The Wind is Saying, Befriend the Forgotten

I had a friend who had a heart attack that killed a third of his heart. He lived for another five years but at half speed. Maybe we in the ministry have not had a heart attack, but the ministry has killed off a big part of our hearts. 

I have been a minister for more than over 45 years, mostly in Colombia, South America. My wife and I moved to Medellín in 1994, the year after the cartel boss Pablo Escobar died. We started the church in our living room with five people: a man who arrived drunk but punctual, a lady dying of lung cancer, a timid young girl, and a business couple.

We have had an exciting life. Ex-hitmen make excellent ushers.

The husband told me in the kitchen that he had 20 lovers and that I should not expect him to be faithful to his wife. I said God would deal with him on that separately because our Bible study was about faith, not fidelity. And God did deal with him. His marriage is now solid. The drunk traded whisky for the Jesus wine. And the cancer disappeared from the lungs of our neighbor. I don’t know what happened to the girl. Now, over 8,000 people show up to worship our God on the weekends at the main church sanctuary. And we have planted about 25 churches. It has been a ride.

We have had an exciting life. Ex-hitmen make excellent ushers. Most of the miracles happen in the home church gatherings. We just handed over the lead pastorate to a young couple who are thriving in it. He was a famous soccer star. When I first met him, he asked for prayer for his knee. He did not get better, but now he is a better pastor than a soccer player. 

A Soulful Conversation

These days my wife and I focus on the church plants and the unity of the many pastors in the city. At times, I want to hide in the mountains and train a dog to bite anyone who comes near me with a Bible, so I can write without interruption. I dream about my soul knocking on the door of the cabin, and I ask him where he has been. He says, “I have been chasing you for years, but you were always galloping on the wild horse of the ministry.” We would drink coffee, look at the mountains, and talk about how the ministry has no mercy on my soul.

Recently, I wrote down a list of 12 areas of ministry I was doing, and our young pastoral team told me I needed to take off a few hats. I was about to raise the knife against some Isaacs, but suddenly a church group from the States arrived to install water filters for homes where the water is polluted with human and animal remains, bacteria, and other surprises. There are no schools or soccer fields or internet connection there. So, I hiked up the mountains with them.

Church Plants and Water Filters

We went to the ignored barrios where the police and the city water supply will not go. Geraldo, an 83-year-old resident, arrived at his home carrying an 8-gallon jug of water. He asked me what we were doing in his house. “Don Geraldo, this is the last time you have to carry water up the mountain,” I said. He tasted the filtered water—the filter is good for 20 years—and cried. 

The water filter team promised to return with thousands of filters. There was one caveat: we would agree to plant a church. Within an hour, I had about 20 people excited to help us launch it. The director of the foundation there said she had to shut down most of her operations serving 500 kids because of lack of water and funds. She told us about a 13-year-old boy who stole a banana, and the next day was beaten to death. She started to hand out food on the very spot where he died. That is how the foundation got started. She has been the director for over 20 years. She is feisty but worn down in the soul. But the improved water conditions and the new church will revive her work.

She prayed, “Father, thank you for putting a smile on our face and a burden in our hearts.” I thought what a dirty, rotten trick of God: I knew I had a new burden to see the barrio transformed. I was mad as a hatter that I had another hat.

Until then, I did not know my burned-out heart had died some time ago. Now it started pumping with joy and compassion. Having a new burden made me feel lighter. How does that work?

Regarding Henri

I am still going to cut down on administration, counseling, a TV program with a priest and a rabbi, and other churchy work. A friend of mine, Heidi Baker, is the person most saturated with the Holy Spirit I know. She cares for thousands of orphans and thousands of churches in Mozambique. A few years ago, she whispered in my ear, “Andrew, don’t forget the poor.” I thought our churches were already contributing to many foundations that work in neglected neighborhoods to reduce poverty, but I did not think I was supposed to go into them myself. I’m almost 73 and have so much to do. I tried to forget her words.

But now I am conquered by the sneaky love of God. I have the gold-rush fever for the beauty of Christ in the eyes of the forgotten people. They help me feel my poverty, and, among them, the blessings of Jesus ambush us. Henri Nouwen told us 48 years ago at Yale Divinity School that God sends His greatest blessings into poverty.

Remembering the poor may be the simple way to jump-start our half-dead hearts with the power of heaven. We can knock ourselves out working to change laws, writing out programs, wearing T-shirts declaring our all-embracing love, and counting heads at crusades, but if we don’t go, our hearts won’t glow.

A Wild Pentecostal Ride

I have enjoyed the wild ride of a Pentecostal ministry for half a century. I think it is more fun, and biblical, than ministering in a traditional church, but it is still a ride on a horse called Stress. I do not know what will happen to the barrios of Santo Domingo and Manantiales, but I smell the ocean of heaven in the streets running with sewer water. I see a deeper love in the eyes of the gang members who run the barrios. And I found what my heart was missing—adventure. The Holy Spirit blows stronger outside the church walls. Jesus said, “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So, it is with everyone born of the Spirit” (John 3:8, NIV).

We in the liberal and conservative churches are so predictable in our actions but very unpredictable in our attitudes and character. God is so predictable in His character but so unpredictable in His ways. Bob Dylan prophesied, “The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.” And the wind is blowing over us to remember the poor and stay sweet as we work together.

The Rev. Andrew McMillan ’80 M.Div. founded the Comunidad Cristiana de Fe church in Medellín, Colombia, 31 years ago with his wife, Kathy. He hopes one of these days to have more time to fish, read, and write poetry.