A Saturday evening event in Lima
At 6 p.m. my wife and I arrive at the venue. The Director of Administration of the political magazine Caretas has issued an invitation and over 30 guests are present. All of them belong to the Peruvian upper class: they have had an excellent education, own not only one car and can holiday wherever they want to at whim. An advisor to the Secretary of State for Trade and Industry, the owner of a medical institute, business(wo)men and artists, motivated and ambitious persons, self-made (wo)men and those who have inherited a lot of wealth make up the people present.
For an hour I take this illustrious group on a tour into the hills of Peru, to a place where millions of Quechua-Indians live a totally different life. These “second class citizens” often have scarce access to the bare necessities of life: electricity, running water, schools, health facilities to name but a few. Their presence makes us feel uncomfortable and their future is uncertain.
The eyes of those sitting in the living room are glued to the screen and soak up every word. They are fully aware of the Quechua’s squalidness through the newspapers, but what they hearing, that trusting God has resulted in such a transformation of Curahuasi, blows their minds.
I end my presentation homing in on the core of my message: “Dear Friends, I have spoken about our hospital, our school and our media centre for a good hour and I am sure you have noticed that the humanitarian project was not my main focus. God and whether a hope for you and for me exists were my main focus. If Richard Dawkins is right, then the universe is huge, dark, cold and totally pointless.
But if Jesus Christ, who died on the cross, is right then his love for me is real and he gives my life a raison d’être. Each of us here tonight has to decide between these two concepts.”
Everyone nods their head. They have understood. At some point we must all make our own decision about God./KDJ