Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

The words of the powerful Negro Spiritual echoed through my head as I stood in the small farming community of San Agustin (located just outside Ciudad Juarez), Mexico on Sunday afternoon. The poverty is as transparent as the hope needed for the residents of Cd. Juarez.

I had come over from San Diego on Friday, March 12, 2010 to support Michael and Alfredo, Amor Team Members, with the six groups that were scheduled to work this week. On Saturday, we spread out on a variety of tasks: Mike and Alfredo getting groups across the border; I was with a group building and made myself familiar with the community by driving through it while locating our other sites for the week.

Pastoral was the word that came to mind seeing all the different livestock on each lot. One had hutches of rabbits, another chickens, while the house down the road had goats, and across the street were horses. One of our sites had a baby pig who was delighted to meet us too. I imagined that trade among neighbors was a big part of life in San Agustin. The area around our camp is agricultural; in fact, our neighbor to the east has rows and rows of pecan trees to harvest.

Every street that I went down, our Amor van brought smiles and waves because not only are we building the church through building homes, we are their neighbors. Our camp is a sign to the community that we are there.

Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?

Michael pulled up to my work site on Sunday morning with a look that said everything was no longer pastoral. A shooting had occurred in the community the previous night and at least one person was dead. It is the usual story that can happen in any community surrounding a weekend party gone bad; but the first incident of any kind in San Agustin in over a year! However, this isn’t any community – it is the community where we ask our groups to build.

A phone conference with Founders, Scott and Gayla Congdon confirmed that we were going to ask our groups that had underage minors traveling without their parents to return to the U.S. Mike and I met with every group on the field. Over and over again, they expressed the same sentiment, “We feel safe; we want to stay.”  I felt the same way, but because we needed to do the right thing for their group, we asked them to reconsider. Just a few blocks down the road, another group hearing the news, paused to pray for the families and community before getting down to work. They were there.

By lunchtime, every group leader was on the same page: the youth groups were leaving first thing in the morning; the adult groups were going to stay. Our team in San Diego was on the phone with the groups in transit to Cd. Juarez and informed them of the situation. Those groups made the incredible decision to drive an extra day to work in our field location in Puerto Peñasco. They were committed; they were there.

Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?

In the early afternoon, Michael’s truck slowly rolled up to the work site and one look told me there was more news. We waited together for the call from Scott and Gayla who informed us of the tragic and intentional, targeted murder of three people associated with the U.S. consulate in Cd. Juarez. Together, we formulated the evacuation plan for the four groups working to have them in the U.S. before dark.

Every student, every adult, every parent in these groups handled it with a sense of peace that came from knowing that while they felt safe, it was the right thing to do. They all returned to camp, got their gear stowed, and with the help of the San Agustin community patrol, we escorted the caravan of sad workers away from partially finished homes. No one was frightened; no one had any real fears, but everyone was sad.

These families had waited years, some since 2008, for us to bring a group to build their home, and now we were leaving them with finished slabs, partially framed walls, and unstuccoed exteriors. One family took it very hard; feeling as if all hope was lost. Before we even left the camp, Michael was making plans on how to have those homes finished very soon. Michael, Alfredo and the pastors from our Ministry Planning Board in Cd. Juarez will have the task of visiting each of these families in the weeks that follow to ensure that hope is restored. Those families need to believe that we will be there.

Were you there when God raised him from the tomb?
Were you there when God raised him from the tomb?
Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when God raised him from the tomb?

Sunday night in my motel room, I watched CNN and Fox News along with the local and national news from Mexico available on television into the early hours. The insanity of the drug cartels, the toll of drug use, addiction and glamorization on our culture, the “war on drugs” we aren’t winning, and the catastrophic loss of life either through violence or addiction that is a plague on us weighed heavily in my thoughts.

People ask us frequently if we will leave Mexico or specifically, Cd. Juarez in light of the current troubles. The simple answer is, “No, not ever.” Amor doesn’t exist to be a short-term missions agency; we exist to serve the local church where we are called. As long as the church exists; Amor will serve there.

For me the face of Cd. Juarez is the woman who walked up holding the hand of her three-year old daughter and said, “Two years ago I was approved to receive a home, and I see you are working again in the community. The paper you put on my property blew away in the wind yesterday. Does this mean I won’t get a home now?” The paper she was referring to was an address marker for our vendors to find the home for material deliveries, but to this woman it was an 8 ½ x 11 inch sign of hope.

My heart broke as I put her on the phone with Alfredo to reassure her that we would be back to fulfill our promise and to not give up hope. In my childlike Spanish, I told her that God had promised we would be there, and we will be there.