The intensely hot sun beat down upon us as we stood in line in front of a daunting wall topped by armed guards and razor wire. We asked the students to remain quiet, and awaited our turn to enter the single gate.

In front of us, and behind us were many Mexican families who were waiting to take their loved ones, food and toiletries. Supplies they would not receive if the families did not bring them. The air was rife with stale scents and the trailing words of Spanish conversations.

Our turn came, and we moved into the next area, surrendered our passports, and were physically searched. Machine gun clad guards, dressed in black uniforms were everywhere. The fear of the unknown was at the forefront of each of our thoughts as our team entered our first Mexican prison.

We were guided down a dank corridor, and delivered to an open area. Immediately, you could hear the sound of many voices. Some were calling out to us, others were offerings of praise from an upcoming tiny church building. The land for the church had been donated by the prison. The blocks used in construction had been carried in one by one, by the families of the inmates as they came to visit.

When we entered the meager building, immediately benches cleared to make a place for the gringos to sit down. Thus, is the Mexican culture. Giving up what little they possess, to better another's disposition. We were introduced, and afforded the opportunity to offer up songs of praise alongside our incarcerated hermanos en Christo (brothers in Christ). I could not hear my own voice, as they sang. They do not worship with weak voices and distracted hearts, they poured out their all to el Salvador (their Savior).

After a few songs, we were directed to an open area surrounded by high, guard flanked walls. Inmates stared at us as we entered. To say it was intimidating would understate the experience enormously.

A lone man with a wooden rake was grooming an area in the dirt. We descended upon that place as this was where we were to portray the gospel account in drama form. Behind us was an open hole in the ground where raw sewage flowed. A makeshift cover of plywood carelessly tried to cover the reeking excrement.

Before us was a wall of inmates, curiously awaiting our offering. The intro was given and the story began. Others moved toward us to see what was happening. Starving eyes were affixed upon the movements of each student, as they completed their intentional choreography.

Christ was crucified, and eyes did not waiver. He arose, and battled with Satan with flailing swords. Defeat was bestowed upon this fallen angel, and Salvation was offered to the People of the Land.

As the drama concluded, and the invitation was given, a line of men moved into our midst. Their desire was to receive this free gift. One man, clad in a time worn soccer jersey fell to his knees and wept openly. Then another beside him. This was the day of their Salvation! The stench that arose behind us would no longer cling to their hearts or lives. They were free! They and many of their brothers came to know Jesus Christ in those closing moments.

Was it dangerous? Perhaps.
Was it foolish? Their is no folly in following Christ.
American teenagers with willing hearts, had the extreme privilege of being utilized to bring Salvation to a lost and dying world. They saw somewhere in the neighborhood of 40 people a day surrender their lives to Christ! Half of these young men and women had never led a soul to the Lord prior to this opportunity. Now, every one of them has done so, several times over.

It was my privilege to witness them leaping for joy with larking hearts, as their obedience to Christ, resulted in what the Great Commission calls them to do.

Yes BJ, you were right, I was supposed to go to Mexico. The Lord resides there.

Serve God? Yes I will!

Will YOU go with me?

dad (brent)