and a place to stay for the night. After a quick scrub in the river to wipe the first layer of mud off of ourselves, we climbed up to the attic room where we would be staying for the night, and started to pray.
“God…�
Instantly, the wind began to blow outside. Hard.
“These people are thirsty for you…�
And then came the rain. And I’m not talking just a sprinkle or a trickle, but a downpour.
Yep. God was showing up.
After praying, we went downstairs and joined the family in a meal. We could barely hear each other over the roaring sound of the rain outside, but within a matter of an hour, we were praying for healing over the family. Within a few more minutes, their daughter was giving her life to Christ.
We set out for the funeral, in the downpour, rain flooding the ground around us. The rivers had risen so high so fast we had to wade through them with our pants rolled up to our thighs, our boots filled with water, forming a human chain to keep from getting swept away in it’s current.
God was not just showing up, he was literally drenching this place!
We arrived at the funeral, and after waiting for the family to invite us in, took the seats provided for us. It was then we were given the rest of the story…the man who’s funeral we were attending was the pastor’s cousin. He was a follower of Christ, but for the last several years had wandered away from following him. His dying wish was that, at his funeral, someone would share Jesus..but there was no one willing, or even there, to do it. But a few days after he passed, a group of missionaries arrived in the neighboring town. And now here we were. At a funeral. Surrounded by death and grief. The emptiness and hunger so visible in the eyes of everyone around us, it hung over their faces like a veil. They were waiting.
For the sake of brevity, I won’t share everything that was said or done. But God indeed showed up. People heard and understood the truth of who Jesus is…not just a great teacher from ancient days or a name to call on when you’re in trouble…but a living, breathing, ACTIVE savior. The one who rescues. The one who was and is, and is to come. The very thing their souls thirsted for.
I will never forget the intensity with which one man had studied us from the moment we walked in…observing everything we did. And when the truth of Jesus was shared, his hand was the first to shoot into the air, saying “I want Jesus�…with such desperation it took my breath away. He knew. He knew this was what his soul had been longing for. And he wasn’t the only one. God rescued that night. He let himself rain down in a way that was so visible. He created these people. He wanted them. And that night, he penetrated their hearts with his word.
