I was lost in the Mountains...to see God

Sunday morning I returned to the Hispanic church in the log cabin, that I had stumbled upon when I was lost the night before**.  I was welcomed warmly by my new friends, Pastor Felipe and his wife Francis.  They introduced me to the others in the church of which on the front row was their newly ordained Deacon, Walter from El Salvador and his friend Raul.  Before services began, Pastor Felipe told a little about who I was and mentioned that I needed to interview some people not born in the U.S. for my training assignment.  Raul leaned over and told me that he spoke a little English and volunteered to talk to me.  We visited a little before church in mixed English and Spanish (what little I know).  Raul was born in El Salvador but because of his expertise in the auto industry, came to the United States in 1969 to work.  He and his wife live in Maryland, but also have a place in North Carolina that he was currently staying at for a while.  They raised their children in the states and Raul loves being a grandpa.  That’s about as far as we got before church started and decided to continue our conversation after church.

The El Salvadoran and Mexican voices mixed in harmony as they worshiped together.  Not quite the same as Hondurans, but I still felt like I was home.  There was a family of 15 visiting Sunday, so there were several children.  When Felipe asked if I wanted to help Francis, I jumped at the chance to be a part of children’s ministry.   We walked with the children down the path that led to a small plant room off of their cabin that was children’s church.  Francis taught the lesson in Spanish and the children absorbed every word she said.  When we returned the children to church, they sang ‘This little light of mine’ in English and Spanish. 

After church, Raul and I resumed our conversation, as he continued to tell me about his life and family.  Everyone else had been visiting and talking, but suddenly they all left the cabin and shut the door just as I asked Raul the question ‘so when did you become a Christian’?  He looked at me as if he didn’t understand, so in Spanish I asked ‘when did you accept Christ in your heart’?  He simply said ‘I have not’.  My mind was spinning.  I thought the men on the front row were the regular attenders, but how could I have just assumed Raul was a Christian?  Then my heart started racing as I realized Raul was why I was here.  He was why I got lost and as I prayed for God to show me where to go, found the little church sign in the middle of nowhere. 

 I closed my notebook and moved it behind me and told Raul that we were no longer having an interview.  I needed to speak to him heart to heart.  I asked him why he was there to which he explained that he came with Walter to find out more about being a Christian.  He had a Catholic background and really didn’t understand everything, so just was checking things out.  We talked for a long time as I answered his questions in a childlike version of the Gospel.  I could tell God was dealing with Raul, and then he asked me if I ever talk to God or hear Him speak.  I said most definitely!  I told him about me getting lost, talking to God in my car and then finding the church in the middle of nowhere.   I told him that I believed that God sent me there to talk to him.  Our conversation went on for a while and finally Raul said that he was an old man and had to think about all of this and needed to go for now.  I would have loved for him to have accepted Christ right there, but I trust that God is still working on Raul’s heart and in His timing, will draw him in His arms of love.

After Raul left, Pastor Felipe told me that he sensed that I was witnessing to Raul, so they were outside the door praying while I was talking to him. He thought that Raul was why I was there.   I stayed out under the shade tree a while holding a baby and visiting with the kids and actually got my final interview from a 10 year old boy, Celso, who moved to the U.S. from Mexico when he was 1 year old.  Then I had lunch with Pastor Felipe and Francis and learned more about their time as missionaries to Mexico and connected the dots of their life, ministry and the people that I had met that day.  When they moved back to this area, Francis turned down better job offers, to be a translator at the hospital.  This allows her to stay in touch with the migrant workers and others whom she speaks their heart language and gives her a great opportunity for ministry.  In translating, she had met the woman who brought the family of 15, with my little friend Celso.  Felipe had met Walter through a mutual friend that he served in a prison ministry with.  Walter a recently ordained deacon, had invited Raul whom I’m pretty sure will be talking and listening to God on his own pretty soon.  J

At the end of the day, yes, I got my interviews.  But more importantly, I was reminded of how God orchestrates so many lives and circumstances to bring us into the place we need to be…to see HIM. 

 

**This blog post is a continuation of "The assignment that had me whining to God, lost in the mountains and almost in tears…"
http://cm-jeremiah29-11.blogspot.com/2012/06/assignment-that-had-me-whining-to-god.html?spref=fb

The assignment that had me whining to God, lost in the mountains and almost in tears…

One of our cultural awareness assignments for this weekend was to find 3 people who had moved to the states from another country, have an in-depth conversation with them and write a reflection paper on what we found out.  I must admit, this is not one of my favorite assignments.  I’ve came a long way from the girl who had to have her older sister do all the talking for her, but not THAT far.  As my classmates went their separate ways for the weekend in search of their subjects, I was getting sick just thinking about it.  Finally, I made myself get in the car and travel to the nearest town where I had seen a Mexican Restaurant.  I never go inside a restaurant to eat alone, so this in itself was a challenge.  I finally get up the nerve to go in, ask for a booth and take my seat.  

My mind was racing to think of a conversation starter.   After a couple of visits from my waiter, I asked him in Spanish if he knew where a Spanish speaking church is in this area.  He smiled and asked how I knew Spanish and so I was able to proceed with finding out a little about him.  Each trip he made to my table, I would ask a little bit more.  I found out his name is Jose, from Vera Cruz Mexico.  He lived in Tennessee for four years before moving to North Carolina.  His family is still in Mexico and he misses them terribly as well as the friendly people of his home country.   He loves his job and the money that he makes here.

Now that is as far as I got, because apparently a single girl, dining alone, practicing her ‘listening skills’ and being too interested in the personal life of her waiter, can come across as hitting on him.  So I realized when he handed me a paper and asked for my address that the interview was over.

I left the restaurant feeling defeated, but then I remembered that I had the address of the Spanish speaking church Jose had given me.  Maybe I could meet someone there to interview.  If not, at least I could worship in Spanish tonight.  It started at 7pm, so I had just enough time to get there.  I put the address in my GPS and headed out.  After many twists and turns, the GPS said that I had reached my destination…the middle of an intersection.  There was no church in sight.  I went each direction looking for the church and found nothing. 

I headed back in the direction that I thought would get me back to the main road and somehow ended up heading out in the country.   I was whining to God about this assignment that I didn’t want to do, the fact that I didn’t even get to go to church and asking Him to help me find my way back.   I pulled over to turn around and head back the other way, when suddenly I saw a sign that said Baptist Church in Spanish.  It wasn’t the one I was looking for, but I thought I should check it out anyway.  As I started down the gravel road that quickly turned to a mountainous trail, I once again thought I was lost.  I had no choice but to keep going up the narrow, steep trail to find a place to turn around.  Then, in the middle of the woods, there was a log cabin with a church sign pointing to it.  There were no cars in sight.  As I began to turn around, a man came out to talk to me.  I explained I was lost and he proceeded to tell me about their Hispanic ministry they had started in the little log cabin behind their log cabin.  He introduced me to his wife and son and invited me inside. 

They were fascinating people, who were missionaries in Mexico for 15 years and now are serving here in the states.  As I sat in their living room for a few hours listening to their life stories, I felt blessed.  I chuckled inside thinking that I thought I was so afraid of speaking to a stranger, yet here I sat in the cabin of strangers, who suddenly felt like friends.  They’ve invited me back for church in the morning, and I'm looking forward to it.   

The assignment that had me whining to God, lost in the mountains and almost in tears…ended up a blessing!  I can't help but think God knew where I was going all along.