Jungle Warfare

We start with a battle hymn. I and the four other warriors gather around a Spanish hymnal and belt out a song. It’s an upbeat one that speaks of working in the “vineyard of the Lord”. As we sing, a certain energy runs through the group. An energy that only comes from knowing you are about to step out onto the front lines and do battle. And its not just any battle, but one against “principalities and powers and rulers of darkness.” When I read verses like that, I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. Yes, a battle song is definitely necessary.

The song finishes. We have prayer and embark, each to our respective communities. The front line for me is a squatter’s community, or invasion community, in the jungle of Peru. The streets are incredibly dusty, and they are littered with the mangiest looking dogs you’ve ever seen. The houses are patchwork jobs of cardboard boxes, aluminum, and thatch. Its no paradise, but then again, front lines normally aren’t

I make my way to Victor’s house, my first student. When I first came to his home, a few weeks earlier, the whole household of nine was sitting outside enjoying the shade of evening. I explained a little about our mission and how I wanted to study the Bible with the family. Victor was the only one interested. I always looked forward to studying with this 24 year old because unlike most of my other students, he hasn’t really ever heard of the most basic Bible principals.

Today I teach lesson five and six of a twenty lesson set. Lessons five and six deal with salvation and the pardon of sins. He listens with wrapped excitement and wonder as I share the story of Jesus and his sacrifice and how if Victor were the only person in the world who needed salvation, Christ still would have died for him. The lessons are question and answer format. I have Victor read the questions, but he starts to choke up near the end. Admitedly, I have a lump in my throat as I watch the power of divine love bring a man to accept Christ for the first time.

As I move on the next house. I feel so humbled by the fact that a man’s eternal life is no longer in question, as it was just a half an hour before.

My next student is Pedro. As soon as I walk in the door, the first question he asks me is what church I’m from, something that hasn’t come up before. As a rule I don’t tell my students what church I’m from right off the bat. I tell them I’m Christian and am here to teach them the Bible. But since he asked, I tell Pedro I´m a Seventh Day Adventist. His face lights up and he tells me the story of his son. A boy who dabbled in everything the word had to offer until a missionary got a hold of him. The father said he hardly recognized the boy, as his life had been completely changed. The missionary was a Seventh Day Adventist. Pedro can’t wait to complete the lessons and join his son in the faith.

Not everyone is that easy to reach. I go to Monica’s house next. She acts kind of bothered by my presence and tells me she’s busy and to come back later. The problem is, that’s what she told me the last time and the time before that. Its time to let her go. I bid her good day and as I walk away, I draw a line through the name “Monica” on my sheet. We had made it to lesson four, just before the salvation lesson. I walk with my head down for a little while.

The next family cheers me up. They are a lively bunch with eleven kids. With Peruvian music blaring in the background, children pulling my hair, and ducks waddling in and out of the house, we make it through lesson five and six with time to spare. They insist I stay for lunch. I´m served up a heaping bowl of cooked alligator chunks. I plunge chunks into my mouth and assure the woman of the house that it’s the best alligator I´ve ever had. I´m going to have a hard time explaining myself when we get to lesson 17, the health message.

Re-energized by broiled alligator, I´m ready for the afternoon. I continue from house to house, teaching and explaining the Good Book. Some students show great interest and nod enthusiastically throughout the lessons. Others simply stare at their lessons, without saying a word, making me feel like I’m teaching a statue. The ones I really enjoy are those that ask questions. Omer, one student, asks me things like, “if God is love, why did he send the flood?” Today, when I explain lesson five, he asks me if I would die on a cross for anyone. I said I probably wouldn´t.

The last lesson of the day is with Yoshi, a 24 year old mom with a two year old son. She´s heard lesson five and six before. In fact she´s heard the exact lessons. Adventists had come to the community in which she used to live. She told me that she was scared of Baptism, lesson 19, and didn´t finish. I told her we would take one lesson at a time, and I would do my best not to force anything. Today after we finished studying, she tells me her story. The father of her two year old, and the baby she will have in a month, is a drug addict. He left her several months ago and is living on the street. Tears started streaming down her cheeks as she told me how close she came to becoming a prostitute so she could feed her son. Thank God I didn´t come to that point, she says as she wipes her face with her shirt. Before I leave, I tell her that it isn´t by chance that she is studying the lessons for a second time, or that a white boy from southern United States was in her house teaching the Bible. “God is searching for you, Yoshi”, I say. We have prayer and I leave.
I make my way back to our camp. The other warriors are coming in too, their swords in hand. They look just as tired as I do, but we all have smiles on our faces. Then comes one of my favorite parts; over supper we all share our battle stories. They too have eaten strange things today. They too have heard stories of anguish and sadness. They too have led others to accept Christ for the first time. Our hearts are thrilled as we talk and sing late into the night. We lay our swords down and go to our respective tents to sleep. We all know that with lesson ten still ahead, the Sabbath, the struggle in these tiny homes in Peru is just beginning. But that also means that the finest hour of battle is yet to come.