Guatemala Crusades

by Gene and Jean Easley

    Pochuta

    The village of Pochuta was a mountain town in the western part of Guatemala.  It was a very difficult-to-reach village of mostly indigenous people from one of the twelve principal tribes of Guatemala.  The only access to the town was over a dirt and rock road that was barely passable for our car.  It took us an hour and a half to go the last fifteen miles from the main highway to the village.  Most dirt roads in Guatemala are bad, especially during the rainy season, and the huge rocks imbedded in this one made the jolts from hitting bottom even worse.  

    The people in that area had faced many trials because of the civil unrest.  Guerilla strongholds were sprinkled around the countryside near town.  We were not aware of the danger abreast, however, as we walked through the streets of Pochuta, sat at the tables of our host families, and visited local businesses during the days of our meeting.  

    The pastor of a small church decided to hold a three-day crusade in his town, which he said had never been done before to his knowledge.  He asked Bro. Easley to preach the crusade, and the pastor was able to secure a large theater building in the heart of town for the meetings.  He told Bro. Easley he was a little concerned about filling the building because his church membership only numbered 16 adults plus children.  So, the pastor had done much praying for the services and the attendance.  

    Much to our delight and amazement, each night of the crusade the building was filled as word spread about the American preacher and the meetings.  The conditions were primitive…the seating for about 300 consisted of hard benches, and the only lighting was a string of bulbs down the middle of the rather large auditorium.  The platform was made of sifting sand, which filled our shoes as we walked on it.  

    Nevertheless, the people continued to come until the children were ushered to the front altar area to sit on the floor making more room on the seats for adults as well as the standing area in the aisles.  The whole building was wall-to-wall with people, and we could see several young men hanging from the double door entranceway.  There were several hundred, in addition to those who were seated, standing in the aisles.  A crowd gathered, also, in the street in front of the building.  Someone estimated that there were another 200 to 300 people on the outside of the building looking in.  Many of these people had never heard the Gospel before.  

    There was good response to the preaching and singing…many answered the altar calls each night, and many were prayed for…for healing and for answering the call of God.  We were so moved by the great turnout for the meetings.  

    On the last day of the meeting, we were given a tour of the town by the pastor, and as we walked the length and breadth of it, he related to us an incident that had recently taken place there.  He said at the north end of town, "It was on this road last week where the guerillas wiped out the army garrison."  It was probably a good thing he had left the telling of that story until the final day!  

    During the last evening's service, the rains came in heavily and stayed and stayed and stayed.  We were in a high village, but we knew that the road, though it had been dry upon our arrival, would deteriorate quickly with the rains.  We also now knew that the village was a hotbed for guerilla activity and likely surrounded by combatants.  As I lay abed that night, I prayed for the rain to stop, for the sake of the road and for our safety, as we were to leave the village with only our interpreter as a guide and helper early, early the next morning.

    Before dawn, we said goodbye to our new friends and pulled out of the village of Pochuta.  We desired to reach the paved road in good time and without meeting strangers.  However, it was not to be.  The streams had washed out the road in one place, and as we attempted our crossing, the car slid and sank to the bottom of the shallow stream.  No amount of gunning the engine would release the car, which had by now high-centered.   

    Behind us, however, was gathering a line of buses, pickups, and cars--also all wanting to hurry to the highway.  With our car stuck there, there was probably no choice but for them to give us a hand!  A courageous bus driver took the wheel and, after the men had placed rocks under the tires and attached us to the chain of a big pickup, they drove our wagon out of the riverbed and up the other side!  Praise God!  Without further delay, we made tracks for the highway and home.  Never did we see the camouflage uniforms or banditos, but we were so grateful to those early morning rescuers from the ravages of Mother Nature.  We were also rejoicing over the many, many people of that little village who heard the Gospel for the first time!  

   El Porvenir

    Early in our missionary career, we preached in a farming village in a southeast department (state) of Guatemala in the town of El Porvenir.  We shall not soon forget the beautiful strains of Gospel choruses from the little squeezebox accordions as they came down from the church wall for the worship services.  The people seemed to literally come out of the woods, as the small white church was so remotely placed on the back road among the high trees.  

    One service there and its results are so memorable to us.  Bro. Easley preached that night on the White Throne Judgment.  He emphasized the question, "Is your name written in the Lamb's book of life?"  He stated the question again and again, saying to the people that it was imperative that they know whether their names were written there.  He said, "You must know it, without a doubt, that your name is written in the Lamb's book of life!"     

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