Growing up in the South is easy. Everybody has similar politics. Everybody has similar religious beliefs. Everybody has a similar outlook on life. There is a church on every street corner and most of them are full once, and sometimes twice, per week. Most people acknowledge the existence of God, although there is often great debate about what he looks like, why he does or doesn't do certain things and if he is really as good as people say that he is. Even outside the South, throughout the rest of the United States there is generally not much difference in any of these things, at least according to the rest of the world. Then there are places like San Juan La Laguna and San Marcos La Laguna. San Juan is located next to San Pedro on the shores of Lake Atitlan. San Marcos is located across the water, next to San Pablo. These towns are very different even though they are located very near each other but at the same time they serve as an illustration for the same lesson. As my team and I prayer walked through these towns we were able to learn a little bit more about the people that live there. We discovered that in San Juan, just across the street from a church, there is a statue of John The Baptist, for whom the town is named. At the foot of this statue there is a box for people to put an offering in to after bringing their requests to Saint John. While prayer walking through San Marcos we learned that the town is a stronghold for witchcraft. Ancient Mayan beliefs such as ancestor worship, human sacrifice, and reliance on witchdoctors thrive in place where there is only 2 churches, with just 35 Christians between them. In both instances it is evident that the people are searching. They are searching for something that is real, something that they can cling to and form their identity around. In the sprawling American South we tend to take our faith lightly because it is so prevalent in the culture. In the isolated Lake Atitlan region of Guatemala it's a battle for souls every day.
The world is starving for hope. It is starving for something new. It is starving for something genuine. It is starving for the Gospel. It is easy to hear a scenario like this and get discouraged but let me leave you with some encouragement. San Pedro, where my team and I lived and ministered for the month, and San Pablo, where our contact, Pastor Antonio, has his church, both used to be in similar situations. Today those walls have come down. Today the Gospel is thriving. People are responding and lives are being changed. There is a light in the darkness and it's growing brighter with every single passing moment.
