full of enthusiasm and went into the lecture room with my notebook and Bible. I opened up the notebook and reviewed my notes from the previous day. The priest had talked about the devil trying to sabotage God’s plan to save man, and how the Holy Trinity comes to man as a perfect three-dimensional concept — an extensive and very important topic for our concept of faith. At that precise moment I felt clearly our Lord’s presence telling me that those notes would be on the pages of the first book He would inspire me to write.
Following that inner revelation, the whole retreat experience took on new meaning; the more I immersed myself in it, the deeper the new dimension that presented itself — full of exciting new choices to enrich my spirit. Consequently, at this time I felt myself to be mentally absent from the opening day activities. Fortunately though, this transpired as two members of the group led the worship. There was much anointing and a cheerful spirit filled the air. The chill in the room — due to the lack of heating — gave more tenacity and character to the silence of the congregation. Cold weather in tropical highlands can be felt to the bones. I have always thought that cold weather favors concentration in intellectual activities that demand careful work and discipline.
God’s perfect timing often catches us by surprise. At moments when we least expect it, He touches us, making us part of His divine pedagogy. Some people were eager to know if I had thought of writing a book about my experience with the Lord. To be honest, I had not even thought about it until the Lord inspired me. This shows that we cannot anticipate God’s plans once we leave everything up to Him. Without thinking, I was already writing that book. The most difficult part was to start writing and to find a language clear enough to express everything the Lord had infused in me. It was especially difficult for me since I had not studied theology and I did not even know the catechism of the Church well. Nonetheless, difficulties no longer existed for me. I suddenly felt perfectly secure knowing that the Spirit of the Lord would guide me throughout this journey. It was clear to me that each day of this retreat would influence the first pages.
My testimony was announced for Friday of that week. This caused my relationship with the group to grow even closer. It would allow me to provide you, the reader, with a better idea of my life experience. As one more witness of conversion among the countless examples we have heard of since the dawn of Christianity over 2,000 years ago, it was my hope then, as it continues to be now, that my own life could serve to help others in their conversion.
God has a particular way of revealing Himself, every moment of each day, to all his creatures. Even though my testimony may be similar to that of others, all authentic witness lead us to one single destiny: our salvation through Our Lord Jesus Christ. It is impossible to put across a spiritual experience using mere words, or to project an immaterial and divine dimension onto a human plane. It would be like trying to feel the softness of a baby’s skin wearing a thick glove. Only the grace of the Holy Spirit will allow the reader to understand the mysteries revealed to me in spite of my limited vocabulary and theological knowledge. With the blessing of our Lord and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit — spiritual guide of this journey — I invite the reader to participate in this encounter with the Lord with a joyful and humble heart and an open mind.
My life in this world, separated from God until I was 47 years old
I was born in Anserma, a coffee-growing town full of tropical charms in the Andes Mountains of Colombia. I enjoyed a healthy life there, both physically and spiritually, until I was 14 years old. My family was large, with a Catholic tradition dating back several generations. During my childhood and early teenage years I was involved in different activities in the countryside and in my hometown, and enjoyed a happy life. The sixth of ten children, I was the first boy who managed to survive. My first two brothers died very young. Three brothers and four sisters are still alive. My grandfathers, both on my mother’s and my father’s side, were two patriarchs who owned large coffee plantations; they were respected and admired by many, and had the political and social power that provided us with support, opportunities and protection.
My life in the church was rich and constant. Since I played the first trumpet in the school band, I got to participate in all Holy Week religious processions and this was the most exiting experience during that time. My town was located on a mountaintop, with two main streets running through it. At that time, streets were made of stone; they looked like abysses with lines of houses on both sides that reached down to the mountain base. Walking in the procession, carrying the images of saints was a real odyssey. The images had to be carried by several men since they were very big and heavy; most of them had been brought from Spain during the Colonial period. When the procession passed through one of those stone streets or abysses, there was a concern that people and statues might fall down; fortunately, nothing happened, at least during the time I participated. Town prostitutes would close down their brothels for the whole week and participate in the processions. They covered the distance on their knees, weeping and crying over their sins. They would resume their regular business on Easter Monday, as if they had paid their debt and could ask for a new loan. The rest of the inhabitants did practically the same, since their spiritual lives did not change much after Holy Week, an exception being those who were already loyal to God. You see, I grew up in the Catholic religion that by then had started to show signs of decay and which in time led many of us to the spiritual abyss our Church is in today.
In the middle of these religious contradictions, my spiritual life developed with a good dose of superstition inherited from both the Spaniards and natives. I do not think my case was any different from the rest of our Latin Christian culture. Nevertheless, I grew up in an atmosphere of good relationships with relatives and a large number of friends of my age; we were very close since we were born in a small town where everybody knew each other. All this contributed to strength in my character that would became a valuable tool in my life.
Before I was 15, I moved to Bogotá, Colombia’s capital, where I lived for 5 years. I married at the age of 20, went to Hamburg, Germany, and lived there for 6 years. Then I settled in the United States where I have been since.
The years after leaving my hometown were characterized by an early rupture from my family, church and values. One or two years before leaving my town, the rumblings of a youth revolution began to reverberate from the United States and England. Elvis Presley and the Beatles started to be heard everywhere, even in distant places like Anserma.
Mass media was very limited at that time. In Colombia there was only one TV channel administered by the State and political powers. However, mass hysteria over these new idols reached all young people. Thus, my very first goal became to learn English, which I soon accomplished after moving from my uncle’s house to the house of an American community called YMCA (Young Men’s Christian Association) in Bogotá. I found out a couple of years later that they were Protestant. It was there where I figured out what these mysterious and powerful idols were singing and where I had the chance to meet many American students there on an exchange program.
In less than two years, everything had changed. Visiting students were no longer the clean and healthy youngsters who loved Christ and the Church, but longhaired boys and girls, dressed carelessly with bright colors, and exhibiting a strange attitude never seen before. Behind all this was the spirit of the 1960’s that offered total “liberation” from the so-called “establishment”. I did not understand the real meaning of all this but this weird, unconventional world that I witnessed was very attractive to my provincial spirit. Slowly, and mainly because of my first love affair with an American girl, I began to discover the secret surrounding this new attitude, this rejection of the “establishment”. My girlfriend invited me to try marijuana. Under its strange sensation and effect, she began to tell me how youth would be the salvation of the world that had been corrupted by the adults. She also told me that the Vietnam War had to end and that love and peace was the only way to accomplish this.
As she conveyed all this, I could see in her beautiful blue eyes a never dreamed of promised paradise. Everything seemed so beautiful under the effect
