POST by JED: Evangelising El Salvador – Part 2

Rene & Yader waiting at the Coach Terminal in El Salvador

It was a BUMMER HEIGHTS HIGH, the day we left Anna & Jazz behind. I found it difficult to keep up my chirpy, CAN DO attitude, but I had to. Our success in El Salvador depended on it. God couldn’t possibly use a bunch of sad, whinging, mopers. I needed to lead the parade, not jump on the sad-wagon! 

I initiated tickle torture, joking, laughing out loud BROADWAY style – with mouth WIDE OPEN, etc. I danced, sung, played charades, anything to keep the mood light and expectant. I tell you, our bus ride from the border of El Salvador, to the city of San Salvador, was akin to a Spanish version of John Candy’s coach trip in Planes, Trains & Automobiles, when he leads his fellow travelers in singing the Flinstones theme song.

The sun was just setting when we arrived in San Salvador. We’d spent 15 hours on a double decker bus, and it was with great difficulty that we pried our behinds out of our seats. Sezni’s legs refused to function, and so I carried him on my shoulders, nearly passing out on account of his woofiness, and nearly decapitating the poor lad upon our disembarkation.

Waiting in King Quality (San Salvador)

Our host, Pastor Mario, was not surprisingly nowhere to be seen. We’d e-mailed back and forth, and I’d let him know of our arrival time, but things tend to run a bit loosey-goosey in Central America, and so I’d already assumed he’d most likely be fervently waiting by his phone for our call.

Jed, in his own little Magazine ShOot World!

I looked around. The bus terminal was a bit mish-mash. The perimeter barrier was tall, with barbed wire atop. The departures/arrivals lounge was a tiled room with 3 walls, opening out to the fumes of the busses. No a/c here, but to our delight, the convenience of clean bathrooms and a broken down snack machine. The check-in counter was home to make-up clad beauties, who could have easily been relaxing in some glam magazine shoot.

I asked Fran and Rene to use their phones to call the pastor. No funciones… I approached one of the check-in staff with a handful of American & Nicaraguan coins. She must have been struggling violently to hold her eyes open, on account of the heaped mascara she’d troweled across her lashes. I wanted to offer her a baby wipe, but alas for us babies are well and truly a thing of the past…

I explained our situation to the Princess at King Quality and she was only too happy to help. I dialed Pastor Mario’s number and talked for a moment, just so he’d know it was me. I then handed the phone to Fran who spoke for a time, just so he’d know what we wanted. The phone then went back to the King Quality lass for a second’s chat, just so he’d know where to come.

The Nicavangelist Team, on their FIRST EVER international tour... (El Salvador)

I’d be lying if I said it was an easy wait. We were pretty pooped by this stage, desperately needing to nap. An hour or two passed, and one of Pastor Mario’s pastors, whose name was also Pastor Mario, arrived with a broad grin upon his face, ready to take us “home.”

The boys threw our baggage in the back of the ute (pick-up truck), and by “threw” I mean dragged upwards and plonked. My 4 kids and our 8 boys climbed onto the tray and I was graciously offered a seat in the cabin – which I took. The ride home was pleasant. It was fun and windy through the streets of San Salvador and then as we climbed into the hills I drowsily watched the flickering lights of the city below.

I thrive meeting new people, but could barely hold a conversation due to my groggy state. I elected to ask open-ended-questions so as to keep the conversation flowing, but with minimal effort on my part. I do remember asking my last question, but was rather embarrassed when Pastor Mario’s hand woke me from my slumber. We were in Apopa, in front of our Church. I sprang into action…

Hugs, kisses, love, laughter. I was delighted to be amongst my new comrades. Less delighted when Fran came and tried to break up my little party, pointing out that I was with the people from the wrong Church. Ba-hA! Strike 2! I needed a bed fast… It turned out that the local Pentecostal Church also shared the same eating space as the local Baptist Church. But, as we’re all brothers and sisters in God, no probs, aye?

I managed to greet almost 50 people; babies, toddlers, children, youth, adults and the elderly. Everyone was there and so excited about the missionaries from Australia and Nicaragua. Our boys were visibly taken back, they were being treated like celebrities, but were unable to remember the events that propelled them to this position of fame. I smiled and winked at them, as they suffocated in the embraces of men, women and children. Lorenzy, as always, was a gigantic HIT, instantly being mobbed by young girls who hugged her, touched her hair, and jabbered away in Salvadorian Spanish.

Our El Salvadorian Baptist Church

Inside the double storied Church building, we were asked to sit at a long table. We were served grandiose amounts of pupusas, which are a traditional Salvadoran dish made of a thick, handmade corn tortilla (made using masa de maíz, a maize flour dough used in Latin American cuisine) and filled with queso (cheese) and frijoles refritos (refried beans).

Dinner time in our Apopa Church (El Salvador)

Pastor Mario jumped behind the keyboard and started singing Hillsong United songs, and I joined him before too long and sung a few of my own favourites. Wild applause filled the auditorium, as not too many of the locals had actually gone home. They were watching fascinatedly as we performed every action in preparation for bed. “Oh, he brushes his teeth!” and “Good gracious! They’re walking barefoot on the Church floor!” It suddenly felt eerily like we were on an episode of Big Brother, but our viewers weren’t behind telly sets, they were sitting right in front of us.

I changed in the pastor’s bathroom, and then organised my children and our youths to sleep on the floor. We each had a pillow and a sheet. I had the boys sleep up one end of the auditorium, and I had my 4 kids sleep around me. Before leaving the Pastor warned, “No one is to leave the building at any time.”

We eventually fell asleep at some time before midnight, with people still there watching us.

Morning arrived prematurely and I jumped out of bed. There was so much to be done and such little time. Pastor Mario was already in the building, ready to get the show on the road. We chatted a bit, and he shared that the Church didn’t have sufficient funds to feed us.

In no time at all we were at the supermarket, buying supplies for our stay. We bought rice and beans, juice, eggs, and other bits and pieces to make healthy, cheap meals, which a lovely lady from the Church would prepare for us.

One of the LOVELY ladies who cooked for us, & Renz

We spent several hours practicing our street theatre production, Created, in preparation for our evangelism outreach and performances at the Church. We have never practiced in a different location, and so there was a lot of “Which way is front?” Mr. G nearly died that day… The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that Latinos can ALWAYS pull it off when it comes down to the wire.

Practicing "Created"

We were escorted around the corner to a bakery. Now from what I could tell of El Salvador, in general they are a little bit better-off than Nicaraguans, but not by much. Of course, all of my analysis is skewed because I have only visited one barrio in San Salvador, but I have UN statistics to back me up. At this point in my stay, the things I had noticed to be superior were the construction of the roads (I hadn’t driven on one dirt road since arriving in El Salvador, and the “poor” area where we were staying had wide, paved streets), the construction of the houses (no tinned roofs, instead clay tiles. No dirt floors, but tiled/concreted floors), and the brighter faces of the people – clearly having much more hope in their hearts, and probably a better diet too.

We showered one-by-one under the cool, hose-like tap. The boys were getting nervous and I loved watching this, the unraveling of tough guys.

I was interrupted half way through the cleansing process by one of the Church’s pastors. This chap was nervous about the seating arrangement I had requested. The Church had a stage too small for our performance, and in front of the stage was a large space with a step halfway through – far too dangerous for our troupe. I hence suggested (not taking “no” for an answer) that we use the space in front of the entrance for performing, and use the stage, the area in front of the stage, and the space around our performance area, for seating.

One thing I have learnt about Central Americans is that they struggle with being flexible. They are laid back, but not flexible – if that makes sense… Sort of the opposite to Americans, who I find to be flexible, but not laid back, and completely different to Aussies who are both flexible and laid back (which is why I am ALWAYS in trouble), or Brits who are neither flexible, nor laid back – but who have the best sense of humour (hopefully finding this paragraph hilarious – complaints can be send to Elizabeth.Brien@gmail.com).

At this point if I am to be honest, I have to say my thought on this matter was that the pastor merely wanted the performance to be like a normal Church service, without too much disruption. His argument was that the Church was expecting upwards of 200 people for the Saturday night service, and using a third of the space for performance would inhibit maximum seating.

I argued that in utilising the raised stage and elevated area in front of the stage for seating, we’d easily recover the lost space where people usually sat (but which we now wanted to use for performance). In addition, people would better see the production, and the Church would feel more like in a theater. But oh dear, I could see it on his face – unsaved people, SITTING ON THE STAGE!!!

I grabbed his hand, like a father grabbing the hand of his son. “Vamos!” I said.

I dragged my kids along too, because on this trip, their safety was of utmost importance to me – I was the only one who would truly care for them. My kids were never left unattended or out of sight, not even for a second – the sexual exploitation of children, in Latin America, occurs at a staggering rate. I honestly believe, now that I have lived amongst the Nicaraguan people, that there are little or no children who don’t have a keen understanding of sexual matters, even if it is only observing their parents having sex at night.

“Dad, I’ve only made-up one eye!” Francesca argued. It was true, but without a significant interception, this pastor would just rearrange the seating as he pleased. We walked along, shaking hands with the local Salvadorians, trying to keep pace, but taking time to look into eyes and smile genuinely, with love.

The seating was beautiful, I was impressed. “But the microphones won’t reach the stage” protested the pastor. “Then we’ll sing from behind the people!” came my response. It didn’t take long for the pastor to realise that this seating plan would work and that his prior concerns were now null and void.

I hurried back to my troupe. They were nearing readiness. We finished up, cleaned up, locked up and some of them began to choke up. They were nervous, it was delicious!

We strolled back to the Church. I had my people wait upstairs, in a children’s Sunday school room. The Church was filling up and the roar of conversation was now deafening. Jonny got into quite the strop, as did several of the others. They were objecting to parts of their new costumes. Stubbornness set in – I asked everybody to stand up and had them pray together – Pentecostal Nicaraguans, are almost as fervent pray-ers as Koreans. I love seeing how far these boys’ prayer lives have come. When they first arrived with us, if we were in a hospital praying for the sick, these lads would no doubt thank the Lord for my family, for the beautiful day we were experiencing and for the food we were about to eat – even though they had their hands laid on a patient suffering with cancer, in a room without windows and not a wiff of food in smelling distance.

We asked God almighty to come and fill us and the Church. Prepare the hearts Lord! Make hearts be open. Help us to remember our choreography and blind the eyes (especially with several of the boys’ bachata moves) when needed, also making the hearing to be deaf (when I was to sing “Chains” – Tina Arena).

I climbed down the stairs to check out the mood, and I became OTT excited. Standing room only, and eyes full of excitement. The pastor asked us to begin. I had our troupe line the stairs of the building. The Nicavangelists were introduced. Jonny, Beycker, Sezni & Rafael walked quietly in and took position, just as we had planned.

The audience first sat in silent awe, and then out of nowhere came the thunderous applause, causing Beycker & Rafael not to hear the music. With a little confusion they started to dance – the King (Beycker) & the Prince (Rafael). 

Performing the Palo de Mayo, a part of CREATED, in El Salvador

Moments later, the rest of the troupe arrived and performed the Palo de Mayo. I had concern over this part of the production, because for many Christians in Latin America, dancing is considered to be sinful. In addition to the dancing factor, the Palo de Mayo contains strong themes of sexuality – hence the Palo.

However, it is difficult to represent sin, without really shocking people or showing it. We believe the Palo de Mayo, coupled with acting out the 7 deadly sins, appropriately conveys our fleshly humanity. It didn’t matter, because the Salvadorians thought it was all wonderful – which really encouraged our troupe on.

In fact, Sezni was so encouraged by the audience’s enthusiasm that he departed from the routine we’d rehearsed no less than a thousand times. He walked across the stage on his hands (instead of aggressively twirling his kung-foo stick and attacking his victims - he’s a demon in our play and can apparently hand-stand his prey to death). He grabbed the victorious Rafael (the Prince, representing Jesus) by the throat at a moment when Rafael needed to be seen as the victor, and almost strangled him to death. He stopped mid-breakdance number to stare at the large woman, front row, who laughed raucously whenever Sezni did anything.

But besides Sezni’s whoopsy-daisies, the performance was a grandiose success. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house when Rafael (the Prince, Jesus…) died. And then the hooting, hollering and howling, when he rose from death – it was deafening. Once the production was complete, we sung Te Doy Gloria (I give you glory), which is the number one praise song in Latin America.

The dancing hands, the grandiose singing, the eyes full of conviction and love. The Latin American Church, sweeping along the debris of shattered lives, into the Kingdom! How awesome to be a part of something so beautiful. Lives being changed forever…

Created, in El Salvador

 The cost of our evangelistic outreach tour to El Salvador was $2,000. If you would like to contribute to our outreach costs, and hence help us to secure our next evangelism tour, please visit our support page and make a contribution (CLICK here) – you will be investing directly into the Christian crusade for saving souls…