The town we’re in moves slowly it feels. We’re in a town of 4,000 with about 4.5 hours of jungle between us and the nearest city. The first couple days here, the Lord gave me a glimpse into the spiritual atmosphere here, and one of the predominant impressions I got was hopelessness. Things feel stagnant, monotonous, and sometimes lifeless. There is a lot of sitting and it would seem a lot of apathy.
Our tent camp in the church. We take down/set-up for each church meeting, but it´s still home.
Our church congregation goes against that mold in several ways. Most notably, there is hope. There is a core group of members that will pray and sustain the life of this church, but we are still praying for revival. Even more hope was recently found as we visited a different congregation last Sunday. Their joy is palpable and their fervor is real.
A lot of the evangelical [i.e. non-Catholic Christians] roots here were planted by missionaries, and current believers treat this heritage very honorably. Our deacon knows of particular missionary groups that were persecuted or killed in this region years ago. The church we visited last week paid respect during the service to the two missionaries who first established the congregation. Our pastor came to know the Lord through two female missionaries who visited his house when he was young; he still recalls both by name. We are building on the blood of the saints, and at times it feels like shoes too big to fill.
It is tempting to absorb the lethargy here. It seeps into you, alongside the heat, and together they threaten to thwart any efforts. We’re trying to stay strong and find intentional, meaningful ways to reach out. It’s hard to objectively say how we’re doing. Amidst the wondering and wandering, I can recall a few gem moments that I want to share, and some cultural bits as well.
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- One day as we were about to head out to invite the community to Bible Study, an elderly and somewhat dirty man came through the doors. He was motioning with his hands, touching his face, and clearly wanted something. He was speaking the native language, Quechua, so I wasn’t sure what he wanted. We looked around for food we could give him and maybe some money, and I asked in Spanish what was going on. He spoke Spanish as a second language, but when we did finally come to understand each other, what he wanted was prayer for his eyesight! I said the pastor wasn’t there but we could pray for him! We did, and invited him to Bible Study, and then he picked up his backpack and walked on. Are our church doors this open? Are there believers in your life you can fearlessly walk up to for prayer?
- Our two little neighbor boys love to play outside naked. They especially love water, so we find them playing in the hose, the spicket, and sometimes our shower. Then when I go to our neighbor’s shop, they’re there (clothed) to help mom sell ice cream or drinks. Too cute.
A friend from church showed us around the first day, and personally peeled us cocnuts to drink from his backyard.
- In church last week, we were part of a town-wide Baptist gathering. The singing was mostly in Spanish, but once when the leaders switched to Quechua, I looked over and saw a quechuan woman just light up. He arms went up as much as her old joints would allow, and she sang out loudly, long traditional braids swinging behind her. A precious image of a daughter adoring her Dad.
- On a house visit this week, we spent time at a church members house to pray for her. Instead of going through the motions, my teammate pushed to hear her tell her side of the story of a crumbling marriage. Turns out she really needed to talk that night and be heard. One of the most helpful approaches to ministry I’ve found is this: allow your expectations to be wrong, allow the schedule to change. Church leaders were able to counsel her more specifically, and we all gathered around her to pray. Plus, afterward, she served us a peanut drink! That was new.
- A friend of our teammate offered to send some evangelical material to the Pastor here. We just needed an address to send it to. The pastor seemed to be putting a lot of thought into where to send the videos. Two days later when I realized there’s no post office in this town and no one gets mail, it made more sense. Two days after that, he came by church with great news to give us: he had the address! He showed me the paper, which said “Box 2199”. I told him that was great, but we may also need a city, or a street, or a postal code to help get the materials to him. He looked at the paper a moment, then said, “oh, yes, I guess it’s incomplete. Okay, I’ll bring the rest tomorrow.” Oh, the cultural chasms we attempt to traverse.
- I got to wash my clothes in a stream my first week here. There’s a spicket at the church I can use, but this seemed more fun on a hot day. I sat with two other women washing in the stream, one old and one younger than me who was there with her toddler. They were curious about how and why I was here, and I asked them about life in this town. It was an honor to spend the afternoon with them.
- I translate several messages a week here. It has been fun, humbling, tiring, and a challenge. My team is so gracious with me. Most of all, it is a near daily reminder of Paul´s methodology: My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.1 Cor 2:4-5. Wise words are not even an option here. We just pray and pray that the Holy Spirit comes to change lives.
- Many American testimonies start out with “I grew up in a Christian home” and proceed through whatever string of events the Lord uses to reveal himself to us truly. Here, that is uncommon. So far, we have heard more about children growing up confused, amidst idols, not knowing who or what God is. It’s fascinating. But the Lord is everywhere, and eventually makes his way into his children’s lives, no matter where in the world they grow up. That is Truth in action.
- The deacon’s wife invited us over to cook lunch with her. It was my first time peeling yucca, and my teammates made hand-squeezed orange juice. It wasn’t dramatic, or anything new, but it was fun to cook with her. I was just glad the chicken was already gutted when we got there. The results were delicious.
I’d be lying if I said this was a favorite month, or even a great month. It’s slow, it’s hot, I’m apparently the only bilingual around, and sometimes we feel directionless with a pastor who doesn’t live near the church (yet). Please keep us in prayer, and most of all that we would be valuable instruments here. We know the Lord cares for Villa Tunari, and we are trying to as well.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. Heb 6:19
