I sit on the wood-plank floor of Rosa’s house. I try to help her prepare food as we wait for our Ecuadorian friends to return; they are talking to nearby villages about the possibility of using a canoe to get to the village of Karama. The word “canoe” suddenly becomes like our own little Disneyland, capturing our attention and hope. I change clothes and stop shivering as I drink some hot waiusa made from jungle leaves. It tastes like tea and it feels like heaven to my cold, wet body. Rosa serves us rice, a fried egg, and tuna. I am floored by her hospitality and thankful for the savory food.
When Manuel & Edwin return, I pay attention to their rapid Spanish. Canoe is a no-go. My contact is a little bummed, as this means we cannot go to the village Karama. This is the home of an 8-year-old handicapped boy who returned to jungle life after spending 6 years in the Casa de Fe orphanage, where Chris got to know him.
Letting go of our expectations, we start seeing God’s hand moving big-time. We have too many people praying for us to think that this change of circumstances is coincidental; God wants us to stay with Rosa and this community.
Once this decision is made, we visit the surrounding families of San Marcos to tell them that we will have a program at the community center at 7:30pm. It’s the only building around with a light, so everyone knows what we are talking about. We pray for our time with the village and have a little time to prepare. I show up late to the event with Rosa after we finish washing dishes outside.
Inside of the community center sits about 20 children and 4 adults. Edwin and Ralph are up at the front, and we start with a fun/dancy song, “I walk by faith”. I’m using all of my brain cells at this point to try to translate the song into Spanish. “Camino con fe… Todos pasos con fe… A vivir con fe… Pongo mi confianzia a Dios!” We dance and sing a few more songs, establishing rapport with the community and having fun.
Ralph now shares a message about Jesus, the fishes, and the loaves. Hysterically, I am considered the best non-Ecuadorian Spanish speaker of the group, so I’m asked to go to the front and help translate. Our translator, kind as he is, takes some liberty with the translation, so I help him when I hear things majorly “off”. I like what Ralph says, but my heart is burning within me for the gospel to be made very clear to this village.
Next, Manuel gets up. From the moment he begins, the room is hanging on his words. This man’s spirit is bursting out of him. The kids are riveted by his words, and he draws them in well by the authenticity of his words. He shares the gospel with more beauty and passion than imaginable. “How much do I cost? How much do you cost?” He asks. “You cost the life of Jesus Christ. You are bought by the blood of Jesus”.
As he speaks of the infinite God becoming finite to take on our depravity, he tells our team to stand up and to give every person in the room hugs.
I start with the two giggling children close to me. I cup their faces in my hands, one by one, and look them in the eyes with compassion. Then I hold them tight and hug them as I would a dear friend. When I let go, something has changed. This is no longer just a story. This is not simply a funny community activity. This is Jesus loving this village.
The tone changes.
I see Rosa’s body start to tremble a bit as she takes deep breaths. She is experiencing the love of God in a real way. I come behind her, stroking her hair and praying for more of God’s love. She pulls my arms around her like a favorite sweater, and I hold her tight. For five minutes, I crouch on my knees behind her with my arms wrapped around Rosa. I pray quietly over her.
Manuel shares that receiving forgiveness and a new life in Jesus is a gift we can accept or refuse. He leads the room in a prayer for any who want to be reconciled once and for all to God. Little voices from little bodies are whispering to Jesus all around the room. Precious, precious, precious. I can’t hear Rosa’s voice, but about a minute after the prayer, she exhales deeply. It’s like the spirit of peace has come and washed over her soul. Her body relaxes, and her cheeks, wet from tears, are now smiling. Something is different in her spirit, now. I am so thankful.
Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for this woman. For this jungle. For this language. Thank you, Jesus, for sending a Holy Spirit—a comforter— into the earth to reveal who you are. Oh, Lord! Oh, thank you.
We spend our last few minutes of the evening praying and playing another silly game with the children. A humongous flying insect lands on me several times, taking my focus off the songs as I swat it off and try to hide from its path.
Erin sweeps the floor, I stack chairs, and we give many cheek-kisses goodbye before making our way back to Rosa’s house. She’s warned me 4 times about the large scorpions, so I stay close to somebody with a flashlight until we get back.
The girls and I sleep inside Rosa’s kitchen area, setting up our tent to keep out mosquitos & other creepy crawlies. Because of the limited backpack space, we’d only brought 2 sleeping pads. We split them amongst the three of us, cushioning our heads and backs. Praise the Lord—I sleep great.
I had no idea how much I would need that sleep for the next day.
Part three coming soon!
