Pastor José Padilla sat on a rock one hot, dusty August afternoon, praying for hours for his community in the rugged Mexican desert. Already, on the few dirt streets in Kilometro 29, a squatter village of seven cardboard shanties on the outskirts of Ciudad Juarez, there were too many niños de la calle—street children living with drugs, alcohol, and abuse in place of loving parents and food. His heart heavy, Padilla asked God what could be done.

God showed him.

With rugged mountains towering to his left and a seemingly endless desert to his right, Padilla gazed at the scene in front of him and received a vision.

"The vision was that God was interested in helping the children of a destroyed place," said Padilla, who 13 years ago saw images before him of pale yellow school buildings, a wedge-shaped church with lofted ceilings, and children praising God. He whispered the words Dios es maravilloso—"God is marvelous"—and asked God how these images would come to be. "This is when God told me I was going to make a school."

A former street child himself, Padilla had no money, no training, and practically no education. But after fasting and praying for 15 days, he put into motion the one thing he did have—faith. Out of his vision came Gabriela Mistral.

Gabriela Mistral opened its doors in September 1992, meeting in a pallet-and-cardboard shack the size of a small garage with two of the pastor's daughters as teachers. Excited, they prepared tables and papers for 50 people on the first day of registration. Only four came.

"People said, 'You guys are crazy. This is not a school, just a cardboard house,' " said Padilla. Some thought a Christian school would just teach songs, while others accused them before the government of being frauds. Classes began with just 2 children in kindergarten and 2 in first grade, but attendance grew to 45 after the students learned to read by December.

Every year brought new challenges. Witchcraft in the community, which affected the students' worldview. Government demands for teacher training and safe building conditions. High teacher turnover because the school was tuition-free and teachers didn't receive a salary. "Often our family didn't have food to eat," said Padilla, "but God never left us. We had hunger, but we never lacked the presence of God in our house."

A Different Way to Preach

Two significant events transformed Gabriela Mistral. First, the constitution of Mexico underwent a significant revision in 1993, allowing religious organizations to sponsor private schools. Previously, churches could only operate schools as civic associations, with restrictions on religious expression—an outgrowth of Mexico's secular 1910 Revolution and historic anticlericalism. Padilla applied for a permit, and, in October 1994, Gabriela Mistral became one of the first Christian schools sanctioned by the Mexican government.

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Then church groups began to come. Assemblies of God teams from Oklahoma, Indiana, and Illinois built classrooms. A Missouri church constructed a two-story dining hall, and Baptists from El Paso erected a sanctuary the size of a small stadium. Churches from Colorado, Washington, the Carolinas, and Canada all came and left their mark, blessing the school with a facility unparalleled in the community of 2,500 factory workers and day laborers.

Gabriela Mistral swelled to almost 500 elementary school students before a shortage of teachers limited enrollment to 200. The school now registers each incoming class in about three hours, turning away more than 100 students. Teachers at Gabriela Mistral must meet government requirements, and students take the same standardized tests as public school students, whom they frequently outperform.

Most religious schools in Mexico charge $50 to $500 per month. Likewise, public school students face registration, uniform, supply, and maintenance costs that strain family budgets. But Gabriela Mistral charges nothing. Area families, which earn an average salary of $40 a week at maquiladoras—factories near the Mexico-U.S. border that make products for the United States—can now receive a free education.

The school relies on contributions from American churches, organizations, and individuals to meet its monthly operating costs. Its non-salaried teachers live from donation to donation. "My heart is here, for the children here and what they need," said Oralia Lechuga, 32, one of the first teachers. "Though I don't get paid economically, I get paid with spiritual fruit of God. I believe that God will pay me later."

Padilla's church uses the school not only to educate, but also to evangelize the community. "This is the way God has shown us to work for him so people will be evangelized," said Lechuga. "The Word of God is going to be preached in the world in different ways, and this school is the way God wants us to preach it here."

More than 60 percent of Padilla's students come from non-Christian households, sent to Gabriela Mistral because the school enjoys a reputation for respecting and caring for students. Two-thirds become Christians before graduation. In addition, more than 60 families have come to faith in the past eight years, a significant number when most area churches have 10 families or fewer amidst the area's cultural Catholicism.

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"It's a miracle of God how he changed my life," said community member Erica Torres, 30, "and everything began there at the school." Torres had cried every day for two years after her father was killed by a drunk driver. Trying to escape her sadness and pain, she relocated to Kilometro 29, enrolling her daughter Keirim in Padilla's free school. Every day, Torres asked her first-grade daughter what she had learned in school. Every day, Keirim told her about God.

"God prepared the way through Keirim and the school for God to enter our house," said Torres. First Keirim came to faith, then Torres, then her sister Zicri, then her husband, Cesar, an alcoholic, and finally his parents. One year later, Torres became a teacher at the school.

"The children are an opportunity for God to enter these families," said Torres. "For Mexicans, children mean a lot. Parents can reject other people telling them about God, but they cannot reject their own kids. The kids are like little soldiers."

Fulfilling the Vision

Teachers at Gabriela Mistral report that students often prefer Bible study over math or history. Many ask if they can fast and pray for their parents and families. "We are planting seeds in the children," said Elizabeth Del Toro, 40, principal of Libertador, another Christian school in Juarez. "They're learning Bible stories, learning to pray for their problems, and they are bringing those things home." She tells the story of a fourth-grade student who wanted to be a drug dealer, but said to his teacher at the end of the year, "I want to be a man who will do good for Mexico. I don't want to be a drug dealer anymore."

Outside observers attest to the evangelistic success of these Christian schools. "People respond when the church is involved not only spiritually in a community, but also in other aspects," said Ken Dahlager, director of Latin America ChildCare, an Assemblies of God ministry that supports schools like Gabriela Mistral throughout Latin America.

"The vision that God gave them has completely changed that community," said Dahlager. "When a church comes into a community and starts a school, the moral level, the safety level, the economic level all lift as people become believers. I've seen this happen in many communities in Mexico, and it is definitely happening in Kilometro 29."

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Partnerships between evangelical churches in the United States and Mexico allow Gabriela Mistral's model of ministry to flourish. Four Juarez pastors started schools when Padilla did, and more have come to him over the years asking for advice. Juarez currently has 16 Christian schools, with 4 more in the process of opening.

Still, the staff at Gabriela Mistral believe God is not finished doing miracles at their school, because Padilla's vision is not yet fulfilled. The vision included a junior high and high school, and a second story on one of the buildings. Also, the school could handle 300 more students if volunteers from other parts of Juarez could afford to travel there each day and teach.

"Sometimes I get desperate for God to complete the vision," said Lechuga, "but God gives patience, because it is not easy to have faith that he will provide. I don't know how, but I know God will do it."

People familiar with Padilla's story want to share it with other Christians. "The fact that brother Padilla has a limited education and yet has furnished education to hundreds of children proves that obedience to the Lord can accomplish the unthinkable," said Wes Kelley, a construction missionary who helped Padilla build his first school buildings. "I think this ministry will continue until Christ returns."

Jeremy Weber is a journalist from Indiana.

Related Elsewhere:

More articles on Mexico include:

Mobs Expel 80 Christians | Growing number of evangelicals threatens liquor profits. (Oct. 17, 2005)
A Peacemaker in Power | Evangelical governor sparks fresh hopes for lasting peace in troubled Chiapas. (April 24, 2001)
Healing the Violence | Presbyterians, Catholics try to reconcile as expulsions persist in Chiapas. (July 25, 2000)

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