A Love for Souls (continued-page 2)
The Story of Saltan
by Gene Easley
Saturday night's service
was very good, with the Spirit of God present and the people responding
well. They were still babes in
Christ, so the message was kept from being over complicated.
I found it necessary to use my flashlight to read my Scriptures.
The only light was a small lantern, which kept going dim and once
completely out during the service.
We spent the night in the
pastor's home and shared the one bedroom with other members of the family.
Though we had our own bed and no other problems, we were very
uneasy sharing the bedroom with others.
But we found that once the lantern was out, it was so dark we
couldn't even see our hands in the night.
Sunday morning we walked
back up the mountainside. Our
car was still there, safe and untouched.
We drove to the river a few miles from Saltan where a baptismal
service had been scheduled. When
the baptismal candidates didn't arrive, we stayed at the river and watched
another church conduct their baptismal service.
From there it was back to Saltan.
By Sunday afternoon, the
spiritual battles had only intensified.
I knew one answer would be for me to spend that afternoon alone
with God in prayer and in the Word. I
felt a need for a special grace from God to be able to minister again that
night. I prayed the Lord would
give me a love for the people's souls.
It seems that all of our
experiences irritated the flesh. The
food was difficult to eat, from the first meal on.
The main staples in Guatemala are black beans, rice, and tortillas,
with coffee to drink. A chicken and vegetable broth soup is also a
favorite. The beans and rice I
can normally eat and enjoy, but the soup I had to endure.
On this particular trip, we were fed a lot of soup and other dishes
that I had difficulty digesting.
On one occasion we went to
a home just outside of town. The
lady of the house had planned a very generous meal for us.
She apparently lived in great poverty, but she was determined to
make a good meal for the American missionaries.
My problem was that everything that she served was totally
repugnant to my stomach. I
knew I had to eat it since I could not appear rude to her gracious
hospitality. Her dining room
was a dirty, dimly lit, dirt floor room with a small table and benches.
The bench that I had was ready to crumble and not able to hold my
weight, so I attempted to eat, half seated and half standing up.
About the time we began to
eat, what should appear but a huge, filthy pig.
The animal was completely at home and just wanted to see what was
taking place. My already small
appetite was completely gone by now. Thankfully,
the pig was shooed out of the room. But
all this further irritated me, even though I was already praying for the
love of God. Everything
happening just made the situation more difficult and the battle fiercer.
Then there was the little
room where we lodged in Saltan. The
pastor's room was about seven by ten feet with one small cot, a desk, and
a chair. Its door opened onto
the main street of town. Out
the front door, down the sidewalk, about twenty feet down the ally and
back behind the building, was the restroom and wash area.
The pastor also had a place there where he could cook over an open
fire, if he ever had anything to cook.
In the same area was a cold shower.
It was all very unpleasant and the odor worse.
The pastor never once complained about his lot.
He was there to win souls, and we thanked God for his dedication.
While we spent the night in
the pastor's home, he and the young man traveling with us, had to spend
the night on a concrete floor in a vacant room nearby.
That night, we encountered
the ants. Hundreds of ants
appeared. There was a big hole
in the floor where the ants had worked through the concrete.
They traveled from the hole in the floor to a hole in the wall.
We began trying to rid ourselves of the ants.
We tried washing them out. We
tried sweeping them out. Nothing
seemed to move the ants! We
could only hope that when the lights were out that the ants would also
retire. But, since we didn't
know much about ants, we were never sure.
So, this also added to the irritation of the flesh.
And the worst part was that the ants were on my side of the bed!
We have slept on many beds
in Guatemala that probably were worse and had not been so troubled by
them. But in Saltan, on the
bed that was about a foot shorter than I, it was difficult.
Guatemalans are by nature shorter than most Americans, and for them
the bed would have been no problem. But
this cot was designed for one person, a small person.
When my wife and I tried to sleep side by side on it, we were
forced to remain completely still or push each other off the bed.
Too, high country Saltan in the month of November was still very
chilly. Since we only had a
thin blanket for covering, we had to sleep with our clothes on to keep
warm. And we added our jackets
in the middle of the night because it was so cool.
Since most Guatemalan homes have no cooling or heating systems, one
must dress for the occasion.
One thing added to another
until we were having a hard time keeping the victory.
Finally, by Sunday afternoon I knew I must have more help from the
Lord to finish the three days with victory and to feel that the mission
had glorified God. I prayed
that God would put a love in my heart for those people.
Despite their hard hearts, the carelessness that some displayed in
their lives, their apparent sin, I knew I must be able to intercede for
their souls simply because they were lost.
As the service started in
the bamboo church that night, the place was packed.
People were standing all around the building peeking through the
spaces between the bamboo stalks. It
seemed that the place was electrified.
The presence of God was strong, and preaching was easy.
The people sat on the edges of their seats as the Word was being
preached. They were saying,
"Amen," to my preaching. Many
of the people had walked long distances to be in that special service.
Some of the people from Los Pozos had walked that hour's climb up
the side of the mountain, and then walked five more miles to the church in
Saltan. My heart was moved as
I watched the people who had paid such a price to be in God's house.
Preaching was easy; loving souls was easy.
I no longer wanted to leave that place.
God's Spirit had broken through, and the flesh was subdued and
conquered.
The next morning, as we
made our way back to Guatemala City, I was praying.
I asked the Lord why I had had such a difficult time loving souls.
As I prayed, the Spirit of God spoke to me in such clarity that the
voice almost seemed audible. I
have never forgotten His words, and they have continued to give me
strength for the journey. He
simply said, "The love that was imparted to your heart when you were
called to the mission must be imparted in your heart again in order to
fulfill the mission."
God made me to realize that
man cannot manufacture the love of God.
We cannot produce it. It
is a fruit of the Spirit. He
must impart it in our hearts. We
must seek Him until Heaven comes down and touches our souls.
