So it was our first day outside of San Salvador, church members from San Miguel came to pick us up to drive the 2 hours west from San Salvador. We went out to lunch, got settled into Pastor Job’s house. Then we were off to his school (he had originally started it just for his son, now it serves about 500 kids) where we picked up about 30 more people (mostly teenagers and kids our age) from the church, loaded up into the school bus and headed off to a poor little neihborhood outside the city. It was my first time in a truly impoverished neighborhood. We split off into small groups – 2 of us with 3 or 4 of the kids to translate. Our job was to go door to door to invite them to the church service that would take place in an hour and to share the gospel. Talk about terrifying, I’d never been asked to share the gospel before.
Kathryn and I set out down the block with Christian, Abby Pastor Job’s daughter, and I think one other person. We got to the first house where a lady was standing outside and Abby beqgan describing to her what we were doing and invited her to the service later. Then she excitedly explains that they have missionaries from the United States to share to gospel. Then she turns to me and says &What do you want to tell her about Christ?& Erm….erm…. I stumbled through a Hi-how-ya-doing-do-you-have-any-questions-ok-bye.
Oofda. A lot of disappointment emanated into that walk between that house and the next. Mostly in myself for not being prepared and being scared to speak. I could tell the kids assumed we were missionaries that actually knew what we were doing – which I knew we were not. Thankfully Abby -bless her- just put her arm around me and said &It’s okay, try again.& We continued on house after house for a few blocks – and I continued on in my silence. I kept getting reassuring looks that said &next time, next time&, but I definitely felt like I was failing at life. Finally, at the last house I managed to get a few sentences out. I got a hug and a &good job& from Abby that I sheepishly accepted, kicking myself for making something so simple so hard.
We made our way to where chairs had been set up for an evening service, and actually to my surprise quite a few of the locals showed up to listen to the sermon. Most people seemed disinterested when we visited them; I hadn’t expected very many to wander over, especially since it was a Friday night. We started off singing a song or two, and then the kids had some neat little dramas (skits) to perform. Then Pastor Job asked one of us to come and share our testimony. Aw crap I thought. I could feel the Spirit nudging me, &You’re up&. Well I guess that means I’m on. Time to chalk up another first for the day.
I stood up in front of all those people without much of an idea of what I wanted to say, so I just prayed the Spirit would guide what I said and went for it. I knew I was talking to all the teenagers and young folk in the crowd, so I started with how I grew up kind of around church and I learned all the stories and stuff, but it never really sunk in. So when I turned 16 and got my drivers license I all but forgot about all my church learning, and boy did I turn into a little hellion. For [my] grandma’s sake I won’t describe my high school and college years here, but I told them all about how Mom got her gray hairs. I also described how no matter how much you try to fill your life with fun and distraction, the loneliness, the desperation, the nothingness – they always catch up with you. We try and try to fill our lives with things and people but they’re never enough, there’s never enough to fill the empty chasm that becomes our hearts when we try to do life without God.
And so I told them how God met me where I was at – alone, in the dark, on the floor- and I wasn’t alone anymore. And apparently the Holy Spirit was moving through the crowd that night because afterwards everyone kept coming up and telling me how powerful my story was for them and how it really hit home with the heart (which was actually quite a relief because I felt like I was just babbling and rambling while I was up there).
And so goes my tale from San Miguel (one of them), and serves as another example of just how important and powerful it can be to simply share your story.
