In a world that often values quick success and immediate recognition, there are stories that remind us what true service really means. Recently in Ecuador, a moving testimony has emerged that invites us to reflect on what it means to answer God's call with complete dedication. It's the memoir of a pastor who, for over three decades, walked alongside indigenous communities, listening to their pains and celebrating their joys.
This personal account comes at a special time for the universal Church. We fondly remember the ministry of Pope Francis, who passed away in April 2025, and today we rejoice in the leadership of Pope Leo XIV, elected in May of the same year. Both pontiffs have taught us that the Church must be a community that goes out to encounter others, especially those on the margins.
The memoirs, presented at the Salesian Polytechnic University in Quito, bear a title that summarizes an entire life: "The Lord Sent Me to Evangelize." These words, which were also the author's episcopal motto, resonate powerfully in our hearts. Isn't this the call we all receive at baptism? Evangelization isn't the exclusive task of priests or religious, but the mission of all God's people.
Evangelization with a Human Face
What makes this testimony particularly meaningful is how it understands evangelization. Not as theoretical discourse or cultural imposition, but as authentic encounter between people. The university rector where the book was presented emphasized precisely this: that the option for social justice is a constitutive part of proclaiming the Gospel.
This perspective reminds us of the prophet Micah's words: "He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God" (Micah 6:8, NIV). Justice isn't an optional add-on to the Christian message, but its concrete expression in the world.
During his ministry in Riobamba, this pastor understood that evangelizing involved both words and gestures. Gestures like accompanying dialogue processes between the government and indigenous communities, defending the dignity of native peoples, believing that another world is possible when we treat each other as brothers and sisters. These gestures speak louder than many sermons.
Memory as a Gift to the Community
The memoirs weren't born from a desire for personal prominence, but as a response to a community invitation. A fellow bishop, who met the author when he was a teenager, encouraged him during an informal conversation to put his pastoral experience in writing. The motivation was clear: it was a duty to the country and to the Church.
At a time when the Ecuadorian Church was accompanying complex dialogues between the government and farming and indigenous communities, it was important to show that this presence wasn't accidental or improvised. It responded to a long history of personal conversion and closeness to the most vulnerable. As the apostle Peter says: "Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms" (1 Peter 4:10, NIV).
This book is precisely that: putting the gift of a surrendered life at the service of the community. It's a testimony that helps us understand that the Church's presence in spaces of social conflict isn't "a shot in the dark," but the fruit of a conscious choice to be where people suffer and hope.
Lessons for Our Journey Today
What can we learn from this testimony in our current context? First, that Christian service moves to a different rhythm than the world's. While our culture celebrates what's young, new, and immediate, the Gospel invites us to value faithfulness, perseverance, and the quiet work of planting seeds that may take generations to bear fruit. This bishop's three decades with indigenous communities remind us that transformation often happens slowly, through relationships built on trust and mutual respect.
Second, that evangelization is never a one-way street. The bishop's testimony reveals how much he received from the communities he served—their wisdom, their resilience, their deep connection to creation. True mission involves both giving and receiving, both teaching and learning. As Pope Francis often reminded us, we need to create a "culture of encounter" where we allow ourselves to be transformed by those we seek to serve.
Finally, this story challenges us to examine our own understanding of success. In a world measured by numbers and visible outcomes, here was a ministry that valued presence over programs, relationships over results, and faithfulness over fame. The bishop's legacy isn't measured in buildings built or converts made, but in lives touched and dignity restored.
As we navigate our own callings—whether in ministry, family, work, or community—may we remember that the most profound impact often comes not from what we achieve, but from how we love. And may we have the courage to walk alongside those on the margins, knowing that in serving them, we serve Christ himself.
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