It was quarter till 6 and we decided to start walking to the church early. “Vamos a la iglesia” we explain and he unexpectedly gets up to follow us towards the church. I stayed back to wait for Johnny as he finished up his Spanish translation of the night’s lesson. Tara and Josh, along with several of the children begin walking with Miguel towards the church, a half a mile up the road.
Johnny and I arrive as a young girl, who lives close to the church, is opening the doors. We all walk in together. Miguel and I find each other walking side by side up the dirty cement aisle towards the front of the church. With individual blue chairs lined up in rows on either side of us, he walks by every row to the very first one. We sit down together.
Brian and Stacy begin to sing, bringing a soft welcome to the building’s silence.
At the start, there was an uncomfortable lack of space between myself and Miguel. He sat so close and stared directly into my eyes. It was that same look from before, like “Can you help me?” Within seconds I began to feel a calming sensation come over me, a complete peace about where I was and who I was with at that very moment. “Thank you,” I whisper to God, “I can’t do this without you.” He was directing every movement, every word, every feeling that encompassed me.
With broken Spanish, I ask him…
Crees que Dios te ama? Do you believe God loves you?
Crees que Jesus es el Hijo de Dios? Do you believe that Jesus is the son of God?
He would respond with a nod, but I fear it wasn’t because he understood; but only because he picked up that I was asking him a question.
Puedo orar para tu? Can I pray for you?
With a nod, we bow our heads.
My hands reach out to his arm. An overwhelming feeling of brokenness comes over me. I can feel his pain. It begins with his uncertainty, then loneliness and ends with hopelessness. I start to cry and can’t finish my sentence.
Right behind us are Josh and Tara, they lay hands on Miguel and continue to pray. Not long after, he stands up and thanks us. He shakes our hands, hugs us tightly and walks out of the church.
That was the last time I saw Miguel.
Only God knows what happened in Miguel’s heart that day. We can only thank God for using us to love on a broken spirit. It is my hope that Miguel saw love that day, a love that only his Father can provide.
