Miracles in Mexico


During Spring Break 1975, I traveled by bus with 80 other students and professors from Evangel University and Central Bible College in Springfield, Missouri to central Mexico, where for one week we witnessed several healing miracles.   It was during that time God spoke to me that my journalism major, in conjunction with my Biblical Studies minor, would set me on a course of lifetime ministry.

Our journey took us to Sabinas Hidalgo, a tiny village located in a remote mountainous area.  Dogs ran wild in the streets and beggars swarmed us, for we were “rich Americans.”  High stone walls topped with rolled barbed wire turned homes into compounds.  One or two wealthy homes stood on the outskirts in stark contrast to the gross poverty of the village.  

These precious people had no electricity, no in-door plumbing, or running water, no doctors, thread-bare clothing and the same diet — tortillas, cacti and occasional goat.  Yet, they smiled.  What they had could not be bought.  I was shamed by their contentment.  

I also remember their little church.  It was a crude structure.  The roof was lined with rusted metal sheeting, supported by adobe brick walls.  Windows were few and mostly broken.  Candles lit the room.  Children slept on its dirt floor while being swarmed by flies.  But no one seemed to mind, as it was time for the service to begin.

The tiny building filled to capacity — leaving standing room only.  Many arrived hours early to get inside.  Others stood outside waiting patiently.  The language barrier hindered conversation, so we just smiled.  Smiles communicate in every language!

I have always believed in miracles.  They’re frequently recorded in the Bible.  To be honest though, I had never witnessed a bona fide miracle until I went south of the border.  In the afternoons we passed out gospel tracts and shared the love of Jesus in the streets and homes.  In the evening, members of our group sang and preached with the help of interpreters.  Afterwards we prayed for the sick.  These lovely people possessed much faith, and before my  eyes I saw the miraculous unfold.

On our first night, a line of several people formed to receive  prayer.  A young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, stepped forward, weeping loudly.  It was obvious that she was pregnant.  The pastor, however, informed us otherwise.  A fast-growing tumor about the size of a basketball was pushing out.  After a simple, faith-filled prayer, the group moved on to the next prayer concern.  

Another lady came with grotesque sores in her mouth.  The sleeves of her tattered dress were blood-soaked where she had wiped her mouth. Her face grimacing revealed a high pain level.  But she left that night free of sores!  God’s touch was instant!  We marveled at the Lord’s healing power.  They had no doctors or no medicine, so their only recourse was to trust the Healer.  

As we got up to leave — two hours later — joy-filled, loud laughing mixed with weeping filled the room. It was the woman who came with the tumor.  By night’s end, it was gone.  Her abdomen was flat!  God completely annihilated the large tumor.  Rejoicing and holy pandemonium broke out and we stayed another hour giving God praise.  And the only instruments in the room were our combined voices!  Other miracles were documented during the remainder of the week.  

I still contend that God hates poverty, but I’ve often wondered if our affluence sometimes hinders our faith.  Hosea 13:6 tells us what COULD happen if we take our blessings for granted.  “When I fed them, they were satisfied, they became proud, then they forgot Me.”

I hope I always remember those smiling, poverty-stricken, yet joy-filled faces in Mexico.  They were some of the sweetest, most contented people I’ve ever met.  



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