Celebrating A Different Kind Of Independence
By Gregory J. Rummo (06/24/04)
ON JUNE 28, my son and I will board a Continental flight from Newark’s Liberty Airport, final destination: Lima, Peru. From there, we’ll take an overnight, 8-hour bus ride to Huaraz, the largest town in the Callejon de Huaylas, the huge valley that separates the Cordillera Blanca from the Cordillera Negra. Like two immense backbones, these mountain ranges run north to south, comprising what are known simply as the Andes.
In Huaraz, we’ll spend a day or two to acclimatize and then we’ll embark on a week-long trek through the Cordillera Negra with 28 other Americans, three Quechua evangelists, our guides and their burros and over ten thousand copies of various portions of the Bible. We’ll walk, all day in some cases, from village to village, stopping in the squares and along the dusty roads to preach the Gospel and then distribute New Testaments to the indigenous Quechua who farm the steep slopes in that part of the world. In the evenings under a star-studded sky that rivals the best show at any planetarium, we’ll show the DVD version of “The Jesus Film” in Dolby Surround Sound on a large, portable screen. It’s all run from a small, gas-powered generator. This always draws a crowd of several hundred curious Quechua families, most of whom have never seen a movie in their lives.
This is the fourth time I have made such a trip. But it is the first time one of my sons is coming along with me. I’ve explained to him that it can be a demanding challenge, both physically and mentally. He tells me he’s ready; we’ve been running and hiking together now for ten weeks. We’ll see.
On previous treks through the Cordillera Blanca, our group hiked as much as 60 miles in five days at altitudes ranging between 10,000 and 16,000 feet. On some nights, we camped in places that were utterly desolate and inhospitable.
In 2001, we shivered around the campfire in the tundra at 12,000 feet at the base of Hualcan, a jagged, icy peak that is among the 99 in the Andes that tower over 6,000 meters. Two years prior along the Santa Cruz trail we camped at 13,000 feet at a place called Tallipampa where we were completely encircled by snow-capped mountains. As though standing inside a great cathedral, we watched as the sun slowly set in the west, bathing them in alpenglow and making us feel warm inside.
Such contrasts are reminders of a deeper, spiritual contrast.
While Latin Americans are still largely open to the Gospel, here at home, many hearts have become hardened to the things of God.
We may be the greatest country on the earth and certainly the most affluent. But I wonder where we would rate on a scale that measures spirituality in light of our many blessings.
Stand on a sidewalk anywhere in America and pass out Gospel tracts or New Testaments and there will always be a percentage of passers-by who will refuse to take one. And if you follow the flow of those people who have taken a copy, there is inevitably a trail of them littered carelessly on the ground.
In America it’s clear to me that we’ve become too busy for God.
But south of the border, there’s a hunger for the Gospel unlike anything I have ever seen. I’ve been on mission’s trips to Costa Rica, Venezuela and twice to Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. Rarely has a person ever refused a copy of the Bible.
In Peru the hunger for God’s Word seems even greater. We’ve had groups of young men playing soccer in a roadside field stop playing to listen to what we had to say and then all gladly receive a copy of the New Testament. On another occasion, as we passed a terraced hillside where a group of men were harvesting wheat, when they noticed us, they immediately dropped their tools and came running towards us when they realized we were handing out Bibles.
Two years ago, the mayor of a larger village in the Andes heard that a “group of Gringos” from the States was coming with Bibles. He ordered all his people to meet in the center of town the next morning. After role call, the townspeople lined up to receive their Bibles. We subsequently learned that those Bibles are still being used as the school’s official Spanish-Quechua textbook.
There’s no hindrance to handing out God’s word in the public schools in the Andes. We always ask permission and in every instance, with one exception, have been warmly welcomed. We’ve even been invited to preach to the student body on several occasions.
In a small school in the village of Vaqueria that we visited in 1999, a teacher wept as she thanked us for giving each of her students their first copy of a New Testament translated into the Quechua dialect by the Wycliffe Language Institute.
One of the New Testament books we often hand out is “Santiago” or “James” in English. The writer makes this statement: “Has God not chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which He promised to those who love Him?” Surely this is the reason behind the hunger for the Word of God I have witnessed again and again on my travels through the Third World.
As you celebrate Independence Day this year, perhaps enjoying a barbecue or watching the fireworks and thinking about the freedom and liberty we all enjoy here in America, think of us as we trek through the mountains on another continent, carrying with us the only true source of mankind’s spiritual freedom and liberty.
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