We
got back on our bus, and within an hour, we’d already gotten stuck on a sandy
road. The warnings about poor
infrastructure quickly proved to be true. The men got out to push while the girls were
asked to stand in the back right corner and jump over the tire when
instructed. After quite some time, the
bus emerged from the sand, and we continued on our journey. We were off to an interesting start…
We
finally arrived in the city of Villa Montes and spent the night there. In the morning, we spent hours getting our
paperwork sorted, and $135 dollars later, we were allowed legal entry. I tried to not worry about the overwhelming
expenses of the trip and focus on what God had called me to do. Little did I know, finances would be the
least of my worries while in Bolivia.
Bolivia
possesses a deep beauty; however much of the country is sadly overrun by
witchcraft and demonic practices. As
soon as our team entered the nation, we began to feel the effects. It began in Villa Montes with Nicole being
physically attacked by a demonic presence.
She felt like she was being stabbed by a knife in her chest. The attack lasted for a long time, but when
she started praying against it, it finally left.
The
following morning, our team headed to a village called Caprendita where Tanya’s
cousin Angela had lived for years.
Angela, a tiny and timid blond woman, lived alone in an indigenous
community and traveled to surrounding villages to run children’s programs and
share the gospel. Her Spanish was
impeccable, and she had learned how to speak the tribe’s mother tongue as
well. Her knowledge and dedication to
the culture was remarkable.
Angela
let us know that the tribe believed in many demonic traditions and was ruled by
fear. They believed in “land owners”--demons that ruled the rivers, the trees, the land, etc. Some of the tribe believed in Jesus as well;
however they believed the land owners were more powerful than Christ and mixed
witchcraft with Christianity. Fear ruled
the region so heavily that women even believed superstitions such as imminent
death if they visited the river while on their menstrual cycles. As soon as we arrived in Caprendita, I could
feel the darkness and oppression.
Exhausted from not sleeping enough during the journey, I took a nap as
soon as we arrived. For the first time
in my life, I encountered a demon in my dreams.
In my dream I said, “We don’t need to pray. The spiritual oppression isn’t that strong
here. We don’t need to bother.” Then I saw a white mist-like creature at the
foot of my bed that looked like a ghost.
I tried to scream but couldn’t. I
began to pray to Jesus, and I woke up.
Throughout
my entire time in Caprendita, I felt like I was literally under attack. One night, while desperately trying to get
some quite alone time, I went in my tent to listen to music. Yet moments later, I began to feel like
something was stabbing me in the chest, just as Nicole had. I immediately ran outside to find my
teammates, and they prayed for me until it left me. Many of my teammates had similar experiences,
but we refused to live in fear. We
believe that God has adopted us into His family and given us all love and
authority in Christ Jesus.
My
teammates preached at the local church to explain this very concept to the
tribe. We told them they didn’t need to fear the
so-called “land owners.” They didn’t
need to be slaves to religious practices or demonic superstitions. They were loved by God and could simply
receive as sons and daughters and walk in the authority that Jesus Christ had
given them through the Holy Spirit. Many
people said they had no idea about these truths and were excited to know they
could live in freedom.
The
day we left Caprendita, I noticed that the water in the tap shut off. I later found out from Angela that the whole
area had been in a terrible drought, and there was normally no water at her
base. However, the water tanks had
mysteriously filled up as soon as our team arrived, supplying just enough water
for our time in the village. When we
left, it dried up again. Angela said
there was no explanation for such a miracle other than a blessing from
God. Water had never appeared and
disappeared like that before.
After
our time in Caprendita, we bused to Entre Rios, a city about six hours away on
terrible windy roads through mountains and steep cliffs. From Entre Rios, we split into several groups
of five people and traveled to remote villages with local pastors to minister
for the next few days. By the time we
left, I was so physically exhausted that I headed to the next bus barely
holding back tears. I couldn’t remember
the last time I’d slept well, the last time I’d been clean, or the last time I
felt truly rested. I was completely
overwhelmed by the thought of heading to a remote village with zero fuel in my
tank and didn’t think I had enough strength in me to do it. However, I remembered how powerfully God had
come through when I was at the end of my rope in Peru and declared out loud that
the same thing would happen in this next village.
Hours
later, Stephen, Breck, Kelly, Katherine, and I were dumped on the side of a
dusty road in the middle of nowhere La Cueva with a local pastor named
Adel. With half my life strapped to my
back, I began the trek to Adel’s family house.
Partway through, we stopped to take off our shoes and walk through some
water, then continue with sandy feet and heavy packs.
We
finally arrived at Adel’s in-laws house and were greeted by Lucilla, the
sweetest woman in Bolivia. She offered
us some tea and bread, then began to prepare a chicken we’d eat later on. Stephen encouraged Katherine and I to help
Lucilla pluck the chicken, and I held back the urge to gag as I ripped feathers
out of the rubbery bird. Lucilla informed
us that she had problems with her stomach and couldn’t eat more than one meal a
day. She also had terrible headaches. Both conditions had lasted for about two
weeks. In addition, Lucilla had had a
tingling sensation in her leg for a long time that made it constantly feel
heavy and asleep. We prayed for her, and
right away, everything was healed! She
began rejoicing and crying, thanking God for healing her.
The
next day, we hiked through the village and visited several homes with
Adel. We found out that Adel worked in
Entre Rios during the week as a carpenter and spent every weekend traveling to
La Cueva, often with his wife and son, and visited houses to share the word of
God. He also organized church services
on Friday evenings and Sunday afternoons.
La Cueva still didn’t have its own church building, but the community
found alternate places to gather for the time being. We accompanied Adel on his normal travels,
amazed at his faith and dedication.
Each
home greeted us with open arms, warm hearts, and TONS of food. In three days, I ate more than I normally eat
in a week. In Bolivian village culture,
it is considered extremely rude to not finish everything that is put on your
plate, which really put my stomach to the test.
Every time we arrived at a home, the residents wanted to feed us, even
though we’d been fed by the previous home.
We prayed for several people within the village, each prayer accompanied
by a meal, snack, or drink. Secretly, I
was praying I wouldn’t throw up any of the food that had been so kindly served
me.
The
following day, we continued visiting homes but trekked further into the
village. The views as we walked were
breathtaking. We hiked through green
hills of farmland, occasionally walking next to cows, pigs, sheep, chickens,
etc. Vast fields covered the region like
a beautiful emerald blanket. After
trekking through the fields, we had to cross a river to get to the other half
of the community Adel normally visited.
We took off our shoes, rolled up our pants, and traversed the freezing
cold river to get the other side and continued to visit people.
We
spent quite a bit of time with a woman named Feliza. Her husband was an alcoholic, and her family
claimed to have seen much saw demonic activity happening at the house. Feliza’s mother-in-law was involved with
witchdoctors, and a witchdoctor had cursed the house eighteen years ago.
We
decided to pray over the entire house and pray for God’s presence to fill
Feliza’s home. We slept there overnight
and asked Feliza how she felt in the morning.
She told us that she’d dreamt of a white snake in the night. Its tail had been cut off, and he said he was
angry, because he could strike no longer.
Later
that day, we visited a few more homes and then went to a large farmhouse for a
church service. I hadn’t slept well and
didn’t know how I would function through an entire service. I started to feel nauseous from lack of
sleep, and when we got to the farmhouse, we were greeted with slabs on dead pig
piled atop corn and potatoes. The pork
was a mixture of meat, skin, huge blobs of fat, and pieces of fur mixed
in. The amount of carbs alone made me
gag as I tried to force it all down; the hog carcass did not make things
better. Stephen was a hero, choking down
so much skin that I gagged just watching him.
Breck joked about making a sacrificial move for the sake of others and face-planting
with his plate in hand. This would allow
him to lose his food while Katherine, Kelly, and I made a run for the trash during
the distraction. We laughed as we
planned the maneuver, but in the end, we sucked it up and choked down all of
our food.
After
our pig feast, we worshipped with our friends we’d made throughout the last
couple days and shared with the tiny congregation. I stood up to speak, Stephen beside me
translating. Midway through sharing, a
chicken jumped off the table and almost struck me in the face. I yelped and grabbed Stephen as both of us,
as well as the entire congregation burst into giggles. “I’m sorry,” I laughed, as I watched the
giggling faces of this farming community.
“I’m not used to having chickens at church with me!” This was a far cry from my church in
California.
After
surviving church on the farm, a woman named Gregoria pulled us aside for
prayer. We’d met her the day before, and
she said that she had a serious offense with one of the other women in the
church. She constantly felt depressed
and wanted to leave La Cueva. When your
entire community is only thirty people, one broken relationship means serious
trouble. Gregoria also complained of
pain in her stomach, and after we prayed for her, she was healed. However, we knew she needed more than physical
healing; she needed restoration in her heart.
Juliana, a lady we’d met during out first day, came and stood beside
Gregoria; and I realized she was the woman with whom Gregoria had offense. The two women confessed their wrongdoing to
us and apologized to each other, hugging, and weeping into one anothers’
arms.
Afterwards,
Juliana asked for private prayer and told us that she had lots of hurt in her
heart. She felt far from God and wasn’t
able to receive His love or her husband’s love.
We talked to her for a long time and took her through a process of
emotional healing and identity. We spoke
and prayed identity over her. Juliana
shared that she had a dream that God was forming her into a person. He put a
white dress before her, and she said, “What a beautiful dress. I want to wear it.” However, she didn’t think she was good enough. Then she heard a voice say, “I will put it on
you.” She realized the dress was for the
marriage supper with Christ (a very significant part of the Bible where Jesus
unites with his “bride” a.k.a. the church).
We told Juliana she was hearing from the Lord and didn’t need to worry
that she was far from Him or unloved.
She began to realize how powerfully God was speaking into her life and decided to receive both His love and
love from her husband. Her face lit up,
and she walked away from the farmhouse, looking and feeling lighter. Joy genuinely was radiating from her.
At
the end of the day, we walked back towards our house to pack up, go to bed, and
leave early the next morning. The
thought of waking up at the crack of dawn sounded like torture. But at just the right time, God blessed us
with a random man who stopped us on the road and said he was on his way to
Entre Rios. He offered to give us a free
ride if we could be ready in five minutes.
We excitedly and quickly packed, said our goodbyes to Adel’s beautiful
family, and jumped into the car.
The
next day in Entre Rios, we reunited with the rest of our team and swapped stories of our
time in the various villages. Each group
had amazing testimonies of God’s healing, faithfulness, and goodness. Some of us walked to the city market and bumped
into some people from the La Cueva community who had decided to come into the
city. It was odd but fun to bump into
people we recognized from the village.
The man who lived in the farmhouse where we’d had the church service
told us that the La Cueva community had been very discouraged prior to our
visit. Yet, he gladly shared that the
residents were now extremely encouraged because of our time with them.
I
remembered how burned out and exhausted I had felt before busing into La
Cueva. I’d had nothing to offer, but God
had come through. I knew that such a
quick and significant change in the community had nothing to do with anything I
or my teammates could have accomplished on our own. God had simply showed up in a moment of human
weakness and shown his incredible strength and love when I had no strength of
my own. In just a couple days, I had
seen countless people physically, spiritually, and emotionally healed. This beautiful farming community had shifted
from thoughts of despair to feelings of encouragement and hope. And as I was a part of this community’s transformation,
I went through the same change in my own heart.
I no longer felt weary and weak.
Instead, I felt rejuvenated by the love of God and full of hope, joy,
peace, and pig fat. J
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