(Or, witnessing all the way to the bottom of Mexico and back)
March 7, 2009
Left home for Port Arthur, Texas. Preached Sunday AM on Rom. 1:16-17. Sun. thru Wed. helped assemble Luke/Acts booklets in Spanish. Wed., 10:00 PM left for Mexico with 4320 Gospels.
March 14-20
Met team from Texas at Guadalajara airport. Went to Western Jalisco. Handed out 600 John/Romans booklets. Ministered at Indian migrant worker camp in Autlan. Outcasts of Mexican society. The first time we went there two or three years ago, a local Mexican girl, Barbara went with us. Not a Christian at the time. Was so impressed with our compassion for these Indians, she has since become a Christian and is now working regularly at the camp.
March 23
ROBBED! Don’t worry, it was in broad daylight and perfectly legal, by the cops. But it was definitely robbery, nonetheless.
Many opportunities to talk to people about Christ on my way to Chiapas. This nation is in great darkness; oh, that they would see a great light! Mexico needs a thundering John Knox. The Roman Catholic Church here is antichrist, keeping the people blind. Finding the Gospel in the RCC is like reading the Bible under water.
March 27
Simojovel, Chiapas. At 10:30 PM, several of us (I was the only gringo) were sitting in front of the church. Benjamin was playing the guitar. Truck stopped. Man got out. I assumed he was a friend. Tried to jerk guitar out of Benjamin’s hands. Drunk. Something about his wife and kids coming to church. Saw me and that really set him off. I think he assumed I was responsible for his family coming to Christ. Wish I was, but can’t claim that honor. Very threatening, pointing at me, beating his chest. Couldn’t understand him, but he wasn’t talking about Christian fellowship. Benjamin stood up and tried to talk with him. I got the distinct impression that if I stood up, the fight would be on. After about twenty minutes, Eufemio, the pastor came up. They knew each other. Took another twenty minutes to settle him down. I stood up and extended my hand. He embraced me, twice.
March 28
Beans and tomatoes for breakfast. Went to Juan Sabines today, 3 hours further up the mountain. People flowing in from all over those high hills. Service went on for three hours. They come a long way and deserve to get their money’s worth. I witnessed to a group of boys who were following me around all day. Don’t know what time it was when we went to bed. Don’t wear a watch in Mexico. Pointless. Slept on outdoor wooden platform.
March 29 (Sunday)
Concert began at daybreak. I was up. Went to sit in my pickup to read my Bible. Couldn’t really hear the music; just felt it. You’d think I’d get used to Mexican music. Tzotzil Indians here. Every time I open the cover on my pickup bed, they want to look in. Just curious. They drank the last of my water this morning. I miss Terri. Don’t ever get used to leaving her.
When a group sings, nobody makes a sound, amen or applause. No vocal response to sermons. But when they pray, do they ever! All at once.
The women are painfully shy. They will grin and duck their heads, hide behind each other when I walk by. The men are very humble, but light up when I speak first. Men seem to know more Spanish than women and children. The kids are shy, but I just mess with them like my grandkids and they warm up to me. Love to have their picture taken and when they see it, they all laugh. Once they like me, I can’t get rid of the little boogers. Like my grandkids.
I was closing speaker of the campaign. Shared my testimony. Then they prayed for me, all in one voice. My first Lord’s Supper in Mexico. Stood and prayed all at once, a symphony, not confusion. Just noticed a dead turkey, hidden behind sacks of corn on side of platform. Wonder if anybody knows. Eufemio is reading a list of names, members in good standing to take Lord’s Supper. If present, they say ‘amen.’ They take this more seriously than we do. Half the crowd stood up. Passed the elements to those standing. I wish you could experience this. I believe it is closed communion, local church only. You may disagree with that, but it’s got to be more Scriptural than giving it to little kids who pitch a fit, just to keep them quiet. More prayer. Those participating remain standing. Scripture. More prayer. I feel a real need to sit here and be quiet in the presence of saints. More prayer. Lost people here have seen and felt the Gospel. Even though it was in Tzotzil, so have I. How can they think of so much to pray? We have books and seminars and can’t pray like this. Taking up the cups, still standing. Almost scary reverence. Song. Beautiful. Wrapped up tray of elements as gently as if wrapping body of Jesus. They don’t seem to show much emotion. I’m trying not to weep.
Going ‘home’ to Simojovel. 13 people in my pickup with luggage and sound equipment. Two hours and 45 minutes. 13 miles.
March 30
Went by myself to Zapatistas compound today. Para military, anti-government group. Want to secede Chiapas and Oaxaca from union. Catholic, liberation theology. Anti- evangelical. Large gate. Lady with mask took my passport to an office of ‘vigilencia.’ Was escorted there by another lady in ski mask. Interrogated. Taken to another building and told to wait outside. Ten minutes later, escorted to what I believed to be commandant’s office. Waited outside for thirty minutes. Finally ushered in. Panel of three men and one woman, all in masks. Asked me questions. Explained my objective. More questions. Finally allowed me to leave 150 Luke/Acts. Couldn’t pass them out. Pray they will get distributed. Don’t feel any more threatened or intimidated than I would have at a Texas police station. Probably don’t have enough sense to be scared!
I’m sick, weak, dizzy, probably altitude. Back in my bunk tonight, a bat is flying overhead. Wish I had paid more attention at the zoo, Stacy. I hope he’s a fruit bat.
March 31
I’m ready for some REAL Mexican food! Maybe Terri will take me to El Fenix when I get back. Went to Maravilla. 15 miles. 2 hours. Excruciatingly hot and humid. Women here seem happier and men more talkative. The man of the house is looking over my shoulder, so I translate that last sentence. He translated it into Tzotzil so the ladies could understand. They all covered their mouths and laughed. Then he wanted me to take pictures. They love to see themselves. After taking the pictures, I realized one of them was nursing a baby. I don’t think about that any more than they do. I’ll try to remember not to put that one on the website. A little boy just came and stood by the outdoor water faucet and urinated. I had already washed up. A lady walked over and stood in front of him. Didn’t try to stop him.
It’s real dark up here. Waiting for the service. I never know if I’m preaching til the last minute. Tzotzil is a ‘sing-songy’ dialect; seems like every fourth word ends in ‘teek.’ A lot of their songs are old Baptist hymns, but it’s hard to remember the English when they’re singing. OK, that one’s Onward Christian Soldiers. Slept in hammock in church.
April 1
We’re going to Ixtapa this morning. It is probably a blessing that many years ago I was a typically dirty little boy who had to be frequently reminded to change various articles of clothing every day or so. Here, though I have the desire, alas, I do not always have the opportunity or the wherewithal to comply with my Mom’s exhortations. It is good, I suppose, that I have the strength of character from my youth to fall back on.
When you haven’t had a Pepsi in a long, long time, it’s almost like getting saved all over again!
I just realized I seldom hear the same song twice in church and they know them all by heart. Little kids really belt them out!
I found a tick between my fingers and one on my head during church. Now I’m imagining them in every unimaginable place.
After service, 14 of us went visiting. Remember, at this point, I’m the only gringo. House with dirt floor built on side of hill. Extreme poverty. 3 grown sisters, 5 kids, old man and woman, Manuel and Rosario. They might come up to my armpit. 2 rooms, beds on sticks. Carmelino and his group sang. Eufemio preached. They helped the old couple out into the middle of floor. He sat on homemade chair, preschool size. She stood behind him. He wept, tears dropping to dirt between gnarled toes and worn sandals. She moved her lips in silent prayer. More singing. A sanctuary of the Holy Spirit!
Another visit. 9:00 PM. Sick people, dirt poor. Spent much on doctors, no help.
April 2
I love Mexico. More importantly, I love Mexicans. One of the most clearly answered prayers I’ve ever experienced was 5 years ago when I started this ministry. “Lord, give me a love for the Mexican people,Your love, so real that they can sense it.”
Before visiting this morning, we gathered in a circle in the little shack they call a church building to read Bible, pray, each one of us lead in a song. Very simple, moving. I wish I could explain this to you. I wish you could be here. This is what Paul did, encouraging churches he had planted. Most gringos want to come build buildings; these folks are building the church.
15 (including one baby) went visiting together, to one house. Imagine that in the states! Just walked in like we were welcome. We were. Old man and wife, young man, 2 ladies with babies. One baby and old man sick. John 17:1-10. Prayer, singing, then most beautiful instrumental of Sweet Hour of Prayer I’ve ever heard. This poor family fed us, chicken soup with chayote and rice. I doubt they eat like this every day, but they feed guests well, even 15 people. Que Lindo es Mi Cristo, my all-time favorite song in any language, roughly translated, How Pretty is My Jesus.
Back to house we visited last night. Sick lady we prayed for is better. Nobody seems surprised. Read Psalms, always lots of Psalms read responsively. Prayer. Old lady wept, prayed and rejoiced. I peeked.
One of my buddies, Daniel noticed me just now writing everything down. I explained that Christians in the US pay my expenses and I want to remember stuff to communicate to them. Said I don’t really have any money of my own. He said, “In Mexico there is a saying, ‘If the Lord will keep the evangelist humble, the Church will keep him poor!'” He said it, I didn’t. I didn’t get into this ‘business’ for the money anyway.
Outhouse smells are stunning, would choke a buzzard. Hold your shirt over your mouth and nose with one hand and then don’t breathe til you’re outside, at least 15 feet away. But bad smells elicit pleasant memories of simpler days.
These mountain cows are tough, on the hillside and in the soup bowl. Patricio, the pastor at Ixtapa tried to give me an envelope, presumably the offering tonight. I refused. I never take any money here.
April 3
Fish for breakfast, eyes and all. Went to Huitchipan. I preached here last November. I just noticed lady of house wash out the garafon (water jug supposedly filled with purified drinking water) in the open tank and fill it up with water hose. I always pray, ‘Lord, bless this food and protect me from it.’
The Grandpa in me attracts little kids. They want to play ‘Como se dice en ingles?’ (How do you say this in English?) and then bombard me with words. Unless they are pointing at something-shoe, tree, etc., I can’t understand their Spanish. But then, I can’t understand my own grandkids either.
April 5
Back ‘home’ in Simojovel. I preached at main church, Psalm 91:1-4, Intimacy with Christ. Actually went well. Preached to Christians. Drenched in sweat.
April 6
Terri called. Said she was freezing, had the heat on. I didn’t think that was funny.
Drove to Bochil to find ATM. Bought some unidentifiable chicken parts at roadside grill. Didn’t buy chicken feet; I’ve seen where they walk. Turns out what I got was chicken necks. Hard to eat while driving curvaceous mountain road. Not bad taste. Good enough for my Grandma Mae. She always said she liked the neck and back the best. I think she just said that to let us have the good stuff. Don’t make grandmas like they used to. Sorry, Babe.
Went to Ribera. Way up extreme roads. Truck taking a beating down here. Mexicans call my truck ‘Macho,’ a nickname for a mule. Very poor village. Pastor Pedro sick. Asked me to pray for him. Read Psalm 91:1-3, 103:1-4 and Romans 8:28. Poor folks, all they can afford is Jesus. They don’t know any better than to just take the Bible at face value and trust the Lord. Glad they aren’t as educated as we are and can explain away the promises of God. William Grimshaw said ‘For God to deny His promises, He would have to lay aside His divinity and un-God Himself!’
April 7
Eufemio’s lamb died today. I saw her this morning; she was fine. They said it was snakebite. Nauyaca , very poisonous snake found only here in Chiapas and in Oaxaca, a neighboring state and in Guatemala.
April 8
Went to Chiquin Shulum. The roughest, steepest, rockiest, bouncingest, crawling climb so far. Jungle on top of mountain. Expect to see Tarzan, Sasquatch, Chupacabra, or at least, Juan Valdez around next corner. Every bolt, nut and gasket shook loose. That’s just in me, not talking about my truck. The old preachers would say we’re 40 miles beyond the Great Commission. They didn’t mean that anymore than I do. They don’t speak Spanish here.
These are some of the cutest little Indian kids. It doesn’t last long though. Women seem sad, may just be tired. Look old, but still nursing babies. Reminds me of a book about pioneer Wyoming, Hell on Horses and Women.
Chicken and rice and potato soup, again. I skipped the posol, a corn squeezins drink. The women squeeze it with their hands. I’ll pass. Pastor asked me at supper how long since I’ve seen my wife. One month. They were impressed. He said, jokingly, ‘Yeah, but he’s an evangelist!’ I said, ‘Si, pero soy hombre, tambien.’ (Yeah, but I’m a man, too.) They all fell apart laughing. It was funnier than I intended. I told Daniel I’m going to pray for an ugly wife for him so he wouldn’t mind travelling and preaching. It’s hard for me to leave home.
April 9
Baptism in river.
April 10
I’ve been wanting to go to Chamula. Have been since I heard about it last time I was here. They still persecute Christians (evangelicals.) They’re Catholics, but ‘Tradicionalistas’, mixed with Indian religion and traditions, withcraft, animism (spirits in everything.) Can be arrested or killed for handing out tracts or Gospels or for preaching. There is a video on the internet someone took secretly on their cell phone inside the Chamula ‘church.’ Candles all over the floor, so called ‘exorcism’ taking place. Talk about Satan casting out Satan! In 1994 a pastor was hung there. A couple of years ago, a young man, just married, was tortured and beaten by mob, rope tied around his neck and jerked around until choked to death. My Mexican brothers don’t want me to go. These people are not the enemy. They are POWs. God is going to call out the called among them. I’m just going there to pray for now. The pastor said don’t even carry a Bible or a tract in my truck.
Benjamin and Daniel, against my wishes, insisted on going with me. I don’t want to expose them to danger. I may be wrong, but I think a gringo might be safer than Mexican Christians. I promised we wouldn’t do anything but walk and pray.
Today is Friday, of Semana Santa (‘Holy Week’), Good Friday. There are thousands of people in Chamula. Took pictures in front of ‘church’ until stopped by officials with nightsticks. I get the distinct impression that to preach or hand out Gospels would incite a riot, like a match to gasoline. Effigy of Judas hanging from belltower. Hundreds of candles in front of church. Official came over and slapped Daniel on arm and told him we couldn’t take pictures in front of church. Only incident. Witnessed to boys ‘guarding’ my pickup.
Back at Simojovel. 5 minutes notice to preach. Matthew 27. In English, anytime, in Spanish, very stressful. In season and out.
April 12 Easter
Evangelicals don’t do Easter here. Probably an overreaction to Catholic excesses. For them, Semana Santa is a drunken orgy. Slept in pickup bed. Did I say ‘slept?’ Why do they call that a ‘bed?’ Soaked with dew. My buddy, Eugenio, mentally challenged, speech impediment, listening to music on earphones (which no one else could hear), started ‘singing’ loudly at 4:00AM. I got in the cab of my truck with my earphones listening to a Duncan Campbell sermon on the Lewis Revival. Eugenio climbs into back of my truck to continue his concert.
Had 3 small, wrinkled oranges. After eating half of first orange, noticed worms crawling amongst peels. Abandoned orange #1. Ate the other two, no signs of life. NOTE: I only saw WHOLE worms on ground, no squirming halves. That would be somewhat discouraging. Did brush my teeth again, though. Now, what did I do with that floss? Later, sardine soup. Trust the worms enjoy it.
April 13
Picked up second team, folks from FBC, Quitman, Texas. Good to hear English, if you call East Texas English!
This week we handed out 2320 Luke/Acts. Good people from Texas. Their church has adopted this region since they were here with me last November. They’ll be coming here regularly.
We went from Simojovel to San Cristobal. Had to pass through Chamula, the place of persecution. They wanted to see it. My truck was loaded down with luggage and Gospels. I waited by truck while they walked around town and took pictures. Two boys wanted to shine my boots. Old man walked up and said something I couldn’t understand. Maybe wanted money. We were parked by that church with the hanging Judas. I asked if that was his church. It was, of course. I asked him how he received forgiveness of sin in his church. Typical answer, confess to priest, do good works, etc. I didn’t say anything else. I was responsible for the safety of the team who were out shopping. Remember, they still kill Christians here. After a brief pause, the old man looked me in the eye and asked, ‘Do you have a Bible for me?’
What could I do? I was sitting on the tailgate of ‘Macho’, leaning back against a box of Gospels. I said, ‘Yes, Sir, I sure do.’ He took it in his hand as gently as if I were handing him a crystal music box, kissed it, held it to his heart, and turned and walked away. I figure I might as well give the boys Gospels and witnessed to them. The group came back about then. I told them the get in the truck, we have to get out of here right now. One of the men kept saying the atmosphere there was evil and threatening.
The rest of trip was routine, taking the team back to airport, taking two days to drive from the very bottom of Mexico back home. Home is wherever my wife is.
5863 miles roundtrip. 45 days without a bath. They have showers.
This is a not for profit evangelistic association dependant upon the grace of God and the generosity of His people for support.