Copyright © 2001 NLThomas
All Rights Reserved

CHIAPAS, MEXICO - A little over three years ago, I left Chiapas, returning from a 12-day CPT delegation. Thirteen days later, my wife called me from the car phone she only uses in emergencies to say that the public radio station was reporting on the killing of at least two dozen Mexican peasants in Chiapas, at a placed named Acteal. Forty-five were killed, 27 more wounded. All were members of the pacifist Christian group Las Abejas (The Bees). The attack began while they were in the chapel, fasting and praying for peace.

During my sojourn in Chiapas, I fell in love with Las Abejas and their profound faith . For several days after the killing, I could hardly speak. I broke down and wept several times while leading worship and preaching in the following weeks.

My church struggled to understand the profound pain I was feeling, but it was hard for them to understand why their deaths would cause the pastor of a small church in western Ohio so much pain. I eventually became numb, not allowing myself to feel anything. This contributed greatly to a rift between me and my congregation, eventually leading to my leaving.

Three years later, I am again here in Acteal with a CPT delegation. Today is February 22nd, and each month on that day, the community has a memorial mass for the 45 killed in Acteal on December 22, 1997.

At the end the worship leader passed out the 45 candles burning in front of the altar. We arrived at the grave and a time of prayer was announced. As we knelt on the concrete floor, I began to sob uncontrollably. I set my candle on the floor and went to the other end of the room as quickly as I could, leaning against a window and weeping again. A little girl looked up at me with both compassion and puzzlement. It was as if her eyes said, ³Why do you weep so? We are healing our wounded hearts here. Is it not time for your heart to heal as well?" And so it was time for my healing. Almost instantly, my bitter tears of sorrow mixed with sweet tears of release, even joy.

There is still a part of my heart that is broken, and I suppose that will never go away. Should our hearts not be broken over the suffering, oppression and death of these people, and many, many others? Yet, I hear the music coming from the church now, not music of mourning and sadness, but dance music.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for the profound example of faith and joy these people have become for me. I think I will go down and dance now.