My last day of Spring Break---Friday---I  made a mistake. I started the day reading the newspaper. Soon, I was sunk in a slough of despond:  the crashed plane, airstrikes in Yemen, airstrikes in Tikrit,  Nigeria's impending conflict, melting ice in Antarctica . . .  But one hour later I stood 20 feet from that spot, holding hands with the gardener, the roofer, and my husband. The headlines for the day changed completely.






















             It happened like this. It was our last day in California where we were visiting our sons. The doorbell rang. The gardener had come, and he brought with him a man to repair the roof of the house we were staying in. We've come to this house for three Spring Breaks now. I know the gardener, "Carlos," originally from Mexico. I know he is a pentecostal Christian. Each time we come, we talk about the Lord joyfully, stumbling between English and Spanish.  





            Today Carlos brought "Juan," a man originally from Guatemala, to come look at the roof.  Juan was wearing a t-shirt with a verse from Psalms. We began to talk.  Out under the sun, by a ficus tree full and lush, green grass under our feet, we asked about Juan's church. His face lit up. "Pentecostal," he says, eyes bright. "God is real!" he says, leaning in closer to me, with excitement and authority. "I was born again in 2008. I found the Lord. It was a miracle." 





             Now He is just back from his first trip to Mexico to share the gospel. "We went on a campaign, my first! I preached the gospel!" he says, blinking, as though he can still hardly believe it. "People came forward to know Jesus!" He shakes his head in wonder. "I preached the gospel! But----I am nothing. We are nothing. It is all Him. It is the Holy Spirit."

              The Holy Spirit is moving even now. "Yes, yes," I say, nodding vigorously. I tell him I have just returned from Chicago, preaching the gospel as well. And how the Holy Spirit moved. We stand there, bathed in wonder together that we are each doing this. That we get to speak the word of God. That God is so great He can use even us, even us . .. . 




             But all is not well. Carlos is not well. He stands with his head down. He is sad, unresponsive, his eyes lidded, his brown face a mask. We ask him what is wrong. He tells us. 


         He stopped going to church. Something has come between him and his pastor. He broke up with his girlfriend. He did wrong. He feels guilty. God is far away. 




       We shake our heads in sympathy. Juan looks at us standing there. "This did not happen by accident. God is with us---God is with us NOW!"

"Yes," I say. "Can we pray for you now, Carlos?" 





             He nods his head. I put my hand on Carlos' shoulder, hold Duncan's hand. Duncan holds Juan's hand, Juan puts his hand on Carlo's shoulder. Carlos prays, his voice beautiful and lilting, Juan repeating every phrase after him. For minutes I cannot count, they chorus the most beautiful words in Spanish that I know, these kinds of words, and many more: 

Jesus, tu eres el Senor
(Jesus, you are Lord)

Te queremos
(We love you)

te encantara esta hermano
(You love this brother.)

Ayudar su hijo.
(Help your son.)

Curese. Perdonan. Restauran.
(Heal. Forgive. Restore)


a traves de la sangre de Jesus Christo
(through the blood of Jesus Christ)

Por el honor y la gloria de Dios.
(for the honor and glory of God.)

Carlos silently weeps, his shoulders shaking under my hand. 






            When he leaves a few minutes later, he is standing straight, his face open.  

      I go back into the house. I put the newspaper away. It wasn't the news of the day. Here is the news, and here are the headlines every day of our lives:

You are not alone. 

God's people are everywhere.

God's spirit is so strong it joins gringas and roofers and Alaskans and gardeners, North and South, brown and white into a circle of prayer. 

Nothing can separate you from the love of God.
God loves you and wants you back. Always. 

God is ready to heal and restore any who are broken and lost---and He wants to use YOU.