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November 1986 Newsletter
COLOMBIAN CHRISTIAN MISSION
Dale and Jeanie Meade
In the jungle and prairie of Southeastern Colombia
Volume 14, Issue 11 November, 1986
PETER'S EIGHT YEAR TURN AROUND
His words were slurred by excessive alcohol intake. But his intent was clear. I was standing at the door of the church building, greeting the brethren as they arrived for the wedding. I could hear the angry shouts as he came from behind the churches' lot. As he rounded the corner, I could see that he carried two rocks, each about the size of a grapefruit. One of the Colombian preachers heard the ruckus and came out to stand beside me. "This could mean trouble" he exclaimed. As the drunk approached the door, we stepped in his way and blocked his entrance. "Let me by," he shouted, "I am going to bet rid of the Evangelicals." We stood our ground and push came to shove. Fortunately he did not decide to use his rocks on us. He gripped them firmly as he tried to push by us. All of the while his eyes were fixed on the people inside. By now the disturbance at the door had attracted the attention of the people inside. Two members of the church are policemen. Fortunately for us, they had both come to church directly from work and were wearing their uniforms. They got their heads together, formed a plan, and came to our aid. Carrying their nightsticks, one loudly shouted at the other, "There he is. Grab him and we'll take him to the station for booking." The drunken man assumed that someone had called the police and that they had been sent out to get him. He bolted and ran. They ploy had worked. We were left in peace to finish our service that night.
All of this took place nearly eight years ago. About a year later the man's son was converted to the Gospel. The teenager quit drinking, smoking, and running around. His father responded by throwing the boy out of the house. One of the families in the church took him in and gave him a job. I began taking him around with me in the evenings to home Bible studies. He progressed rapidly. Still very young, but having been matured by his rough life, he married one of the girls from the church. Today, the two of them are ministering with the church in Palmeras, a church that was started during out last term here in Colombia.
During this time, his drunken step-father had sold his house and moved out to a small farm. When asked why he always responded that he wanted to get away from the evangelicals. But at the farm, two things happened. His preacher son insisted in taking the new grandson home for visits and his presence was tolerated, if just barely. While there he always shared his faith. Also, in the wee hours of the morning, when farmers must be up and about, the bitter enemy of the gospel liked to listen to the radio for company. The only problem was that at that hour of the morning, Trans-World Radio overpowered the local stations. And so much to his consternation, the only thing he could get on his radio was the gospel station.
So in spite of himself, Peter began to listen to God's Word. At first, his every effort was directed at finding something to criticize or attack. But slowly God began to work in his life and that hard heart began to soften. The gospel seed, once planted there, began to sprout and take root. And eight years after the last time I had seen him, he again showed up at the church building. Once again I was at the door greeting the brethren. But this time he was not drunk. And he was carrying no rocks. Instead of threats he shouted a greeting.
Not knowing what had happened during the past eight years, I was skeptical. But after church he came up and gave me a warm handshake. With an overwhelming joy he told me he wanted to give his life to the Lord and be baptized. Out baptistry was down for repairs and our car had been loaned to someone visiting one of the churches. So we could not baptize him then and there. But we did make plans to visit his farm two days later.
On Tuesday morning, we loaded up my car and a pick-up belonging to one of the brethren. After a half an hour we left the road and headed up a small trace. An hour later we arrived at the farm. We visited for a while and then headed for the river. There a man who had once threatened the lives of many of the people present, was buried with his Lord in Christian baptism. His wife was baptized at the same time. Afterwards they insisted that we stay for a meal. The only problem was, it had begun to rain. But here it is difficult to reject country hospitality, so we stayed. As the sun began to settle over the mountains to the West we decided that it was time to leave. The jeep was in four-wheel drive. It spun a little but made it out to the road. The other vehicle did not. I went back and we tried to push, but to no avail. So I returned with the jeep and hooked a cable on to the truck. My little jeep growled up the mountain, skidding from side to side. I occasionally got stuck too. But in the end we made it out. It was getting dark and we were all covered with mud. Everyone was dead tired. But our hearts were full of joy. What had seemed unlikely, even impossible, had come to pass. Peter had given his life to the Lord and had let behind the drunkenness that had once bound him. The former persecutor became a new proponent of the Gospel.