This touching story was originally published in The Mennonite in their April 2014 issue.
“I love [US] Americans,” Pedro
announced to the small group gathered for the Wednesday evening Bible study. “I
love your music, your language, your people.”
My wife Esther and I were leading a
group of 18 students from Eastern Mennonite University (EMU), Harrisonburg,
Va., and were visiting a small Mennonite congregation on the north side of
sprawling Mexico City. They were hosting us during Holy Week for a time of
working, worshiping and playing together.
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Pedro with our student who gave him his English-Spanish Bible
Photo Credit: Brent Anders |
I was immediately put off by Pedro’s
announcement. His speech was slurred, his eyes glazed over and he wore beads
around his neck and on his wrists while stuffing his ears with white ear buds.
I had been frequently accosted by similar statements and people in my years of
learning and serving in Latin America. What was his agenda? He had to have one,
I assumed, because he was too effusive and I was pretty sure he was inebriated.
The following day the church had
planned a day for the group of us to enjoy the many activities available in
Chapultepec Park in central Mexico City. There were museums, a zoo, a castle, rowboats
and an amusement park to name a few. We were to divide up into groups and chose
our activity. At the end of the Bible study, the pastor asked for a show of
hands of those who were willing and able to accompany us for the excursion.
Pedro was the first one to raise his hand.
After a wonderfully harrowing ride
navigating Mexico City’s public transportation system with a walk, two bus
transfers and the metro, we emerged out of the bowels of the subway system into
the bright, crisp air of the park. Five students along with my wife Esther and me,
chose the zoo. So did Pedro. Probably with the same misgivings about Pedro as
I, the five students hurriedly dashed off to the entrance of the zoo disappearing
among the multitudes. Esther and I were stuck with Pedro. Three hours until we
were to reunite with the rest of the group for the next activity. Three hours
with Pedro. I dreaded every minute.
The human tendency is to
“pre”-judge someone by their outward appearance. This is where the word
“prejudice” comes from. We decide what someone is like by their race, their
age, their sex, or any of a number of other factors without bothering to get to
know them. My prejudgment of Pedro was that he was a drunk and would be a
difficult person to relate to because he “had an agenda,” and probably wanted
something from me. I didn’t want to be bothered by him. By prejudging him
before getting to know him, I denied his God-image and likeness, and by so
doing reduced him to something less than human.
I was not the only one to prejudge
Pedro. “I made a quick judgment about him as being someone I did not want to
relate to, and I did not want anything to do with him,” wrote one of my
students in her journal. “I was judging him for what I saw and the little I
knew of him.” Because of the scene at the Bible study, I’m sure many of our
students felt the same way.
God knows our tendency to judge a
person by how they look on the outside, so when Samuel was looking for a king
to replace Saul, God warned him: “Do not consider his appearance or his height,
for I have rejected him. The Lord does
not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward
appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7
NIV).
Israel had already been fooled by a
tall and handsome Saul, the man who had the stereotypical physique of a king
but the heart of a pagan. Even in spite of this disaster, Samuel began to look
for these same qualities in the sons of Jesse. He had to be straightened out by
God. What is in one’s heart is more important than the way one looks.
Paul, in acknowledging his own prejudices before he had an
encounter with the risen Christ writes in 2 Corinthians 5:16-17 (CEV), “We
are careful not to judge people by what they seem to be,” or as The Message puts it, “by what they have
or how they look.” I certainly judged Pedro by the way he seemed to be and the
way he looked, I didn’t look at his heart.
As Esther, Pedro and I proceeded through the zoo, Pedro
wanted to know the English name of every animal we came across. We became
friendlier as the day wore on, enjoying his unbounded, childlike enthusiasm for
all the animals and their English equivalents.
We decided to leave the zoo and have lunch together. As we
ate, he told us his long, torturous story. He was studying biology at the
university when he got into a bad crowd and started doing drugs. Up to that
point he was doing well enough that he had several offers to continue his
academic career in graduate studies or to work with some government agencies;
offers that would have set him financially for life.
The deeper he got into the drug scene, however, the more
distracted he became from his studies. It wasn’t long until he had to live on
the streets full time to support his habit. He dropped out of school and has
never returned. What had been a promising career was left shattered on the
rubbish heap beside a pile of syringes. He tried to earn a living selling candy
and chewing gum from a portable stand he carried through his neighborhood.
After many failed rehabilitation programs, he wandered into
an evangelical church and accepted Christ. He had been clean for over a year
when we met him. “The only thing that saved me was Christ,” he testified.
Because of his abuse of all sorts of drugs, his brain was literally fried. This
explained his somewhat slurred speech and his halting behavior—making us jump
to the conclusion that he was drunk.
The passage from 2 Corinthians 5 continues, “Anyone who
belongs to Christ is a new person. The past is forgotten, and everything is
new.” Other versions call this a “new creation.” In spite of his outward
appearance, Pedro was a new creation. He had a new heart. Before I got to know
his story, I could only see his outward appearance.
Pedro accompanied our entourage from EMU everywhere we went.
As the week wore on, he endeared himself not only to Esther and me, but also to
all the students. When we went to see the reenactment of Jesus’ trial and
crucifixion in his gang-infested neighborhood on Good Friday, Pedro led the
way. Everywhere people greeted him. Since we were with him, in spite of
sticking out like sore gringo thumbs, we felt safe and in good hands. He was
the first to give out specially prepared invitations to attend his church in
his neighborhood. His own transformed life was an even more powerful testimony
to his old friends.
“As I started to hear his story, I started to understand him
more and not have a total fear of him,” wrote the same student. “His story is a
powerful story and shows what Jesus can do in people’s lives. I wish I hadn’t
judged Pedro so quickly.” Another student gave Pedro his English-Spanish Bible.
Pedro’s face radiated his gratitude. We were slowly beginning to see his heart,
to see his God-image, to see his new creation.
When we left Mexico some three weeks after our time with this
fascinating and hospitable Mennonite church, Pedro was among the people to show
up at the airport to bid us farewell. Many of the church members brought
parting gifts. Pedro brought his candy stand and passed out candies to the
group with his huge toothless smile.
Our final church service together was Easter Sunday. During
that service we circulated around all the members of the church greeting them
with the phrase, “Christ is risen,” to which the other responded, “He is risen
indeed!” When I came to Pedro and looked him directly in his eyes, an emotion
came over me and I said to him, “Christ is risen, and I see him in your face.”
This was the same face that I had rejected just a few days earlier. Without
hesitation, he replied, “Yes, I was dead and now I am alive. I have risen from
the dead like Christ.” I could not hold back the tears as I hugged him. Pedro
was a new creation. So was I.
