Saturday, November 14, 2009

Gavilanes...one little Cora church


On November 11 we flew from Santiago to Gavilanes, a small, inaccessible Cora village perched up on a rugged mountain deep in the Sierra Madres in the Mexican state of Nayarit. We had been invited by Pascual the pastor of a small group of Cora believers.

Gavilanes is north of Tepic, Nayarit, Mexico. It can be reached from the end of the road by 6 hours on a donkey, or by foot...or by plane in 25 minutes.

A phone call informed us that our host was transporting bags of cement on donkey train all day long and wouldn't be back until dark on the day we arrived. So we were left to find a place to wait.

The airstrip runs through the center of town. We were let out of the plane and the pilot said he would pick us up at 9 in the morning on the 13th. We talked to someone who said that Pascual lived "over by those trees" and so we headed off in that direction. When we got to where we thought the house might be one of the few people passing us said that Pascual wasn't there. So we sat down in front of a house, in the shade and waited.

It turns out the place where we found to rest was Pascual's house. It was right across the street from the Albergue, a boardinghouse for children who had to travel to Gavilanes to go to school.

Soon a giggly little girl appeared and told us that her daddy was Pascual. Soon her grandmother came out, greeted us, and led us just one house down and showed us simple rooms that had been prepared for us. We had been waiting on Pascual's doorstep. There were two rooms swept clean, with beds where we stretched out and fell asleep.

We woke starved, I was wishing that we had packed a lunch, as our host and hostess were not to return until later. They had not expected us until the next day. But their daughters Ester (9) and Delicia (12) made us some hot tortillas and served us water....and did that simple meal taste wonderful!

It got dark early it seemed and by 6:30 P.M. the Milky Way was bright in the sky. Lina arrived, and then Pascual and we ate some more tortillas and a little eggs with tuna and talked into the night.

A lonely Cora church
Earlier that day, as we sat in the car waiting for the plane to take us to Gavilanes, Jay outlined his purpose for our visit. He said we would be going to encourage Pascual and the church and also assessing how to support Pascual's ministry without creating dependency.

In Oaxaca we work with a Mixtec church that is well supported in many ways, with fellowship, leadership, plus physical and medical support. They know that they are not alone. But here on this mountain is a man called of God, and his extended family with very few other believers for miles around.

Pascual sharing his testimony and what it is like being the only Cora believers in their village. It is quite a remarkable story. His father's testimony is also remarkable. Make no mistake, God can make Himself known to the seeking heart without a missionary if need be.

Of course everyone hears about the believers who are out by themselves, alone, persecuted by those around them. But this was the first time I witnessed the hunger for fresh springs of living water from a visiting minister. Pascual quickly called together the church of about 10 adults and we had meetings at 10 AM and then again at 6 PM.

Jay preaching on the importance of using the gifts God gives us to serve the body.

Preaching to the Cora
To reach the heart of a people the gospel needs to be presented in the language of their heart. And so Jay and Faith have been working at learning Cora, studying and having biweekly sessions with their "maestro" in Mojocuautla, the Cora village nearest their home and mission base in Cofradia de Cuyatlan. Jay and Faith lived with their family in Mojocuautla last year to try and get closer to the culture.

Jay and Faith found that the language of the Cora in Gavilanes was clearer and more precise than what they are trying to learn. However, although there are those who do not understand Spanish, almost all of the people, especially the children, speak Spanish. This is very different from the areas we serve in Oaxaca where only the men seem to speak Spanish.

Jay with his "Proclaimer" the New Testament in Cora. The battery is rechargeable by plugin, crank and solar power.



The Cora Church in Gavilanes


Lina and Pascual sing a duet.



The Cora people in this village are very different than the Mixtec we work with in Oaxaca. They are open and friendly, the little girls giggling as they walked by us. They responded with "buenos dias" as we greeted them. Eddie and I were used to suspicious looks and avoidance in regard to strangers such as ourselves and were impressed with the difference.


Pascual and Lina's children, Ester 9, Delicia 12, Eliezar 1 and Josue 4. They have two teenagers in a school in Durango.

Eddie and I have made more trips up into the mountains and eaten more indian prepared tortillas than we can count, but we have rarely had this kind of reception. The kind where you are given the best beds, and when you eat you know that the people can barely spare what they are giving you.

Breakfast, yes, that's a blue tortilla!

The most trying part of the trip was the bathroom situation. Simply, almost no one has bathrooms. When we asked Delicia where to go she looked at us blankly and gestured toward the hillside that drained downward toward the canyon. There is a boarding home for the school which serves other villages in the area and on three occasions Faith and I asked permission to use their bucket flush toilets (oh, ah, heaven!)

The bathroom area, not the shack. Actually, it didn't smell, and the pigs seemed to keep it pretty clean.

But at night we had to walk out to the hillside to the communal toilet area turn off our flashlight and squat in the dark. Gratefully most people experience convenient constipation in these situations.
We toured the Central Salud, a clinic manned by one doctor and aide which serves at least 5 Cora villages in the region.

Merchandise and supplies are brought in either by plane or donkeys.

There is always a little celebration when you return to toilets and civilization. We celebrated by going to SUBWAY!

One last word, please keep Jay and Faith and their children in your prayers as they seek how they are to fulfill their call of "church planting" among the unreached Cora people.

Fear of Flying

This blog has turned into two, just because once I started writing it got too long. Ever since I watched Julia and Julie I have been self-conscious about blogs that are all about me, but here goes.

When I arrived in Jay and Faith's village we began to discuss the trip to the Cora village, Gavilanes. I found that as Jay described the area as one that had been evangelized by Hermana Fe and her husband as early as 1964, I became more and more anxious about the impending small plane ride up into the mountains.

It so happens that Hermana Fe was widowed the first time when her pilot husband crashed, and then widowed again when her second pilot husband crashed as well. It didn't help that the mechanic that worked on our car told me of a trip he made in the same area by plane. The next time his pilot went up, he flew into the mountainside and died.

When I realized that I was becoming depressed I wrote a few letters to some praying friends who I knew would hold me up in prayer. How wonderful are those faithful women.

I was calm when we arrived at the airstrip. Then, as the pilot and Jay discussed the cost of the flight, it was determined that we could not afford to take the plane that would hold all of us (four adults) and our gear. So the pilot began asking our weights, and determined that it should be okay for us all to take the smaller plane. We left about a third of our gear in the car, loaded the rest in the back of the plane, and climbed in.


I was so grateful to be the "SeƱora". The pilot gave me the only available seat. The others had to pile in and sit on our luggage on the floor of the plane. Hmmm, I had been comforting myself with the expectation that the pilots who had crashed their planes were in old planes without the modern equipment and instruments....yeah right!



There in front of me was nothing that remotely resembled "state of the art." the radio appeared to be ripped out, replaced by an ill-fitting unit attached to headphones that were lying on the dash the whole time during the trip.

Still I was calm. And as I looked at the fuel gauges in front of my nose I saw that they were bouncing on EMPTY. Hmmm, I nonchalantly motioned to the gauges and the pilot who had been chatting loudly the whole flight, pointing out the landscape and towns, laughed and said those where the auxiliary tanks. Then he pointed to other gauges that we bouncing just below the FULL level.



And as he continued to talk, he had learned to fly in Sacramento, California, I leaned my head against the window peering down at the lush mountains, rugged canyons and winding riverbeds. I was calm the whole time with that strange kind of peace that I hope you understand. The kind that says, "hmmm, where would be a good place to land in a pinch...or crash, hmmm" and almost lulls you to sleep. That is the peace that passes understanding.



Later the others said it was bumpy, the pilot said we were fighting a headwind, but I was singing to myself...

"He is no fool, if he would chose
to give the things he cannot keep to buy
what he can never lose.
To see a treasure in one soul
that far outshines the brightest gold.
He is no fool, he is no fool"--Twila Paris

Gavilanes


The trip back was great, a quick 25 minutes...such beautiful scenery.

In January I will be flying from Seattle to Houston on a big jet, then taking a smaller jet (the kind with one seat on one side of the aisle and two on the other) the rest of the way to Oaxaca. As I get older I am finding that flying is harder the more I do it rather than easier. But I do believe it is a choice to believe and trust when the flight is out of obedience to the call.

The song I sang flying back to Santiago was...

Come and join the reapers, all the kingdom seekers
laying down their lives to find them in the end.
Come and share the harvest, help to light the darkness
for the Lord is calling Faithful men. --Twila Paris

Oh that I would be found faithful.

Thank for the prayers!