“God, if You send mamá
to see me this next visitor’s day, I will give my life to you.” Marcelo prayed.
He knew that a visit from mamá would
be nothing short of a miracle after the way things had gone. She had visited
regularly when he was first booked on a murder charge nearly nine years ago, but
then his cellmates introduced him to drugs. Soon he wasted away into a thin,
pathetic wreck of a man, and all of mamá’s
pleas to change had been in vain. His constantly schemed new ways to get money
or anything else he could from her to trade for drugs, and finally she told him
she was done visiting. And who could blame her? Marcelo, however, only sunk
deeper into his addictions, vainly seeking relief from the crushing load of
guilt and despair.
Then one Saturday afternoon, he heard music in the prison
courtyard, very different from the constant blare of the rock and rap radio
stations. Looking out from his cell, he saw a small group of inmates gathered
around a table with several nicely dressed young men, and a funny looking
foreigner playing the accordion. Marcelo joined the group, and enjoyed the
songs. The Bible study that followed spoke to his soul, and he resolved to
attend again in the future.
As Marcelo’s mind began to crave the truth more each day, his
body’s craving for drugs faded away. A few months later, Marcelo was convinced
that he needed to be baptized, but something seemed to hold him back. Did God
really care about him, an accused
murderer locked away in the steamy filth of a Bolivian provincial jail?
Finally, he resolved to make a deal with God, and that was
when he prayed the prayer. Well, it was more of a test actually. Did God even
want him? Would He even listen to his prayer? To make sure God would get his
message, he enlisted the help of Whaddy, one of our seniors who was baptized
himself just about a year ago, and who leads the prison Bible study group this
year (some of you may remember him as Whaddy Wycliff from one of last year’s
stories). Whaddy shared Marcelo’s request with us later that same afternoon,
and we all knelt in prayer.
“Lord, you know Marcelo’s heart.
You know just what he needs. Please let him know that you hear him and you want
him as your son. Convince him, Lord. If sending his mom to see him tomorrow will
do that, please put it in her heart…” we prayed.
The next Sabbath when Whaddy and
his group returned from the jail, he was anxious to know what had happened.
“Did your mom come to see you?” he
asked.
“No,” Marcelo replied. “But God
gave me an even greater miracle! My aunt came to see me. I had no idea she was
here! She lives in Spain. Most amazing
of all, she talked to me about God, and encouraged me to give my life to him.
Mom wouldn’t have done that. I know that God sent her as an answer to my prayer,
and I want to give my life to him. When can I be baptized?”
Over the next few weeks, I had the
privilege of helping Whaddy coordinate the baptism with the local pastor and
with prison officials. Marcelo is now a free man in Christ Jesus, and you can
see the new life and hope shining in his face. Please keep him and the jail
ministry and our other outreach projects in your prayers.
P.S. We still have no final word not the land problem. Our appeal was denied at the state level, and our legal representative is appealing at the national level. Please keep that in your prayers as well. We know it is in God's hands.
P.S. We still have no final word not the land problem. Our appeal was denied at the state level, and our legal representative is appealing at the national level. Please keep that in your prayers as well. We know it is in God's hands.
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