Monday, August 28, 2017

THE MOST AMAZING STORY OF DISASTER, HOPE, AND LOVE

PASTOR MARTIN AND HIS WIFE LETY...AUGUST 2017
This is a story that I wrote for Searcy Living magazine (Searcy, Arkansas) for their fall 2016 issue. I have written about Pastor Martin in the past but I felt that it was time to share this incredible story again. The story reads as follows:

I have been serving as a missionary in Juarez, Mexico for 5 years.  I came here from Searcy, Arkansas.  For several years the City of Juarez, Mexico was infamous for being the most dangerous city on the planet.  About 4 years ago I was in bed trying to sleep through the outside noise. A few times I found myself hitting the floor when I would hear bullets rocketing by just outside my bedroom window.  This particular sleepless night I decided to turn on the television set hoping that I would eventually fall asleep.  It was almost 1 am.  But something on the TV set caught my attention.  It was the story of a man who had lived a horrible life of drugs and crime, but now he serves the Lord as a Pastor.  I only caught the last few minutes of the story but it was the most amazing story I had ever heard.  But I did not get the man's name in the story.  I also did not know in what Spanish country this story had taken place.  For all I knew he was in Argentina, or maybe Spain.  But right there and then I uttered a serious prayer: "Lord, I don't know who that man was or where he's at, but someday I would love to meet him."  The next day I went to get a haircut. I was still very moved and impressed by the fragment of the story I had heard and I started to share it with those sitting around the barber shop. Immediately one of the men waiting  for a haircut said to me, "That man is my pastor. His name is Martin Nuñez."  I was shocked.  I said, "You mean to tell me that he lives here...here in Juarez?"  He responded,  "Yes, just a few blocks away, I'll take you there."  Incredible! Soon after  that I met Pastor Martin Nuñez (who lives about 10 blocks from my rental house), his wife Lety, his church, and the children and youngsters living with him.  Answered prayer!  And I also heard his full testimony.  Since that day Pastor Martin has been one of my dearest friends and a man that I love and admire as my own brother.  As amazing as his story is it only keeps growing.  Here is just part of the story from his own lips, as I translated for a team from the U.S. that visited here (his whole life story would take several books):


My life used to be practically a nightmare.  Something like a horror movie.  But it has a beautiful ending. When I was 2 years old my mother was a drug addict, as well as my father.  And one day something went wrong in my family and my 16 year old mother stabbed my father to death.  My mother was put in prison and she took me with her.  At the time there was a generational curse of drug abuse and prostitution in my family.  All my grandparents were drug addicts.  My uncles were in prison at the time and my mother and I joined them there. My uncles sold drugs in prison while they were inmates.  My mother continued to use drugs while in prison.  The guards would sell my mother to other inmates and eventually I had three more brothers born in prison, all from unknown fathers.  As a toddler I would watch my mom as she used rags with glue to get high.  At the age of 7 or 8 years old I started doing the same thing out of curiosity (after my mother would pass out from sniffing). When she carelessly left pills around I would also consume them. I had the run of the prison since I was so small and as a result my uncles and grandfather used me as a drug runner, selling drugs from cell to cell and returning with the money.  I became know as "El Gatito" (the kitten) throughout the prison.  I would look at the walls and the bars and ask my mother if we will ever get out.  She reassured me that we would.  When we were released I was 11 years old.  We were a dysfunctional family, delinquents, and we had no schooling. At 11 years old I did not know how to read or write.  I had no one to show me the right way, no one to look up to.  Immediately after being released my mother took us to our grandmother's house, dropped us of, and abandoned us to continue her life of drugs.  Poverty gave us no other choice but to hit the streets and survive through robbery and burglary.  Our grandmother, also on drugs, was pleased when we boys brought back stolen goods.  By the time I was 16 I had been back to juvenile detention about 16 to 17 times.  At the age of 16, after being charged with car theft, a judge sentenced me as an adult because of my many crimes.  So I went to prison as an adult.  When I entered the prison I felt right at home.  This was where my brothers were born and this was where I was raised.  I began using more drugs in prison.  

After I met with the judge again she asked me if I had learned my lesson. I told her that she didn't realized what she had done.  She had opened me to a bigger world of drugs and crime while at the adult prison system.  I was released but I really wanted to stay because that was home for me.  I was back in prison a few more times.  At the age of 19 I'm headed back to jail but this time it was for the stabbing murder of another young man.  It was my first murder.  I almost decapitated  the young man with a knife.  Now I was an adult and I started another phase of my nightmare. This time I went to Federal Prison.  The maximum sentence for my crime was 39 to 40 years.  The night of the murder I came home and to my surprise my mother had returned.  She asked me not to leave the house and to stay in bed.  When she fell asleep I left anyway and just a half a block away I killed a young man.  When the police caught up to me I remembered what my mom had told me - to stay home.  Had I obeyed her the crime would not have been committed.  In prison all my gang members were there and we started to tattoo our bodies. 

My life was empty and meaningless. I was 20 years old and I was tired of life. My father was dead and there was no hope for me in life anymore.  The emptiness was more that I could bear.  The emptiness led me to stab others in hopes that they would kill me first.  I wanted to die; I sought death. I once was stabbed to the point where I had to use a bed pan for six months and was left practically paralyzed. I wanted to escape life. Eventually I was able to walk again using crutches. I attempted suicide several other times.  But I couldn't even do that right. The doctors would always fix me up. Even cutting my veins did not work. Cutting my jugular veins did not work either. The doctors brought me back to life over and over again.  Eventually they tied me up so that I could not attempt suicide anymore.  

One day when when I was leaving the infirmary a man call out to me and said, "Gatito, Jesus loves you and He wants to change your life."  I got real angry when I heard that.  I thought how can anyone love me after the life I've had.  Later after that some family members came to inform me that my mother was dead due to a drug overdose.  I remembered my father, my life, and now my mom...how can I be loved. That's impossible, I said. I told that man in a rage of anger  to live his own life and I'll live mine.  I basically told him to get lost. Later I found out that he was a minister. I was given permission to leave prison to attend my mother's funeral.  When we went to the funeral I was escorted by a security officer.  I was handcuffed to him and he kept warning me not to try anything as he kept the other hand on his revolver. I remember doing drugs together with my mother while in jail, and how she brought me drugs when I was in jail, and now it was hard to believe that she was dead and inside a box. I hugged the box and the impact of the sight brought out some rare tears. Right there I promised her that I would change, though I knew that she could not hear me. My younger brothers were there and they hugged me. They were present when she died of an overdose. We cried together for the first time. Life was worse in prison now. I wanted to die even more.  Life meant nothing to me.  Death was better. 

I was taken back to prison and once again tried suicide.  But the words I had heard from that man that Jesus loved me and that I had hope kept echoing in my head.  I would try to silence that voice by covering my head and ears with my pillow but the words still penetrated through.  Over and over and over again those words haunted me.  My next attempt at suicide was to hang myself.  I had part of the sheets tied to a pipe above the sink in the cell.  I climbed up on the sink and stood on it. But those words would not leave me alone. I stepped back down and asked permission to be taken to the patio.  And I wanted to talk to the man who told me that Jesus loved me; I wanted to ask forgiveness for having been so rude to him.  

He was brought to me and I asked him for forgiveness. He graciously took me into a cell and before long I was on my knees receiving Jesus as my Lord and Savior.  I felt so filthy that I had to go immediately and take a shower. In the shower I had a supernatural encounter with Jesus and I have never been the same. The old me went down the drain with the filth. That was 18 years ago. My life was changed forever. I met men and women in jail who loved the Lord.  And they also loved ME!!!  I only went through 8 days of withdrawals after a whole life of drugs. My miracle was so deep that within three months I was preaching the gospel.  

NOTE: And so ends the story from Pastor Martin's lips. I had recorded this testimony as I was translating for him. For lack of time he cut out many things from his testimony. But I want to fill in some of those things that he left out that to me are very important, impressive, and miraculous.  Pastor Martin's life changed so much that he started a church in the jail and he became the pastor. His church would blossom to over 500 inmates. It was during this time that he learned how to read and write. He also got permission from the authorities to erect the church building inside the prison from funds he received from the outside. That church still stands today and I've had the pleasure to speak there. It was an unforgettable experience. It was at this church that he met his wife, Lety, who was also serving time for selling drugs.  She operated what is called a "picadero" (where addicts come to buy drugs, but are also given a small room to spend the night).  He asked for permission and they were married in his church at the prison. He was also pardoned from the remainder his 40 year sentence. Martin and Lety were released and they returned to Lety's "picadero", only this time to start a church there. And they also started picking up children from the streets of Juarez. These children had been abandoned and were on drugs and/or alcohol. Luis was one of the first ones picked up.  Luis was just a little over 7 years old and on cocaine.  He had been thrown out like yesterday's garbage by his family.  Today Luis is almost 22.  He is an outstanding preacher and musician and he is attending law school, specializing in juvenile law because he wants to help children going through what he went through. Sarita is 4 years old now. She was dropped off by her mom, who was a cocaine addict. She left Sarita two years ago and never returned.  The most recent member of the family is Emanuel, who is now 3 months old. He was dropped off a month ago.  Pastor Martin and his wife Lety are now the legal parents of Luis, Sarita, Emanuel, and 19 others. Their children are the musicians and worship leaders at their church sevices.  

When Pastor Martin was sharing the above testimony his wife Lety was sitting in the front row. I noticed that she cried more than anyone else in the room. I knew that she had heard that story a multitude of times.  But she cried because she can't forget and doesn't want to forget where God has brought them from and how their lives were changed by a simple "Jesus loves you..."
Pastor Martin and Lety struggle to keep these kids and young adults clothed, in school, fed, and all the other things that come with raising a child, especially ones that have such a sad past.  Anyone wanting to help, to come to Juarez for a visit or on a missions trip, or assist Pastor Martin with much needed maintenance work at his church and orphanage please call me or write me at the number below.  I also wish to bring Pastor Martin to churches in the U.S., including Puerto Rico. Any pastors interested in having him visit your church please contact me.  

And remember,  Jesus loves you and has a plan for your life.  There's hope in Jesus!


Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new. (2 Corinthians 5:17, KJV)


Now back to August 2017:

Last week Pastor Martin and a group of his many ex-prisoners along with myself drove several hours to visit another troubled city in Mexico. We ministered at re-hab centers and also the city jail. That story will be on the next blog entry. After returning to Juarez, Mexico I visited Pastor Martin the very next day. He said to me very proudly and with a huge smile, "Come here, I have something to show you." He proceeded to introduce me to a 7 year old boy, a 9 year old girl, and another 11 year old girl. They were siblings and they had just joined the Martin family. The 11 year old girl was already sexually abused by her father. They were out in the streets with all their belongings inside backpacks. As terrible as it sounds it's a good thing that they arrived at a place where hope and love thrives. Where there's real love, there's great hope. 


Daniel Torres
12397 Chamberlain Dr.
El Paso, Texas 79928
501-827-7679
d_torres53@yahoo.com


Please send me your comments below or at the information above. And please share this story because others need to read it. Thanks for all your prayers for this ministry. 

Thursday, August 3, 2017

WHEN YOUR WORLD CRUMBLES DOWN TO ASHES...


I feel that I need to share a story that I wrote back in 2010.  Our missions team from Searcy, Arkansas made regular trips to Juarez, Mexico.  I imagine that for all of us the trips were the highlight of the year.  At that time I knew that the Lord had called me into full time missionary work but I was just waiting on God's perfect timing. And within one year of writing this story I was on my way to full time work in Juarez.  Someone that you know personally needs to read this story...please share it with them.  But before you do, pray and ask the Holy Spirit to help them to receive this message.  

(P.S. Special thanks to my daughter Melissa M. Torres who saved this story because I had lost it from my files.)






The house is totally engulfed in flames. There is no one to help put the fire out, and no sign of any incoming assistance. Even if help was available, it would be too late. Much too late!! The structure is barely still standing but the fire's hunger rages on. The huge flames are shooting out of every door and window. Within seconds the entire house crumbles to the ground even as the crackling, popping, and the heat from the dry, burning wood seems to intensify. Shock continues to set in deep. Deeper...deeper. Hopelessness has long emerged. More questions arise. Answers are being devoured along with what used to be. Visions of memories, old and recent, run through the mind. The tears and lament cannot be stopped. The pain is beyond words. Every single thing that she ever treasured and loved was in the house. The knees are giving way. "Someone please stop this world from spinning. I must get off. Please, God, please!!" After hours of stillness and staring, the only thing left are the ashes. What once was the greatest of treasures has been quickly reduced to worthless ashes.  Just...ashes.  Ashes and the occasional burst of smoke that quickly dissipates into the atmosphere.  Eventually, as the monster fire dies out, even the great light that came from it gives way and it gradually begins to get dark. Until darkness becomes your new enemy and you feel as if your life has faded away with the light. What went wrong? What could have been done differently? Why? God, why...me?  

As heart wrenching as this sounds, it gets worst. The picture that I just drew for you is not that of a house. It is a picture of life. Life gone totally and completely wrong. All of the sudden life throws you a curve...and another one...and another one. Then, in a matter what appears to be minutes you find yourself sitting in a heap of ashes.  Everything that you ever worked for, possessed and dreamed about has gone up in smoke. I am not referring to material things. There are more important things, although material things may be part of the huge loss. And now, there is nothing left. Nothing, except the pain... and the ashes.  You have joined ranks with Job (Job 2:8). Have you been there?  
The enemy of your soul has come to kill, steal, and destroy (John 10:10), and if he could speak to you, he would be very proud of his accomplishment.

What if I told you that I know of a place where this picture has been repeated over and over again? I know of many young girls, most of them barely teenagers, which have already experienced this picture in their lives. They have already sat on the ash heap of life. I am so very glad to report that with the help of Jesus, they are rising up and walking towards a new life. I was there recently. Let me share that story.

The place is called Casa de Refugio de Jovencitas (House of Refuge for Young Girls). It is located in Juarez, Mexico, a city that has been plagued by murders, drugs, prostitution, and every imaginable evil known to man. It is called the most dangerous city in the Western Hemisphere. Federal troops patrol the city and the crime only escalates. Ministries have been shut down or have left. When I was there from January 1st to the 4th, I met a Pastor who told me that he was under a death watch by the drug cartels. He knows of 24 other Pastors who are in similar circumstances. I sensed the fear in his heart and did all I could to encourage him.

The House of Refuge currently houses 48 young girls. These girls have experienced drugs, abortions, violence, rebellion, and prostitution (in some cases they were put in that situation by their own families for financial reasons). Some of these girls are dragged in by the Department of Human Services and the Police, some are brought in by extended family members, a few realize that they need help and come by themselves, and others are brought in by orphanages who have given up on the child and no longer feel that they can handle them. The youngest one this time (I have been to the city and the Refuge 19 times) was 11 years old. She looked as if she was around 9 years old. The oldest one was 25. Most of them range in age from 13 to 17. You cannot come to this Refuge without feeling the pain and sense of loss for their innocence and youth. You cannot come to this Refuge without having your heart ripped out. Either one of these girls could be your sister, daughter, or even yourself at that age. You cannot come to this Refuge and not fall in love with their...smiles. 

And yes, many of them have experienced healing. Most are going through a healing process. You can hear their laughter again. When they first walk through the doors of the Refuge, there are no smiles. They go through an extensive six months of classes and spiritual training. Maricruz Rios, the Director, receives these girls with love and compassion. However, she knows what tough love is about, and she is not afraid to use it.  Many times I have heard Maricruz crying out to God for these girls. Some girls choose to not leave after the six months. Tabitha has been there for six years. They choose to stay within the confines of the Refuge to help with the untold number of girls who come through every year. The Refuge is a lighthouse in the midst of destruction, chaos, confusion, and... ashes. For every single young girl in the Refuge, there are an untold number of girls in the streets. It is estimated that there are 15,000 youth living in the streets of Juarez.

When we hear the life stories that these young girls share with us it is impossible to not be touched. I met the oldest one last summer. At one time she was in prison. While she was there, her little boy was sexually molested by a male relative. She also has a 2-year-old daughter, who is partially responsible for her mom coming to the Refuge. Last year while the little girl saw her mom injecting drugs into her veins, she put her little arm out asking her mom for a dose of the drug. It was then that the mom decided that she had to do something for her sake and for the sake and her children. She received help to come to the Refuge and her life has been transformed.

While I was there at the onset of 2010, I shared with the girls a message. The scripture text was as follows:  The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God. To comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion - to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. (Isaiah 61: 1-3).

It was then that I gave them the picture of the house that I painted for you at the start of this story. I did not have to explain too hard the connection between the house and their lives. They easily saw it. I could see it in their sad faces and tears. I spoke about the negative things in the verse: the poor (not in a financial sense), the brokenhearted, the captives, the darkness, the prisoners, the mourning, the grieving, the ashes, and the spirit of despair. All these I explained in a spiritual sense. They knew what I was talking about. They had experienced these things. Then I explained the alternative: the good news, the binding up, the freedom, the releasing, the comforting, the provision, the crown of beauty, the oil of gladness, and the garment of praise.
  
I explained to them that it was with that verse that Jesus initiated His ministry. In Luke chapter 4, Jesus opened the scroll of Isaiah, read that verse, and sat down. The verse was about Him. He was the One who would take all the negatives in exchange for the positives. It was Jesus who said, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and you shall find rest unto your souls" (Matthew 11:28, 29).

There is always an exchange that takes place between us and Jesus. We give Him the negatives; He gives us the positives. In this case Jesus says, "give Me your ashes, and I'll give you a crown of beauty". Many times we refuse to give Him the ashes. We prefer to keep them as a memorial, a trophy to keep on our spiritual mantel to remind ourselves and to show the world that we have suffered. The ashes become the chip that we carry on our shoulders, the unforgiveness that we carry in our hearts, and the poison that destroys our spiritual man. But Jesus cannot release the crown of beauty into our lives until we extend our hands and release the death-grip that we have on our prized ashes.

I closed the message with an invitation to come to me at the front and offer their ashes to Jesus. As I looked up to the back of the room, even as I was not yet finished with the invitation, the 25-year-old, the oldest one, the one who had once been in jail, was making her way to the front. Within seconds the front was filled with young women, whose lives had been destroyed, offering their ashes to Jesus. The tears, the crying, and the wailing would tear your heart. We all cried together. One young one in particular found her way under my right arm, dug her face into my chest and cried profusely. She held me so tight that I had difficulty breathing. She left the tears on my shirt, but most importantly, she had unloaded her ashes into the hands of Jesus and healing had begun. I saw her as a rose bud that will soon develop into a beautiful flower; a life who would become a blessing for others to see.

Leaving the Refuge is always so hard. For years the girls have called me Uncle Daniel. We have a very special relationship although most of them I only get to see once or twice and then they move on to a new life. It is good to know that in a city as hard as this one is that there is, and always will be, lives that are being transformed from ashes into crowns beauty.

This was the message I gave those precious young women. This is the message I am leaving with you here in Main Street, America. You may be suffering as these girls have suffered. You may be facing divorce, lost of a loved one, drug problems, bankruptcy, serious health issues, or... just fill in the blank. Either way, you find yourself sitting on a heap of ashes and darkness is overtaking you. You need only to open your eyes and there is One before you with His hands stretched out. With love in His eyes and a big smile on His lips He speaks to you, "Give Me your ashes, and I'll give you beauty". His name is Jesus.




I just finished six years of serving the Lord in Juarez, Mexico.  And every Friday morning my wife Blanquita and I head to the girls refuge where we teach them the Word of God.  The joy that I felt when I visited the ministry years ago is even stronger today.  Currently there are from 45 to 50 young girls/women at the refuge.  Every Friday I am a witness to the transforming power of God.  I witness the new faces coming in with the ashes of anger, hatred, hearts and lives destroyed, hopelessness, rebellion, and despair.  And in a few weeks I witness the big smiles, new-found hope, healing, love...the glowing crown of beauty.

If anyone or a church group wishes to make a missions trip to Juarez, Mexico or to donate funds for use in Juarez you may contact me at the number below.  Please continue to pray for our work and safety in Juarez.  Also, please leave your comments below. Blessings to all.


Maranatha,

Daniel Torres
501-827-7679
d_torres53@yahoo.com