Juarez, Mexico: Part VIII

It was the end of the week and we were all tired.
The heat, combined with a busy schedule, and little sleep in some cases, was definitely setting in.

After working at VBS all morning and then grabbing lunch and dinner at our dorm, we headed back out into the dusty streets to an evangelistic event organized by Ramon's church.

We met at the "park" or rather, what they called a park.

It was an uneven, dirt field in the middle of a neighborhood. Children brought their soccer balls and dogs to the park to play the beloved game and hang out.

Ramon's wife, Delfina, pulled their van forward and we began unloading equipment. The church's karaoke machine and mics, stacks of chairs, and a pop-up shade structure were set up to stage our outreach.

We performed a dance and a skit for the group of church members in attendance, and other members of my team lead worship.

It didn't seem like many people outside of the church had come.

Ramon began his sermon, speaking to the people in their houses.

He told them that he knew there were people in their homes at that moment who had poor marriages, were struggling with addictions and their children were out on the streets, involved in gangs and violence.

He told them his story of redemption, when he met Christ for the first time.

As he finished his powerful speech, he told the leaders and our group that we were to pray for anyone who asked for it, to gather around them when they stood.

He asked "if there's anyone here who wants to begin a personal relationship with Christ---this is not about religion or doing the right things---we will pray for you."

An old woman in the back stood, a few tears running down her cheeks. All of our team gathered around her and I walked over, as well.

Ramon prayed a general prayer in Spanish and then was silent.
No one in our group said a word.

I began praying the best that I could in Spanish. The words that kept coming to my mind were "Come, Lord into this woman's heart. Give her peace and help her to know you better."

When we were finished, I hugged her and she smiled, tears still coming down her face.

I never got to ask her if this was her first time committing her life to Christ, but I could tell that she had been touched.

Though I couldn't connect with her completely on a language level, my heart could feel her desire and her pain.

I might not know her name, but I'm going to continue to pray for her and others in Juarez, who have yet to meet Christ.