by Davey Jank, as told to Debbie Burgett January 31, 2006
The village meeting place was filled beyond capacity. The press of people around me made the muggy jungle heat seem even worse. I sat on a tiny little bench that was certainly not carved with my creature comfort in mind. My knees were pulled up to my chin and I had to lean forward to avoid the wet clay wall behind me. And blood-sucking gnats seemed to be enjoying my flesh immensely. But I wouldn’t have missed this day for the world.
It all began in a Maco village in Venezuela several years ago. After nearly a year of teaching God’s message to the Maco people, it had been our turn to listen. And we missionaries then sat in tears as the people expressed their simple yet profound faith in God and their acceptance of His free gift of salvation.
But that was only the beginning.
A year later, when the new Maco church heard that the neighboring village also desired to hear “God’s talk,” they were eager and anxious to go. For almost a year, the faithful the delegation took a weekly one-hour boat trip downriver to spend two days teaching their Maco brothers just as they had been taught. And today, as the people of the village crowded together, we listened to the believers conclude with the life, death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ – God’s loving gift of salvation to the world and to the village. The people were then invited to share their thoughts and the delegation sat down.
The silence in the room became even more suffocating than the heat. The endless pause was heart-wrenching. It made me ache for the teachers.
Then, one by one, the people of village began to stand up and announce that they were accepting Christ’s payment on their behalf. All over the meeting place, they stood and proclaimed in their own words belief in the One who saves.
A small discordant group that huddled in the back of the room snickered and ridiculed several who spoke. But undeterred, more and more Macos boldly voiced their decision to rest their souls on God.
I glanced over at our friends from the village and saw tears in their eyes. It was a second generation of tears. They were now experiencing what we had experienced – the joyful privilege of listening to new brothers and sisters in Christ introducing themselves to the world. And from my tiny little bench, knees tucked under my chin, I cried happily right along with them.
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