The Beauty of the Beast

The beast described in Revelation 13 is a formidable foe. But when I decided to preach a revelation series to our newly formed church here in Peru, I knew it would have to be reckoned with. My nervousness was two-fold. For one, I would be revealing this beast power to Peruvians, whose country is 85 percent Catholic. And secondly, well, I would be preaching to Peruvians, who speak Spanish. And while my Spanish has come a long ways, I’ve still got a long ways to go.

For these reasons, if you would have stumbled upon my cabin here in the jungle of Peru a month ago, you would have found me preaching late in the evening to my bunk bed and the jungle crickets outside, who gave me the same monotonous droning no matter how passionate my appeals. At times, you would have found me flinging my Spanish dictionary across the room, frustrated that I couldn’t word a phrase exactly how I wanted, its meaning compromised in translation. Honing the message just right was a long and arduous process, but when Wednesday nights came around, I was ready.

And the first beast sermon went well, albeit there were only ten people in attendance. After preparing so extensively for these things, I fantasized about preaching to a stadium full of people. The lord, however, has many ways to keep a student missionary humble. But ten is better than none, and as they left I reminded them not to miss next Wednesday night’s sermon on “The Lady in Red.” I thought perhaps a fancy title for a sermon on Bablyon might bring more people.

And whether it was the mysterious title, or the better weather, or the fact that folks just wanted to see a white boy raving about some beasts in broken Spanish, a few more did make it to the next Wednesday night meeting. Again I preached my heart out, and let the Holy Spirit fill in the gaps in the language. At the end of the meeting I told the dozen or so people who had missed the beast message the previous week that it was crucial to hear that one before they heard the next sermon on the mark of the beast. We all agreed on having an extra meeting Friday night to catch up.

Friday night arrived, and almost an hour early, in walked my friend Dora with a woman and four small children who I hadn’t seen before. Dora pulled me aside and explained that this woman was her neighbor. The woman, who I’ll call Maria, had recently found her husband in her own bed with another woman. A day later the husband left Maria and her four children. The distraught woman, having no one else to turn to, came to her neighbor Dora (recently baptized in our church). Dora, doing the logical thing, decided to bring her to church on the night that I was preaching on the beast of revelation 13!

I reckon all would have been sort of well if more people had shown up. A group of believers would have been there to console Maria. But no one else did. Seven o’clock came and went and the only people sitting in the small rustic church were Dora, Maria, and her four children. I stepped outside and looked up at the stars to question God. What do I do Lord? This woman needs counseling and a shoulder to cry on, not a discourse on little horn powers and apostate Christianity. She doesn’t even know the Sabbath truth! Surely Lord, I should just sit down, listen to her story, and call it a night. I, however, got the distinct impression that I should continue with the message that I had prepared. Shaking my head I walked back into the church and began to preach.

And preach I did, imagining the church was full. Starting in Daniel I laid out characteristics of the little horn power and their implications. I moved to revelation 13 to draw parallels. I furiously wrote on my white board that I normally use to teach English so my five member audience could visualize the web of Bible prophecy. Throughout the presentation, Maria was breastfeeding her child. Occasionally, when the other three kids would become restless, she’d wrangle them in with one arm while holding her son, still feeding, with the other. Her face was incredibly stoic. There were no amen’s or pensive looks, but a poker face throughout the lesson. Even as I was preaching, I couldn’t believe I was doing it. “This is not what she needs!” my mind was screaming.

Her seven-year-old daughter, the eldest child, wasn’t helping my confidence either. She listened, but with the most incredulous look on her face. She had one eyebrow raised and she wasn’t smiling. Even when I tried to coax a laugh out of her as I acted out the bear of Daniel seven, the eyebrows only rose higher and I detected a slight role of the eyes.
I finished with a tactful appeal explaining how Catholics were our friends and how the sermon wasn’t an attack on them but the devil and his conniving. We finished with prayer. I was glad it was over, just knowing that I had been mistaken by preaching a beast of a message to a grieving mother.

Then something amazing happened. As she stood to leave, she smiled- the first break of the stoic face. She firmly shook my hand and told me thank you very much for the message. She then asked me when the next meeting was. I was stunned, and stammered something about meeting the next morning for church. We have church on Sabbath I said. She told me she’d be there.

And she was. She was there the next morning, and the next Wednesday night. In fact she came almost every time the church door was open for the rest of the time I worked at that site (about a month). And as far as I know, she is still attending that church.

I praise God. I praise Him for his wisdom in knowing what is best, and knowing just what people need to hear. I praise Him for the work of His Holy Spirit, without which, this gringo kid playing pastor with broken Spanish would never have made an impact on anyone. I praise him for giving the Adventist church this message. Now, I am not advocating that we go around preaching the beast to single, grieving moms. If you want that tactic to work, come to Peru where the ground is incredibly fertile. I am however, advocating the simple preaching and sharing of the word of God. We are the only church preaching this end time message. And if an abandoned mother of four was thirsty for it. I have good reason to believe the rest of the world is too.