Dad and Mom López

In November, my father-in-law, Gregorio López, passed away. He is now with his Lord, whom he loved and served faithfully for about 60 years.

Dad López was a Ch'ol Indian who was saved at the age of 16, and whom God used to help translate the Holy Bible in the Ch'ol dialect. His story is an amazing one, which speaks of the grace of God.

In a future post, I will share with you Dad López's testimony and the blessing that he was to many, including his American daughter-in-law.

Tomorrow, my husband and I and our children are going to visit Mom López in the village where she lives. It is always a blessing to spend time with this sweet Christian lady who was such a faithful helpmeet to Dad López.

In the 8 years I have been married, every single time we have gone to the small Indian village where Mom López lives, we have always had exciting experiences. I ask that you please pray for our safety, both in our travels as well as in our stay there. My prayer is that I would be a blessing and an encouragement to my dear mother-in-law, as she always is to me.

Our family with Dad and Mom López in January, 2009

What Manner of Child Shall This Be!

This month, I was able to be a part of two Daily Vacation Bible Schools: One held in our church, and another held in a small town in Veracruz, where my sister and her husband labor faithfully.

In our church, there were a total of 178 enrolled, with a high attendance of 149. These numbers represent children who heard a clear presentation of the Gospel!

Game Time at our Church VBS

Our little Deborah Jolene

When working with children, I am amazed at how tender their hearts are. Jesus said, “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven.” As my brother-in-law said this week, “Children love Jesus. Their hearts are tender and soft and when you tell them about Jesus, they readily accept and believe the Gospel message.”

Mom playing her accordion and leading the children in the songs

In our church, Mom taught all the lessons. I watched with amazement as she taught with the same youthful energy that she did 25 years ago when she taught her first VBS. I sat and listened as she taught The Soldier of God with the same lesson book, the same memory verses, the same songs, taught in the exact same way as she did when I was only 7 years old!!! This year, my children sat under her teaching (what a huge BLESSING that was to me!) and children came to the VBS whose parents she taught 25 years ago. That is one of the rewards of staying in the same place and working faithfully for so many years!

Children at the VBS in Veracruz

Little Andrew listening to the Bible story


Last week in Veracruz, I watched children who had never heard the Gospel, for the first time hear that Jesus loves them and that He died for them. I was able to talk to 5 of them and give them the plan of salvation and hear them pray and ask Jesus to save them.


Me with Perla and Jose Manuel, who were saved last week in Veracruz...

...and with Adriana and Napatali, who were also saved in Veracruz

Deborah and Denise listening intently to the story of the Good Samaritan



How refreshing it is to work with children! My heart has been blessed. Please pray with me for the following children who were saved:

Brandon
Karla
Oscar
Monse
Joel Angel
Jovani
Itari
Perla
José Manuel
Italia
Araceli
Naptali

Karla (in the red)

Itari (in the brown)


--What Manner of Child Shall This Be!--


“Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not.
For of such is the kingdom of Heaven.”

How Shall They Hear?

Tzotzil Indian Woman


For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost. Luke 19:10


When my father felt the call of God to come to Mexico, he felt burdened for the Indian people. He got out a map of Mexico to find where the largest concentration of Indians lived. He discovered that Chiapas was the state with most Indians, and furthermore that the town of San Cristóbal was a market town where the Indians brought their goods to be sold. So in February, 1972, he moved his family to the little town which is now home to me.

Dad began a Children’s Home/Bible Institute in a small village called Ixtapa, and lived there from 1973 to 1979; then he moved his family back to San Cristóbal, where he lived and worked until the Lord called him Home to Heaven in December, 2004.

We have lived and worked among Indians all my life. There are three basic tribes of Indians with whom Dad worked: the Tzeltal Indians; the Tzotzil Indians, and the Ch’ol Indians. Each of these tribes speaks a different dialect. The Indians who lived in Ixtapa were the Tzotzil Indians; and many good works have been started as a result of young men who were saved and trained in that ministry.

In our church in San Cristóbal, we have a mixture of the Tzeltal, Tzotzil and Ch'ol Indians. When the Indians move out of their villages, they usually learn Spanish. Most of my friends are Indians.

Tzeltal Indian Woman from Chilón

I was very small when we moved away from Ixtapa to San Cristóbal. The Indians who move to the city eventually change their customs and way of life. So when I got married and moved to the village of San Antonio with my dear husband, I began to learn Indian customs and ideas and ways of life that I had seen before, but I had never really understood. In a way, their lifestyle is harder than in the city because of lack of commodities; but I grew to love their laid-back village life. My favorite time of the day was around 5:00 in the evening; one can see mothers and daughters (and granddaughters) sitting out in the cool of the evening, snapping green beans; or cross-stitching beautiful, colorful flowers on their tribal blouses. (How much of that do we see anymore today?) While technology is helpful and makes our life more comfortable, I believe it robs us of valuable family time. I became more aware of this fact living back in the village, where many people lived without electricity.

For many of the people in San Antonio, I was the first white woman they had ever seen. It was strange for them to be around me, and they were very curious as to how I did things. Many times, the children would come up to me and rub my arm and they loved to touch my hair. I would be in our little room where we lived when we moved there, and suddenly, I’d turn around, and there would be 4 or 5 little children crowded in our doorway, just watching me. One day, I told a group of little girls, “Before you come in, you must knock. That is the right thing to do.” They smiled shyly and backed out of my door. A few seconds later, they knocked and came right on in! I said, “No, when you knock, you must wait for me to tell you to come in.” Either they didn’t understand me, or they just thought it was a silly idea, because they never knocked before coming in our door. I had to keep our door locked if I needed privacy. I always had to check that our window was locked before dressing because there were always little eyes peeking into our windows. Little Indian girls playing in San Antonio

Little by little, they began to feel more confident around me. I began learning phrases in Tzeltal, and they would giggle when I would speak to them in their dialect. I grew very close to these dear people, and over the years that we lived there, we went through many struggles and tragedies with many of the families in these villages.

My dear friend, Pancha, and her son
who have lived such hard lives

If you could come to these mountains in Chiapas, you could travel back to some of these villages and see people who live with no running water and no electricity, and who have never even seen a Bible. (You may feel as if you were going back 100 years in time.) Many of these villages are run by the infamous Zapatista leaders (about which I will write in future posts), creating danger for a preacher who might visit these villages. However, the emptiness in their soul cries desperately for someone to bring the message of God’s love to them.

The Indians of Chiapas need people who will pray for them. Will you take time out of your busy schedule today to bow your head and pray that the Gospel will reach even the most remote village in these mountains?

Welcome To My Blog!

Two days after our wedding, on March 25, 2002, for the first time, I went to the village where my husband had already been working for one year, and where we would make our first home. The village is called San Antonio Las Palomas. I will never forget that day. We rode on a transportation truck to a place on the road that cut off to a winding gravel road. Then we walked for about thirty minutes. The sun was very hot that day and the path led us up-hill. But it didn’t seem like a hard, long, hot walk to me, walking next to my beloved husband.

As we rounded a curve in the road, my husband pointed to a mountain in the distance, and he said, “Just behind that mountain is a village where I go to take medicine to people and to treat them. One day I’ll take you back there so you can meet the people who live back there.”

That day, when we got to San Antonio, I met several families with whom I would make friends for a lifetime; families whom had already been a blessing to my husband during the time he had lived there and who had also come to love my husband.

After a few weeks, the day came when I accompanied my husband to that place, behind that mountain. And I met the people who lived there. My heart was touched and will never be the same. My husband was the one who tended to their physical needs; but as time passed, he came to be, for many of them, their spiritual guide. Many times they came to our home, not for physical consults, but for spiritual counseling.

If God will allow me to do so, I would like to take you on a journey in your mind and heart, through stories and photos, so you will also meet these people that live just behind the mountain. My prayer is that God would lay a burden on your heart for these dear people who live in these hidden villages...Just Behind That Mountain. Andrew and me with our son Andrew and one of the first families I met that first day I went. These are the Tzeltal Indians from the Chilón area

Just behind that mountain
There's a soul who needs the Lord
And just behind that mountain
Souls have never heard God's Word
Pray the Lord of harvest
To send people who will go
And take the Gospel just beyond that mountain
So just one more soul will know.

--Written by Mrs. Anna López--