July 18, 2006. That date is marked in the back of my pocket Bible, and reminds me of a cold night, high in the Andes--one of the greatest nights of my life.
Beside that date is a name and small commentary: “Erlinda (12 yrs.), Comunidad: Chanta (cerca Limatambo, 2 horas).” All that I have to do is read that entry and my mind traverses over 3,000 miles into the Andes Mountains, to the secluded Quechua community of Chanta.
There had been a small, mud-brick church constructed there in Chanta (This is somewhat of a rarity as many Quechua communities do not have a ‘building,’ or even a meeting, local body of believers). We went there with the local pastor from Limatambo in a bright yellow station wagon to hold a night service. As the powerful sun went down over the mountains welcoming the crisp, cool air, Quechua people could be seen walking, making there way to the small building (some with circa 1970s flashlights in hand). We surveyed the building, greeted the people, and waited for the service to commence.
It started out as an ordinary night, the local minister spoke, our team was presented, and I was able to share the Gospel message. This is when the transfer from ordinary night to “one of the greatest nights” begun to take place. That’s when I met Erlinda. She was the only one to approach us at the end of the service, and the look on her 12 year old face was of one that had truly discovered an amazing treasure-the power of Jesus Christ. Luckily, Erlinda spoke Spanish (not just Quechua), making it easier, and we went through every Scripture from Romans 3:23 to 2 Corinthians 5:15 to make sure that she fully understand salvation, Jesus and what this new life was all about. Then, she prayed to receive Christ. A glorious celebration ensued.
I cannot explain the joy I experienced riding down the mountain in that over-packed station wagon (A situation that I soon would experience many more times). I am not sure exactly why Erlinda’s conversion, specifically, has stuck with me so much over the years. Her name, haphazardly scribbled in the back of my Bible is a constant reminder, though, to pray for her.
Today, Erlinda would be around 16 years old. I haven’t seen her since that cold, miraculous night, but I long to return. I remember praying with her, encouraging her to stay strong and keep seeking Him and praying that I would be able to return one day. It is my prayer that she is growing as a mighty woman of God. A voice for Him on the mountain.
We get wrapped up with many things in life, church and every other aspect of life, but that, my friend, is what it’s all about-lives coming to Him in transformation. That was literally, a mountain top experience in life, and I long for many, many more. That is a place that I am called to, a people I love and that continues to give me determination to see it all through. What is He calling you to? Who are those people around you that need Him?
Sadly, I have forgotten many things that people have told me over the years, but one that continues to stick with me, and sometimes wakes me at night, was told to me by an 85 year old man. His name is Reese and he accompanied me to give out Christmas gifts to Quechua villages in December of 2007. We stopped on the side of the road and gave a Gospel presentation where 10 ladies prayed to receive Christ in a ditch (another awesome experience). As we all got back in the van, tears flowing, Reese stopped in his tracks, turned and looked me straight in the eyes and said, “How can you go back to dispatching (my ex-job) after this?” God used Reese that day, and my answer to that question: “I can’t.”
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