'God can use all kinds of people for His Kingdom's work'

Jorge is intimidating. This past week was my second encounter with him, but it helped me see that God can use all kinds of people for His Kingdom's work.

My five college friends and I were on our annual vacation, this time in Mazatlan, Mexico, and we were participating in the dump ministry, the same one about which I wrote last January. Since the elderly couple that normally ran the Thursday feeding was on vacation, Krishna, a young missionary, was in charge of the sandwich/water preparation and distribution. In assembly-line fashion, sandwiches were prepared, some cut in half for the children and some left whole for the adults, while filtered water was poured into plastic bottles and sealed. As we loaded the bus with our food and drink, Krishna introduced us to Jorge. I remembered him as the driver we had last Christmas break, but with the large crowd helping that day, I had paid little attention to him.

Today was different. We six girls, Krishna, Jorge, and a sour-faced couple from France were the only ones on the bus. During the four-hour excursion, our driver said little. Krishna, however, did her best to explain the various charitable ministries and to answer our questions. When we asked how the church had acquired the bus, she deferred to Jorge who explained -- in as few words as possible-- that on a previous trip the old bus died and the people on board had to push it. Someone from that day's trip went home and wrote a check to purchase this more reliable one. Several times we heard the transmission grind, but Jorge did an impressive job of gearing down while narrowly missing passing traffic on the pitted, dirt roads.

Jorge's testimony is an interesting one. He had been an alcoholic and drug addict who lived on the streets of Mazatlan. Keller, one of our traveling companions, decided he had killed someone. She knew that "by the look in his deep-set eyes." Not exactly incriminating evidence, but enough for us to not dare cross him.

Krishna explained that Jorge gave his life to Jesus at a tent revival in Mazatlan a few years ago (after he was released from the penitentiary, Keller surmised) and had spent the last few years driving the church bus, helping with worship, and working in the puppet ministry at some of the impoverished colonies. I had to wonder if he played the evil puppet because he certainly had that effect on us last Thursday morning. No smiles. Only scowls. Scary.

At the dump, the residents lined up, patiently waiting for their sandwich and bottled water. Unfortunately, Krishna had miscounted and there wasn't enough water. My friends did their best to say "no agua" as they smiled and handed the parched scavengers a sandwich. It was obvious they would rather have had the water than the meat. I was no help because as I stepped off the bus, I somehow landed in a fresh plop of donkey doo-doo. I spent my "ministry time" behind the bus, trying to find a way to clean my Nikes before re-boarding. My girlfriends later shared they couldn't help but notice how the intimidating presence of Jorge calmed the frustrated men and women and how easily things could have gotten out of control, had he not been there. Even the workers at the dump recognized Jorge was no one to mess with.

Probably because of his felonious history, Keller added.

Diana, another friend who is slightly handicapped, had remained on the bus while the girls were distributing the food and drink. She told us that when we had gotten off the bus to set up the feeding station, Jorge had shut the windows to protect the children's sandwiches so that the crowd could not reach in and grab extras. Had Diana not stayed on the bus, this small thing would have gone unnoticed.

As we exited the dump, Jorge spoke again, this time to Krishna. With few words, he made it clear he was not happy about the water situation. Reaching under his seat for six bottled waters he had stored there, he quietly handed them to the entry gate guards who approached his window. After all, they could at any time put a halt to the church work there. Jorge knew that and was prepared. By now, his "small things" were beginning to look anything but small.

There were three more stops that day, all for children who, upon hearing the bus approach, lined up in single file to get their rations. Krishna said it was Jorge's favorite ministry because he had such a heart for the little ones. We saw in him nothing warm and fuzzy, nothing that would make anyone offer him a hug (or even eye contact, for that matter). What we did see was a man who kept order, grabbing larger kids by the neck when they crowded in line, dismissing those who tried to come through the line twice, and making sure the youngest children were not overlooked. Even they recognized his presence and obeyed. A small thing? I think not.

We girls later discussed how important Jorge had been that day. A faithful soul who, because of his sour demeanor, created order out of potential chaos and made everyone feel a little safer. A faithful soul who, for years, did little to call attention to himself but made sure the minor details were taken care of. A faithful soul who helped us realize there are no small things in Kingdom work.