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Written by Jim Guffey, July 9, 2005
WHAT DO YOU THINK?
The following story took place yesterday as I returned from Guatemala City. I do not fully understand it, I am merely
reporting what I saw and documented with my camera. If you don't want to be challenged, don't read any further.
Christine, Lucy and I were awakened at 2:30 a.m. by the sound of our alarm clock\cell phone. It was time to get out and
get ready for our 3 a.m. start to Guatemala City where various people were to meet their planes at various times. Lucy was
first to go and needed to be at the airport at 6 a.m. for her 8 a.m. flight. So we got up, had some coffee (thanks Christine),
and headed for the truck which I had parked at the end of the street near the lake as our street is still closed. We arrived
in the city timely and began the process of getting people home.
After everyone was off and on their way, I began to make my way home to Panajachel to take a much-needed nap. The first
signs of a problem showed up when the traffic came to a dead stop on the main highway. It took me almost 3 hours just to
leave town due to a bus accident just outside of town which had backed up traffic for miles. As I sat in this traffic being
my normal self (complaining about being stuck when I just wanted to be at home) and rubbing my red bloodshot eyes, I had no
idea (as usual) to what God was up to.
When I finally got through the problem and onto the open road I began to contemplate which route to take home. The fastest
was also the prettiest and most enjoyable but most dangerous because of its remote location and lack of vehicles. The next
best was also a little faster than the last choice but still required a long drive through the mountain roads trying to pass
buses and trucks to make time. And with my high performance Chevrolet diesel truck (I jest) I never like to take the safest
route, the one we took this morning at 3 a.m. And so I considered the options. I must confess that I am still a little unnerved
by the robbery (not as bad as some-that's an inside joke) and gave it some careful thought and talked at length with God before
making my decision. I just felt that it was the best thing to do, to take the fastest road and trust that God was in it.
And He was.
I turned off the main highway on to the "fast" road and began making my way and noted that it was very cloudy
and dark. Even though it was still relatively early, the sooner I got off this road before dark the happier I would be.
You know, after a bunch of guys jump out of the forest and rob you, you tend to try to look behind and alongside things ahead.
Like on the Wizard of Oz when they ran into those nasty Apple trees; I figure they thought all the rest of the trees on their
journey were going to attack them too! So I drove on.
Eight days earlier I had come down the same road with the missionary family from Pennsylvania and we saw several police
officers standing on the roadside and several in cars along the way. The police here frequently gather on the roads just
to show a presence. I had hoped to see some on this trip as well but it was not to be. Oh well, no problem. So I drove
on when at once I came upon a group of women on the side of the road. As I passed I noticed they all seemed to be gathered
around someone passed out on the ground. I quickly thought about it and decided to back up to see if they needed help. They
assured me they did so I got out to find a woman passed out on the ground, unconscious and barely breathing. They insisted
on getting in the back of the truck bed (the custom here) and I helped them put her in. I asked for one person to ride up
front with me and we took off.
As I drove alone, my mind racing to decide what to do, I asked the girl who turned out to be the sister of the unconscious
woman if this ever happened before. She told me no it was the first time. She was crying and somewhat panicked as I asked
her where she wanted me to take her sister. She told me to a church in the town of Godinez. I asked her if she was sure,
that I would take them to the hospital. But she insisted I take her to the church so I told her to just direct me. As I
drove I wondered why we were going to a church with a woman who needed help. I was going to find out.
When we got to Godinez imagine my surprise when she directed me to the church we were at on Wednesday doing our last medical
clinic. The church of pastor Garcia who has now become my good friend. We pulled out and I helped carry the lady inside,
propping her on a chair. She was not conscious and was making a funny clicking noise, every time she should be breathing.
I just kept thinking this was wrong, that we should be going to the hospital. But that was not to be.
Pastor Garcia showed up, holding his Bible. As soon as I saw him I asked him should we not take her to the hospital,
knowing that he would be reasonable. He replied that if she was supposed to die that would be God's plan. I was shocked.
However, I realized that I was an outsider and needed to stand back. And so I went to get my camera from the truck, thinking,
as macabre as it may sound, I was going to record this experience.
When I returned pastor Garcia and the other four or five people present were praying out loud, the pastor touching the
woman's heart with the Bible and asking God for help. Proclaiming the power of Jesus Christ and the glory of God he continued
for maybe 30 minutes. When this began I still was incredulous, feeling that I was somehow responsible for what I was sure
was going to be the death of this woman, because I wasn't demanding that we take her to the hospital. And so I knelt down
beside her and took her left hand which was hanging motionless to try to find a pulse. I could find none (though this should
not be surprising as things were kind of crazy and I am not a medical person) so I just held her hand as the praying continued.
Every time the pastor would raise his voice proclaiming the power of Jesus I could feel this lady's hand twitch and jerk.
As I looked at her she looked so bad, still not breathing right and now clutching at her heart with her right hand. As I
looked around everyone was crying and praying and I just couldn't help thinking how wrong this all was. Again, I was feeling
responsible for this woman's death.
After the 30 minutes of prayer she actually had some consciousness and was aware of the surroundings. Several more people
had arrived at the church and they began talking with her. Her breathing was still wrong and she clutched her heart but at
least she was conscious. After a short time the pastor asked her to get up and they helped her to her feet. Together, they
began walking to the front of the church, the pastor in the lead singing a song praising God. When they reached the front
of the church the woman collapsed again and the whole process repeated itself. The pastor with his Bible proceeded to forcefully
pray and praise God, rebuking the devil. The other seven or eight people likewise prayed aloud while the woman shook on the
ground. This went on for about an hour.
I observed the people who were involved in this and the surroundings. There was the pastor, one of the Deacon's from
the church who was passing by stopped, and a younger boy who was putting musical equipment in the church. There was the woman
who was suffering on the floor, attended by her two sisters and her daughter, maybe 15 years old, and another older couple
who live in called. Again, they were all crying, tears running down their face. And I was crying. I just knew this woman
was dying and I had a truck that could make all the difference in the world. I could take her to a hospital filled with doctors
and equipment and she could be saved. But these people would have none of it. I saw on the wall behind the pulpit they had
recently put up the words "Attitude of Thankfulness, For the Divine Protection". And I saw this woman laying on
the floor and these people earnestly asking God for help. And I was asking God for help, "where two or more...",
and I was waiting. Now it didn't seem right that she could die.
All at once the lady on the floor began to speak, praying and crying, wailing and sobbing. Everyone kind of backed off
and waited, and the pastor sat down next to me. After about two hours from the time I got there she was again being helped
to her feet. She now appeared to be in some pain with her left arm and foot, and continued clutching at her heart, but she
was breathing and speaking and crying and standing. They sat her down and gave her some water which she drank. The pastor
went to her and began giving thanks. People continued to cry and the woman continued to pray aloud. Suddenly, I observed
her left foot claw up. Her daughter removed her sandal and the pastor with his Bible began praying over the foot which had
strangely curled up, almost like a claw. The pastor was praying and thumping it with the Bible, simultaneously straightening
it with his hand. The woman continued clutching at her heart.
After about three hours from our arrival they were again helping the woman to her feet. The praying continued and she
was now walking, all the while crying and praising God and Jesus Christ. Her foot seemed to be almost normal but I could
see her toes cramping upward. Then she took off her sweater and began fanning herself with both hands as though she were
hot. Again she was given water which she drank, but then dropped the glass. She fell to her knees and ceased the prayer
and crying while we all just stood watching. One of the elderly women who had arrived after this started began to speak to
her as she cried, leading her to one of the pews were she said down.
3 1/2 hours after it began it ended. I walked outside and the pastor followed me. I said to him how different it is
in Guatemala. I told him that in the United States we would rush that person to the hospital where the doctors could help.
He smiled and said to me "Here the people have no doctor, no hospital, no truck and no money. We have no option except
Jesus Christ and the grace of God. Here, we have learned to trust in God."
I walked back into the church to check on the woman who was seated at the pew talking to the other woman. She appeared
to be okay although she was complaining of a headache. I briefly talked to her and her sisters and daughter and then I left,
thinking about the events of the day.
Okay, here's what I think. I think I think too much. When I should be praying, I'm thinking. When I should be praying,
I'm doing. When I should be waiting, I'm working on a solution. Because I have been taught to be responsible, to use my
initiative and to a self-directed. I fix things, I make things, and I make things happen.
When a situation like this happens in America, I take charge. I do everything I can, all the right things, the things
I am responsible for. And afterwards, if I can't fix it by myself, I go to the Lord. How shameful. I trust in myself, the
hospital, the doctor and after all that, God.
But welcome to Guatemala. Things are different here. Now go cut the rope.
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