Colombian Christian Mission

COLOMBIAN CHRISTIAN MISSION
Dale and Jeanie Meade
In the jungle and prairie of Southeastern Colombia
Volume 12, Issue 4 April, 1984

A TRIP TO LAS CAMELIAS

(PHOTO)

The winding river becomes a "map" as Dale flies over the jungle without the aid of radio signals or accurate maps. The river and landmarks are his only means of locating his destination.

Here in Colombia, we work with two types of churches. The ones that you read about in our newsletters are churches that we have started and have guided in New Testament doctrine from the beginning. These churches are generally very stable. In our ten years here in Colombia there has been only one case of a split among these churches. My visits to the country and our leadership courses all are aimed primarily at this group of congregations. Our efforts, however, are not limited exclusively to these brethren. From the very beginning we have visited and taught among independent congregations that have invited us. Since we are strictly New Testament in our teaching, we are often accepted by them where denominational missionaries would be rejected. They realize that we are not simply trying to swallow them up. We have no organization to swell. We simply, try to get everyone to return to the simply, ancient order found in the New Testament. We do not include these churches in our publicity because we did not start them we have no way of knowing how long we will work with them. The "Las Camilias" group of churches is a perfect example of this aspect of our ministry.
Up in the Northern part of Colombia, there is a vast isolated section of prairie. In the rainy season this entire region is accessible only by air. Even in the dry season to reach any part of it requires several days travel over rough roads. During the Colombian "Holy Inquisition" in the 50's, thousands of evangelical Christians fled their lives to this remote region. The area was (and still is) so remote that there are no missionaries actively working in the region. As a result a large group of indigenous churches sprang up. Their doctrine is a mixture of what the old timers brought with them and what has developed since them. In many ways these churches resemble the Restoration Movement in the States. We have known about this group for many years. Once, another missionary made a 20 day trip with some Colombian brethren to visit them. But since then, no one has been back. The work here, plus family responsibilities, made these long trips impossible.
When we were able to buy the airplane, all of that changed. The vast expanses of prairie and jungle no longer required days, even weeks to cross. The raging tropical rivers were no longer the uncrossable barrier that they once were. Now, with three hours of flight time, we can reach the remotest corner of the area. We began to visit the Christians there with more regularity. This month I made a visit to Las Camilias. I flew up with two Colombian preachers. One of them knew the area and would serve as a guide. There are no radio beacons or maps of the area, so even in an airplane you have to follow rivers and horse trails. We flew due north for two hours. Then I dropped down low so our guide could pick out the land marks. Things happen so fast at 120 miles an hour and before long we picked out the village nestled on the edge of the Andes mountains and the jungle. The houses were arranged around a pasture field that had been cut to look like a cross. The cross formed two streets of the tiny town. It is a Christian village and normally has only 50 inhabitants. But this day the population had swollen to over 600 people as people came into town from the surrounding area. They were going to hold a revival. We were to be the speakers.
I buzzed the longer stretch of pasture for two purposes. I wanted to warn the brethren that I would be coming in for a landing. Also I wanted to look it over to see if it was long enough and smooth enough for a safe landing. It seemed to be about 1200 feet long. At one end there was a steep gully that dropped off into the jungle below. At the other end was a big mountain. I decided to land towards the mountain and take off towards the gully. I circled for my approach. I came in steep and held the plane on the edge of the gully and plopped firmly on the sod a few feet beyond. The town dogs chased me down main street as the plane rolled to a stop in front of the church building. For the next three days it was a spiritual festival. They butchered a cow every day to feed the people. Church services often lasted several hours. The days were filled with classes.
Monday morning soon arrived and it was time to head back to Villavicencio. I had paced off the strip. It would be long enough, but there was no room to spare. We said our customary prayer with a little more fervor. I pushed forward the throttle and the plane surged forward. We lifted off as the end of the grass passed beneath. The trails were filled with people, heading off in every direction towards their home. I was impressed by the fact that we had a two hour flight, but many of them would spend an entire day walking. I thanked God for their faith and for the privilege of working with you, to serve them.