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"It was originally supposed to be yours," I said. "When you left my life, it hurt me badly. I cut the sleeves out and kept it for myself."

She made the expected excuses, and when I pressed a little more she changed the subject. In the strident defiance typical of many Spaniards, she had no words of appeasement to offer. But she later admitted she had "deserted" me, and there was symbolism, if not significance, in her accepting the tattered tank in good humor and promising to mend it.

The primary reason missionaries to Spain last an average of just two years is axiomatic. They become discouraged over the high proportion of Spaniards who seem to come to faith only to deny it under family and other pressures. There are no mass conversions in Spain—only scattered, isolated miracles of faith. Followed, often, by scattered, isolated denials of faith.

One of these miracles of faith was Mayte (the contraction of Maria Teresa). Of indeterminate Sephardi lineage, Mayte had once recounted for me a beautiful encounter with Christ. Now meeting again, we talked for two hours before she nervously confessed that she had stopped going to church and, moreover, was exploring Judaism. She had grown weary of the evangelical church of 15 to 20 people she had faithfully served for ten years. Having just moved into the mountains north of Madrid, she said, it was no longer feasible to make it to church.

She reminded me that she was 32 years old with no immediate prospects for marriage. When I asked if she had her eye on a Jewish fellow, she only laughed and shook her head no. We commiserated about the marriage thing, and as we walked through the wet winds to the bus that would take her out of Madrid, I encouraged her to explore away at Judaism and to take a season away from the church. I was confident, I added, that Christ would complete his work in her through the process.

As her bus pulled up, I marked a cross on her forehead with my forefinger and said, chidingly, "Remember—the Messiah has already come."

After the customary farewell kiss on each cheek, though, there was no hint of kidding in the goodbye hug. I held her tightly, desperately, clasping her head to my shoulder. As if she were my last hope for Madrid.

Jeff M. Sellers is an associate editor of Christianity Today.

Copyright © 2003 Christianity Today. Click for reprint information.

Christianity Today sister publication Books & Culture presents Books & Culture Corner and Book of the Week Mondays at ChristianityToday.com. Earlier editions of Books & Culture Corners and Book of the Week include:

Lessons in Nation-Building From a Fledgling Democracy | Shays's Rebellion describes a time when revolution was no longer cool. (March 24, 2003)

Whose Reality TV? | Tune in this week to Frederick Wiseman's PBS documentary, Domestic Violence, to see some real survivors. (March 17, 2003)

Oh, Brother | Most everyone agrees that the James ossuary is a significant find. Ask what it means, however … (March 17, 2003)

Vanity Fair  | A chronicler of religion plays the straight man. (March 10, 2003)

Diagnosing "The Doctor" | A new assessment of Martyn Lloyd-Jones, preacher. (March 3, 2003)

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March (Web-only) 2003, Vol. 47