Lord, I want to be a Christian in my heart

The mission delegation from Crescent Hill Presbyterian Church, Louisville, Kentucky was at the end of their Guatemala journey. It had been a week outside their comfort zone but inside the embrace of the indigenous Kek’chi people.

Something holy happened in the steamy little fishing village of El Estor, situated on the blue waters of Lago Izabal. But at this moment the gathered gringos, 8 youth and 11 adults (plus their PRESGOV hosts), had gathered for their final reflection time on the rooftop patio of El Carmen Hotel in the cobblestone, Guatemalan gem of a town called Antigua.

Sitting in a circle in the shadows of two majestic volcanoes, the group was trying to bring to speech what their week had meant to them. They spoke of many things and thought of others:

• the hospitality of the Kek’chi women who had boiled to perfection chicken-caldo- with-vegetables over the open fire; the fresh, steamed tilapia, just caught from the lake, stuffed with tomatoes;
  the blisters, like badges of courage, on the hands of suburban teenagers, part and parcel of two full days of hauling sand and mixing concrete in stifling heat so that dirt-poor families could have the dignity of a decent floor;
  
• the tri-lingual banter of Presbyterian pastors, elders and deacons during a leadership training event, encountering The Word amidst foreign words with accents not one’s own;
  
• the simply drawn pictures of a typical day in the life of a Kek’chi woman, sketched by Presbyterian mujeres, sleeping babies strapped to their backs or nursing at their breasts;
  
• shy youth and bold ones too talking across the great cultural divide about their hopes and dreams, wondering about their future, pondering where God is in all this;
  
• the boat ride through Bocaron Canyon where Mayan warriors once paddled their hand-hewn barcos, the distant cry of the owl echoing off craggy rock formations that looked like the profile of Tecún Umán himself, Guatemala’s national hero;
  
• lively worship set to the rhythm of clapping hands and the mellow marimba, Guatemala’s national instrument;
  
• God’s spectacular surprise: los colores of a rainbow on their first day of travel, foreshadowing the promise of God’s unmistakable presence at the host church, Iglesia Arco de Noe (Noah’s Ark Church).

Then one of the women from Crescent Hill spoke, as if weaving all these myriad thoughts and feelings together into a vibrant tapestry so typical to the Guatemalans: “Throughout this week, I have never felt so much like a Christian.”

There was silence.

It was like this journey inward into some deep and sacred space and this journey outward into genuine friendship, partnership and solidarity with Kek’chi brothers and sisters revealed what Jesus’ disciples have always looked and longed for.

Mission service does not get much better than this.

J. David Wiseman, PC(USA) Mission Co-Worker
PRESGOV Coordinator, Guatemala