Maria Teresa, 45, wants to speak to me. As soon as I asked for volunteers at the church workshop to share their stories, her hand shot up. So we sit under one of the few trees in the exposed church yard, seeking shade while trying to avoid the mounds of baking cow manure. Surely her thick cardigan can’t be comfortable in the blazing sunshine, but she doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I went to the hospital with terrible stomach pain. The doctor said my appendix had ruptured,” says Maria Teresa, describing her traumatic experience several years ago. She was given emergency surgery, but didn’t recover well. After 22 agonizing days in the hospital, the doctors eventually sent her home, telling her husband to prepare for her death. 

It felt like the final act in a life of tragedy. Her home was filled with chaos: she and her husband both drank heavily and often had vicious physical fights. She wept as she imagined what the future would hold for her young daughters. But as she lay dying, she remembered Jesus. Her neighbours had tried to share Him with her, but she’d never been interested. Now, in desperation, she prayed, “Forgive me, Jesus. Please let me live and work for you.” A few nights later, she had vivid dreams about healing, and when she awoke, she was completely well. 

Her body restored, God now began healing her broken life. She and her husband stopped drinking and fighting, and he turned to Christ, too. Now they both work for the church, spreading the gospel in their mountain community. 

I can see the joy and purpose on her face as she clutches her Eastern Apurímac New Testament. The heat and cow manure don’t seem important anymore.