It’s been a while since I last wrote a blog. I don’t have any real excuse — just laziness for writing along with a month full of fun memories I didn’t want to miss! I’ve been serving alongside Cru (sometimes known as Campus Crusade for Christ) in Quito, Ecuador throughout most of the month of May, but the Lord keeps asking me to share about a small village tucked away in the jungle of Peru.
So, here’s my “yes.”
Here’s my story of how I met the forgotten people of Chuquibambilla.
You may recall from a previous blog (the one about how I got stitches following an unfortunate encounter with an extension ladder) that I was struggling with a newfound anxiety and panic attacks during our month in Peru. I fought to find truth in the lies and sought out light in the darkness, but there’s just some parts of the anxiety that can only be remedied by a good, hearty reminder of the cross.
This came one day when I was sitting in a coffee shop sipping some chai. I looked down at my phone on the table in front of me and saw a name pop up on the screen — Troy Hobson.
Troy (who my friends and family at home affectionally refer to as “Brother Troy” or just “BT”) is one of my closest friends, my most trusted mentors, and is basically a spiritually father to me. He has fought alongside me through some really dark times, and he has celebrated with me in the most joyful ones, too.
I picked up the phone and was immediately set at ease to hear his voice. He knew I needed encouragement because my sister had filled him in a few days prior about a particular panic attack that just about had me booking the first flight out of Lima to go home. I wanted to throw in the towel. He didn’t scold me nor did he coddle me. We caught up for several minutes and just enjoyed talking about the goodness of the Lord sharing stories about how God is moving in Laurel, Mississippi and around the world.
He ended our conversation with a simple challenge: “In the next few days, keep your eyes open and look for the one you would have missed if you had booked that flight home—and share the gospel with them.”
We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone. The coffee shop around me suddenly looked completely different; I was out of my pity-party and back on the mission field.
A few days later I was on a bus headed out to our second leg of ministry in the Peruvian jungle. To be completely honest I don’t know where on the map we were, but I do know it was a 13-hour bus ride from Lima through some mountains and a 2-hour car ride deep into the middle of nowhere.
As we rolled into this tiny village called Chuquibambilla, I quickly noticed that young and old villagers alike wore the same orange smocks. I was immediately reminded of my time in Asia where Buddhist monks are sometimes dressed in similar fashion. We were introduced to some of the more prominent members of the community and shuffled off to set up our tents before dinner. The next day, we began our ministry: carrying heavy building supplies and proceeding to build the foundation of a house.
The house we were building would one day be the home of our host’s daughter and son-in-law, Pablo and Susanna. They had visited this village years ago with Samaritan’s Purse and the Lord broke their hearts for the people. They proceeded to follow God’s call to plant a church here and build a ministry.
Days turned into a week and our sunburns turned to peeling skin. Who knew pale skin would burn so quickly at higher elevations near the equator?? Long work days turned to soccer games with the kids in the evenings and ice cold showers turned out to be as refreshing in the jungle as a hot shower might be at home.
After a week of hard manual labor and a lot of laughs in the process, my team and I ended our time in the village on top of the foundation we had just build for Pablo and Susanna. We prayed over the house, over the new missionaries’ family, the village of Chuquibambilla, and Peru as a whole. We looked at the foundation and the Lord broke my heart immediately — in a really beautiful way, of course. I realized how selfish I had been weeks before. The enemy had tried to convince me to go home, to give up, to stop trying, to throw in the towel and refuse to do my part as a Kingdom builder. But Jesus had bigger plans.
The Lord still chose to use me even in my weakness. He still chose to pursue my heart even when I was running away from His grace. If I had listened to the lies of the enemy instead of the truths of my Father, I would probably still be wallowing in self-pity eating ungodly amounts of PopTarts and fast food in Laurel, MS.
I’m so thankful for a God who doesn’t leave us in our mess.
As we prayed one final time with our host, he said something that shocked me. He was thanking us for serving the community and for representing Jesus to the people there. He said that the people of Chuquibambilla believed they were a forgotten people, but we actually took notice of them and loved them.
Wow, what a reality check. There have been moments in my life when I felt forgotten, but never in the way these people had. They live in a remote village in the mountainous jungle of Peru. They don’t even speak Spanish as their primary language like the rest of the country; they speak an indigenous language in which the Bible is not even available!
(side note/prayer request: Please pray for Susanna as she continues to study linguistics in Lima so that she can translate God’s word into the villagers’ native language and share the Gospel in their mother tongue!)
So, BT, this one’s for you. This is my buddy Yurge. He’s 9 years old and a firecracker!
These people aren’t forgotten. They are BELOVED by our Father.
God didn’t need me to notice them, but He chose to use me as a tool in His hand to not only acknowledge these people, but to love them, share the gospel with them, and simply remember them. I’m so glad I didn’t book that plane ticket home.
I don’t know if you’ve experienced that “forgotten” feeling or if you’re sitting in it right now. But just know, brother or sister, that you are not forgotten.You are a beloved child of the Most High God.
You are cherished by people that you may not even realize, but you are treasured far above human capacity by your Father.
Stick it out, keep your eyes open, and look for the one. Jesus left the 99 to seek after us, so why shouldn’t we do the same?
Go. Love. That’s all He asks of us.
I love you, dear reader. Thank you for reading this and for following my journey! I’ll be home by the end of June, so if you want to meet up with me and hear more about my Race and how the Lord has changed my life, send me a message or something so we can catch up!
See y’all soon!
