The day started at 4:00 am. It was Easter morning! The guys were busy rolling their bedding and packing up tents while the girls carted their bags out of the thatched roof hut. It had been a wonderful few days with the Lacandon Indians. We were able to live somewhat like our new friends, staying at a campground run by a local Indian family.

We had multiple opportunities to share the Gospel, including outdoor evening film presentations and a two-day children’s program. Now it was time to make our way back to the missionaries’ home, but not before attending a sunrise service with the Lacandons.

In the dusky light we walked down a narrow path in the jungle, each team member following the one before. We finally came to a clearing still filled with morning mist. Made of simple boards and aluminum sheeting for the roof, the little church sat in the middle of the lush green grass.

We filed inside. In spite of the faint light filtering through the cracks between the wallboards, it was still dark. For light, there were two votive candles placed on a ledge behind the pulpit. It gave an almost eerie appearance to the silhouette of the preacher who spoke his unfamiliar language in animated tones. His waving arms, fluttering white garments, and unkempt hair only added to the wildness of his appearance. I was thankful to know that, as different as our lives, languages, and even clothes were, as Christians, we could still share in the excitement of the resurrection.

The service ended and everyone carried the makeshift wooden pews outside onto the grass. Then came the food. The Lacandons handed out large, flat tamales wrapped in banana leaves. I tried to identify the meat, but couldn’t relate it to anything, so when the team members next to me asked if I knew what it was, I said, “Let’s pretend it’s monkey!” That made this great adventure seem all the more adventurous, so monkey it was. I found out later that it was actually a jungle rodent called Paca, which is considered a delicacy in the Indian’s normally bland diet of black beans and Chayote squash.

It was humbling to be treated as the guests of honor by these people. We went there to serve them, and now they were sacrificing to serve us the very best they had. It was a privilege I won’t forget. Shortly before leaving, we were able to give gifts to our new friends: toothbrushes, hair barrettes, pencils, and pens.

Enough adventures for one day, right? Hardly! The day still included Mayan ruins, water falls, and the long, hot drive (minus air conditioning). Arriving back at the missionaries’ house at 3:00 AM Monday morning I thought of how many times I saw God’s hand of love day after day in the big things and little things.

No matter where we were in Mexico, I’d see the people around us and think about how much the Lord loves each of them. I wanted so much to tell each one about the Gospel. Though we were limited by the language, the Lord answered our prayer that He would use us to make a difference in the lives of the people He placed in our path. Each of us was blessed as well by the precious people of Mexico. No matter where we are, or what we’ve been called to do, I hope that each of us will remember that we have the privilege and responsibility to share God’s love.

Written by Leah Molina, one of the team leaders of the 2006 Chiapas Team. Leah will be returning to Chiapas with the 2008 team. Want to participate in Chiapas ministry yourself? Click here to take a look at the details of the upcoming trip.