I remember waking up to a bumpy road as we made our arrival in the town where I would spend the next 12 years of my life. It was early at dawn, the sky was completely painted orange and it was already very warm. Welcome to town.
I was born in a Christian home. My parents had been pastors separately during their single years and when they got married they joined forces and pastored one church together. For the first six years of my life, we lived the Mexican dream in Ensenada. We had a house with a green grassed front yard and a few acres of land behind our house that my dad used to work, as did the rest of his brothers. I would often fall asleep on the tractor after spending the entire day with my dad while He plowed the land.
One day, we visited a car dealership. My brother and I quickly saw a car we liked and all of a sudden we were jumping on the seats shouting to our parents “Let’s go, this car is ours now!” while they asked for the price of the van. We didn’t buy the van that day and we went home quite disappointed. The very next day we saw my dad arrive home in the van we claimed as ours. Someone who owed him money reached out that afternoon to pay him back. That was the first time I learned the power that words carry as my mom pointed out that our declaration was the reason that it happened. That day we also found out that we were soon moving somewhere else. Both my parents have a heart for missions and for a while they had been thinking about planting a church in the little town my mom had grown up in. The next thing I remember was waking up to that bumpy arrival under the orange sky.
My parents often tell the story of how much they were inspired when they met a 5-year-old boy who played the keyboard and led worship for the entire congregation. They wanted to raise musically skilled kids that led worship unto the Lord. They wanted us to be “consecrated,” “separated unto the Lord.” All this was backed up by prophetic words they had received about my brother and I before we were even born. That is why they did what I have seen many missionary parents do, “abandon the land of your forefathers and go to the land I will show you”.
They had some restrictions in place for us while growing up. Despite my grandma’s efforts to convince my parents, we never had a videogame console. Instead, we would open Christmas presents to medical toys or clothing. My parents thought that it was not a good idea for us to waste our time in front of a screen and I think they are still right.
My parents faced criticism from both sides of the family because of the way they were raising us. However, they stood firm in their idea that we were not yet ready to make good choices on our own. They would rhetorically ask us: “If you let a child choose between a bowl of soup and a chocolate bar, what is the child going to choose?” The answer was obvious and this reasoning was most of the time effective in diluting our anxieties.
My parents made sure we also had fun things to keep us occupied while being productive. For a while, I was a part of a baseball team. To give you an idea of how good of a player I was let me tell you that one day in a game we had “bases full.” A deep sense of doom filled the rest of the team when they learned I was next on the bat. I heard someone shout behind my back -“Misa, if you do a home run, we’ll give you a brand new baseball!”-. What happened next was motive of celebration that day. I went home with a new baseball!.
Music made its appearance early in my life as well. My dad was my first teacher. He would pay me 5 pesos for every new beat I learned. He would ask every visiting missionary drummer to teach me a new beat. When I found it hard to learn a new beat, I’d throw a tantrum and go to my room and cry. I know, shameful! But hey! My brother would sometimes stop playing drums in the middle of a song during a church service because he was tired.
My dad used to take us once a week for music classes to the nearest city. He would often be frustrated when teachers didn’t teach us quick enough. He thought they wanted us to learn at a slower pace so they could prolong their classes with us, thus getting paid more hours. We hopped from school to school. Karate, computing, English, fast reading classes and music classes.
My parents went above and beyond to provide as many tools and resources as possible for my brother and I. I am eternally grateful for the investment my parents have made and continue making in us, championing us to go further than we could ever go on our own.
All these things have been great and useful throughout my life. However, I don’t think they alone would have been strong enough to keep me in church.
My parents did a great job in modeling spirituality for us. My earliest memories go back to my dad reading us bible stories and helping us memorize bible verses before bed. I remember hearing my mom passionately pray every day at 6 o’clock in the morning and having our family devotions before bed deeply impacted my personal journey with God.
Ever since I was a kid I used to sing in the shower so loud that my family used to call me “little Plácido Domingo.” My mom was often invited to sing and speak in Hispanic churches in California. She recorded a few albums that included original songs inspired by her life experiences. She first introduced to us the concept of the “Secret Place,” often reminding us that we both had to learn to cultivate our “Secret place” with Jesus because, that, she couldn’t do for us.
There was a constant awareness of God in our family. We had an old dog named Dixie. When I was playing outside, He would sometimes stare at me. I used to think it was God disguised in a dog form and that he was there to watch me as I played outside. I was therefore on my best behavior under Dixie’s supervision.
My awareness of God also brought some fears. My biggest fear when I was a child was to be left behind in the rapture. When my parents would take a little longer than expected to get home, I would immediately repent, asking for the forgiveness of my sins. Back then, my sins went probably as far as fighting with my brother.
I thought salvation was to be earned and that my ability to go to heaven depended on how well I was behaving in every single moment. Would I be caught in an unconfessed, un-repented and unforgiven sin, I was destined to suffer “the tribulation”. It makes me sad that there are people living in bondage because of this lie.
As I continued learning to play music, I would sit at the piano every day. I began exploring with different chord progressions and in my attempt to relate to God, I began talking to him through songs. I would go off a particular song and sing pieces of whatever my heart wanted to say. During these moments of devotion, I would experience different feelings that I couldn’t quite understand, and today I realize that my heart was being awakened to God’s presence.
As a teenager, I became the kids’ pastor and later I moved to lead the youth and worship band of my parent’s church. Being outspoken about my faith and being known in school as a Christian and the pastor’s kid I often saw myself in the need to defend my faith. I was only willing to “fight” for something if I was sure it was real. Therefore I developed a passion for apologetics that led me to read articles and watch videos that would aid me in providing arguments for my faith.
This situation also fed the previously existing lie that I needed to maintain a “reputation” because I was the pastor’s kid. Even to this day, I’ve seen there’s still this unspoken expectation that the children of people in leadership are supposed to be exemplary. It hasn’t been until recently that I’ve felt that I can be my true self around my friends and even show my weaknesses accepting the fact that I don’t need to have it all together.
When I was 18, I moved to Tijuana to attend university. That was a big step for me. From being in a safe place to moving to Tijuana where my parents weren’t always watching. Some people feared I was going to abandon my faith by going to college, but the opposite happened.
Transitioning from high school to university was difficult for me. Going from having the highest scores to almost failing a class was completely overwhelming. It was then that I saw myself leaning even closer to God. I began having encounters with him listening to worship music while driving between Tijuana and Ensenada.
If you’ve lived in the church world for a while you’ll remember this trend when everyone began saying that Christianity was not a religion but a relationship. It seemed that all of the sudden, everybody wanted to get rid of the word religion and what was attached to it. We all wanted to be modern and relevant to culture. (I am still for this, but in a different way). I kind of got into this Christian anarchist mode and would make all these teenager-like posts on Facebook in my effort to change Christian culture. Being a part of a Christian band and getting to see and hear about many more ministries, I began to discover that not everyone was as sacrificial or good-intentioned in the Christian world.
There were moments when I had had enough. At times I wanted to curse the church; I was so sick of its rules and regulations. I pointed out its hypocrisy, flaws, and shortcomings. I had seen people being hurt by the church. All along, I was also fighting my own battles and being angry at myself for not living up to the same standards I judged others for.
Looking back, I can see that it was experiencing God on my own, having him become real to me, becoming my closest friend and hearing his voice that kept me around the church because in each and every one of my worst days, there He was, my friend, waiting in the “secret place.” He would always remind me that I was already forgiven, never making me feel ashamed of myself. He would always welcome me with his tender-hearted voice, always calling me son. Jesus who loves his bride, the church he died for and wouldn’t hesitate to die for her again if he needed to. How could I dare to speak against his beloved bride?.
His love for me on my worst days brought me to the realization that I am also a part of his bride and that I have at times hurt people too and even then, he never doubted his love for me. Who am I to hold people of my own kind accountable for the fruits of their fear and pain?.
I often encounter parents that are looking for a good example or formula to raise their kids. If there’s any advice I could give based on my experience is this: Give them the gift of Jesus, because no amount of correction, exhortation or admonition can bring us back to the heart of God. It’s only His unending, unconditional love that brings us to repentance and wholeness. He can melt the hardest of hearts.
The scripture says, “Train up a child in the way he should go, And when he is old he will not depart from it.”
Today I have the privilege of being a part of the lives of children that have faced the worst outcomes of human decadence. My deepest and truest desire for them is to discover the love of Jesus on their own. To discover the goodness of their creator and enjoy his companionship through the highs and lows of life.
I am forever grateful that my parents not only trained me in the ways of the church, but more than anything, they presented to me the way.
Many of the ways of the church have grown obsolete, but there is one way, the truth and the life. He is everlasting.
