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And I Believed!
By Ximena Urra
I was born in Chile, the third of four siblings. Although I did not come from a Christian family, my parents believed in God in their way. When my dad proposed to my mom, he wanted to get married in a Methodist church. However, my mom was a nominal Catholic. During that time many believed that if you didn’t get married by a priest in a Catholic church, you weren’t really married! So my mom, under tremendous pressure by her family, was very apprehensive. One night my mom had a dream about Jesus. In the dream, He was blessing a bride – just like the priests do. When she awoke, she thought, “God is giving me the blessing to get married in the Methodist Church.” So they married.
My dad decided that they would raise us to believe in God but not in idols, and he wanted us to have the freedom to choose what religion to follow. I mention this because salvation came to my family through my father’s testimony.
My parents worked at a children’s rehabilitation hospital. My mother was an auxiliary nurse, and my dad was an administrator. Both worked long, hard hours to support our family. Even though we didn’t have much, my parents taught us to share everything we did have. One Christmas they couldn’t afford to buy us presents, so they called us together to explain why. We learned that being together was the real gift, and then they challenged us to give away one of our own toys for the homeless kids. So each one of us cleaned up one of our toys, and we gave them away.
As a child, I was a daddy’s girl. I found refuge only behind my dad’s legs. For some reason, I was always afraid and very shy; yet when I was with Dad, I always felt protected. I struggled in my early teens. I was so insecure! I felt people would be better off without me. I felt little, unloved, and unwanted. The feelings were like a seed, growing stronger within me until I contemplated suicide. The thoughts tormented me. I unsuccessfully attempted to end my life in several ways. I recall running into the street with the hopes of getting run over by a car, but my youngest sister stopped me. I felt hopeless. Life was just too hard.
It was only when I sang that I’d feel better. One day I asked my mom if she could listen to me and tell me if she thought I had a good voice. Of course I asked her to look away from me as I was just too shy. As I sang, she suddenly turned around and said excitedly, “You can sing!!” And I believed her!
During that time, my father became a Christian and started to share with us about Jesus. One by one each member of our family accepted Christ as their Savior, all except my mom and me.
When I was 18 years old, I had the opportunity to audition on TV as part of a singing competition and won a scholarship to study music professionally. It was a dream come true! My mom was my biggest fan. My father continued to share with me about Jesus and invited me to church. I did attend occasionally, but I loved music so much more. The sound of the applause made me feel the love and acceptance I longed for.
One day I was invited to sing at my father’s church. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time God spoke to me. I wish I could say God spoke a word of encouragement, but on the contrary, it was a reprimand. As I sang “Amazing Grace” (in a miniskirt no less, as well as a sleeveless blouse and black nails that matched my heart), I heard a voice say, “This is MY place! If you want fame, go to the world! THIS is MY place.”
Fear rushed over me. I started to shake. I forgot the lyrics. I was a liar. I didn’t understand what amazing grace was. I wasn’t that saved wretch. I didn’t know the One who freely gives that grace, but apparently He knew me well. And I was about to get to know Him.
As the time passed, I couldn’t shake the encounter I had with God. I knew Jesus was calling me. I was at a crossroads. I couldn’t avoid Him. The following Sunday I went to church and without waiting for an altar call, I kneeled at the pulpit. With eyes full of tears, I confessed my sins. “Lord, I don’t love you. I love music more. But if you are the God of my father, please help me to love you more than anything. My life is yours. . . . ”
In that moment, I did experience amazing grace. Music had been my idol, and I decided to give it all up for Christ. I left my singing career behind . . . so I thought.
My church didn’t believe in the baptism in the Holy Spirit. They taught that the book of Acts was only history. Even so, our youth group was longing for more of God; therefore, we decided to get together just to pray. As we prayed, God baptized us all in the Holy Spirit, and suddenly I started to worship in a language I’ve never spoken!
I heard a voice say, “This is MY place! If you want fame, go to the world! THIS is MY place.”
This created a lot of problems at church; however, our testimonies and passion to share the gospel with everyone around us was evident and real. Who can tell God what He can or cannot do? What God starts man cannot stop! The Holy Spirit was for today too… And I believed!
Months later during a youth retreat, the guest speaker shared about “finding your ministry.” God spoke to me that night and said, “You will preach through singing, and I will take you out of the country.” And I believed His words!
I went home excited to tell my mom about my experience. At that time she still wasn’t a believer, so when I shared what the Lord told me that night, she smirked and said, “We don’t even have money to take a simple vacation, and you say you’re going out of the country?”
Three months later I was asked to join a Christian music group. I thought, “God, I gave up singing. How can this be?” So I prayed to the Lord, seeking His guidance, and He answered me through Isaiah 12:4-6:
Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name; make known among the nations what he has done, and proclaim that his name is exalted. Sing to the Lord, for he has done glorious things; let this be known to all the world. Shout aloud and sing for joy, people of Zion, for great is the Holy One of Israel among you.
Within five months, I was touring the United States with the Christian music group, and my mom believed, the last member of my family to receive Christ!
Then my mom and I had a healing breakthrough. She didn’t understand why she found it hard to connect with God, to cry. I respectfully asked her if there was something she hadn’t yet confessed to God, so we prayed for God’s direction.
“Nothing comes to my mind,” she said.
But while I was praying, I saw a picture with the word “abortion” on it. The very instant that I pronounced that word, my mom started to cry, saying, “Dear daughter, please forgive me!”
I didn’t understand; I was confused. Why was she asking me to forgive her?
She continued, “When I was pregnant with you, I tried to abort you. Your father didn’t know. We were struggling economically. There was no way we could feed another baby. When I told your father, he was very upset and told me that it didn’t matter how poor we were, we were going to have you.”
The healing that transpired from such a hidden secret was profound for both of us. And I could finally comprehend that the feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and insecure were real emotions that started from my mother’s womb. The abortion did not work because I WAS wanted. God wanted me! God had plans for me! And in the end, my parents wanted me too!
Sometimes sharing our story can bring painful memories, but it also reminds us of God’s faithfulness and that we are still in the process of being more like Jesus.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11).
God gave me this promise. And I believed!
One day I read a book about the life of Eliza Davis George, a missionary who served in Liberia. Her life story and bravery inspired me. I wanted to be brave too. I decided I would serve God even though I was afraid! So I joined a team on a missionary trip focused on evangelism inside my own country. It was an amazing experience to see God move in such a supernatural way. I knew it was just the beginning of my journey in the ministry.
I met my husband, Pablo, in 1989 during my first trip to the United States. (I was literally followed everywhere by this godly man, but that is a whole other story!) After a year of letters and phone calls, we got married in 1990 and moved to the U.S., where I began working as a graphic designer for a Christian book publisher in Miami, Florida. My boss at that time saw potential in me. She taught me everything she knew and always encouraged me by saying, “You can do it!” And I believed her, so my designing ability blossomed and flourished.
As my career unfolded, so did my desire to serve in missions. But my husband and I were not on the same page. He used to say, “We will serve together, but I’m not going to be a missionary nor a pastor!” Instead of going against the current, I chose to ride the wave in prayer. After five years of laying hands over my husband in prayer (while he slept), in 1997 God placed it in his heart to join his first missionary trip to Venezuela. During that trip we received a word from God: “You will be out of the country soon and join an international ministry.” And we believed.
She continued, “When I was pregnant with you, I tried to abort you.
Many years later, we have faithfully served through various ministries such as Logos II of Operation Mobilization and visited 28 countries sharing the gospel alongside 200 volunteers from around the world while working in the floating book exhibition, being part of the official openings in every country, singing in front of governing authorities in every port, visiting orphanages, schools and hospitals, conducting open air programs, projecting Jesus films in the local languages, and distributing books and Bibles. And through the years we continue preparing short-term groups and leaders through INSTE and serving the local and global Church.
In October of 2016, we were ordained as lead pastors for Templo de la Biblia Abierta in Miami, Florida. Here we are, full circle from where we first began, but the journey of service to the Lord will never end. There’s still so much to do. I keep learning and longing to be used by God to accomplish His purposes while I trust that “everything is possible for one who believes” (Mark 9:23).
About the Author
Ximena Urra lives in Miami, Florida, with her husband, Pablo Urra. They both serve as pastors of Templo de la Biblia Abierta. Ximena also works as a freelance graphic designer. They have visited over 40 countries serving on short-term mission trips on board the Operation Mobilization ship, the LOGOS II, and participating in other ministries. Both received their Bible and Theology diplomas from INSTE Global Bible College. Ximena is part of the National Board of Directors of Open Bible Churches.
Isaac dug out again the wells that were dug during the lifetime of his father Abraham. The Philistines had closed them up after Abraham’s death. Isaac gave them the same names his father had given them. Isaac’s servants dug wells in the valley and found a well there with fresh water. (Genesis 26:18-19 CEB).
I came to faith as a teenager and had very few church experiences up to that point. My earliest formation as a Christ follower took place within Open Bible church settings, where I found deep community and meaningful spiritual experiences that I continue to value. At the same time, as in many modern evangelical churches, there was limited exposure to the ancient liturgies and historic practices of the wider Church.
These traditional cornerstones that were foundational to ecclesial life for millennia had been almost eliminated in the churches I attended. It seemed to me that these practices were at best met with ignorance and at worst with grave suspicion. The predictable result was that any real understanding and appreciation for ancient liturgical practices was absent from the first two decades of my church life. I rarely thought about things like Ash Wednesday services, the Book of Common Prayer, and Advent, and if I did, it was with a healthy side dish of uninformed judgment. I viewed Lent the same way I viewed lentils: it was a cold and exotic experience that was both frightening to prepare and painful to consume.
I viewed Lent the same way I viewed lentils: it was a cold and exotic experience that was both frightening to prepare and painful to consume.
This was my context as a few of our church staff began asking whether we could introduce some of these ancient practices into our church worship experience. As you might imagine given my church background, it took me a while to warm up to the idea. I began a process of asking questions, listening, and learning, even reaching out to an Anglican priest friend to hear his take on the value of these long-held traditions. Through all this, Christ in His goodness and patience has allowed us now to incorporate many of these practices into our regular church experience. As a result, I am happy to report that we are experiencing wonderful depth and meaning in our gatherings as we’ve adopted and applied some of these long-proven elements of discipleship.
Our time of worship now always includes the public reading of a Psalm (a practice we have adopted from the Book of Common Prayer) to bring us back to the ancient hymn book of Israel. We have a fresh understanding of what it is to give up something physical in order to gain something spiritual as we fast in the forty days of Lent. Christmas time and the lighting of Advent candles help us celebrate Christ’s first arrival while reminding us to await His second arrival. And Ash Wednesday, with its outward sign of repentance and mortality, leads us to humble ourselves before God, understanding how desperately we need His saving grace. Finally, the celebration of life on Easter Sunday has far greater meaning now because it is preceded by the sobriety of the death we remember on Good Friday.
This is not to say that incorporating these elements has always been smooth. We’ve learned to introduce them slowly and with great attention to the “why” behind the “what.” Along the way, we’ve had our share of growth opportunities and mishaps. One example happened early on in our journey, when we tried to introduce some ancient call and response types of prayers. The practice led several people to worry that we had become a completely different kind of church. We haven’t yet reintroduced those prayers in our services.
We have found that moving slowly and consistently, explaining the meaning of the practices, and laughing at ourselves through our failed attempts have been the key ingredients to discovering the power of these ancient gifts.
Another example took place during last year’s Ash Wednesday service. During this type of service, ash is used to mark the sign of a cross on each believer’s forehead. This marking symbolizes our own mortality and repentance, as we take up our cross and turn from our sins. Well, our beloved worship leader wanted to add scent to the ashes to create a fuller sensory experience. To do so, he incorporated essential oils, including cinnamon, into the ashes. Little did any of us know that undiluted cinnamon oil burns on the skin. Talk about your full sensory experience. All of us in the service sat wondering what it reveals about our spiritual condition if the ash cross on our forehead feels like it’s on fire. There was a great sigh of relief when our executive pastor let people know what had happened, and a mad dash to the bathrooms ensued as people quickly washed away the painful marker. The next Sunday I formally apologized for turning their Ash Wednesday into a Rash Wednesday.
In these moments and more, we have found that moving slowly and consistently, explaining the meaning of the practices, and laughing at ourselves through our failed attempts have been the key ingredients to discovering the power of these ancient gifts. Just as Isaac reopened the ancient wells of his father to discover pure water, we too can rediscover the meaning of these ancient practices in our churches and experience their fresh water again.
About the Author
Aaron Sutherland is the founding pastor of Cove Church in Eugene, Oregon, and the Director of Multiplication for Pacific Region Open Bible. Along with his wife, Paula, he finds great joy in watching God reveal the new stories being written into the lives of people from every corner of the world.
Y volvió a abrir Isaac los pozos de agua que habían abierto en los días de Abraham su padre, y que los filisteos habían cegado después de la muerte de Abraham; y los llamó por los nombres que su padre los había llamado. Pero cuando los siervos de Isaac cavaron en el valle, y hallaron allí un pozo de aguas vivas. (Génesis 26:18-19, RVR-1960).
Me convertí al cristianismo en la adolescencia y, hasta ese momento, había tenido muy pocas experiencias en la iglesia. Mi formación inicial como seguidor de Cristo tuvo lugar en la iglesia de la Biblia Abierta, donde encontré una comunidad profunda y experiencias espirituales significativas que sigo valorando. Al mismo tiempo, como en muchas iglesias evangélicas modernas, el contacto con las antiguas liturgias y prácticas de la Iglesia en general era limitado.
Estos pilares tradicionales, que durante milenios habían sido fundamentales para la vida de la Iglesia, habían sido prácticamente eliminados de las iglesias a las que asistía. Me parecía que, en el mejor de los casos, estas prácticas se ignoraban y, en el peor, se miraban con gran recelo. El resultado previsible fue que, durante las dos primeras décadas de mi vida eclesiástica, no llegué a conocer ni a apreciar realmente estas antiguas prácticas litúrgicas. Rara vez pensaba en cosas como los servicios del Miércoles de Ceniza, el Libro de Oración Común y el Adviento, y, si lo hacía, era con una buena dosis de prejuicios. Veía la Cuaresma de la misma manera que veía las lentejas: una experiencia fría y exótica que daba miedo preparar y era dolorosa de consumir.
Veía la Cuaresma de la misma manera que veía las lentejas: una experiencia fría y exótica que daba miedo preparar y era dolorosa de consumir.
Este era mi contexto cuando algunos miembros del personal de nuestra iglesia comenzaron a preguntar si podríamos incorporar algunas de estas prácticas antiguas en nuestra experiencia de adoración en la iglesia. Como se pueden imaginar, dada mi formación eclesiástica, me llevó un tiempo aceptar la idea. Empecé a hacer preguntas, a escuchar y a aprender. Incluso me puse en contacto con un amigo sacerdote anglicano para conocer su opinión sobre el valor de estas tradiciones tan arraigadas. A través de todo esto, Cristo, en su bondad y paciencia, nos ha permitido ahora incorporar muchas de estas prácticas en nuestra experiencia eclesiástica habitual. Me complace informar de que nuestras reuniones tienen ahora una profundidad y un significado maravillosos en nuestras reuniones, ya que hemos adoptado y aplicado algunos de estos elementos del discipulado que han demostrado su eficacia con el paso del tiempo.
Ahora, nuestro tiempo de adoración siempre incluye la lectura pública de un salmo (una práctica que hemos adoptado del Libro de Oración Común) que nos transporta al antiguo himnario de Israel. Tenemos una nueva comprensión de lo que significa renunciar a algo material o para ganar algo espiritual mientras ayunamos durante los cuarenta días de Cuaresma. La época navideña y la ceremonia de encender las velas de Adviento nos ayudan a celebrar la primera Venida de Cristo, y a recordar que debemos esperar su segunda venida. Y el Miércoles de Ceniza, con su signo externo de arrepentimiento y mortalidad, nos invita a humillarnos ante Dios, y a reconocer cuán desesperadamente necesitamos su gracia salvadora. Por último, la celebración de la vida el Domingo de Pascua tiene ahora un significado mucho mayor, ya que va precedida de la sobriedad de la muerte que recordamos el Viernes Santo.
Esto no quiere decir que la incorporación de estos elementos siempre haya sido fácil. Hemos aprendido a introducirlos poco a poco, prestando mucha atención al «porqué» detrás del «qué». A lo largo del camino, hemos tenido nuestras oportunidades de crecimiento y nuestros contratiempos. Un ejemplo ocurrió al principio de nuestro camino, cuando intentamos introducir algunas oraciones antiguas de llamada y respuesta. La práctica llevó a varias personas a preocuparse de que nos hubiéramos convertido en un tipo de iglesia completamente diferente. Todavía no hemos reintroducido esas oraciones en nuestros servicios.
Hemos descubierto que movernos lenta y consistentemente, explicar el significado de las prácticas y reírnos de nosotros mismos a través de nuestros intentos fallidos han sido los ingredientes clave para descubrir el poder de estos antiguos dones.
Otro ejemplo ocurrió durante el servicio del Miércoles de Ceniza del año pasado. En este tipo de servicio, se utiliza ceniza para trazar una cruz en la frente de cada creyente. Esta marca simboliza nuestra propia mortalidad y arrepentimiento, y representa el momento en que tomamos nuestra cruz y nos apartamos de nuestros pecados. Bueno, nuestro querido líder de adoración quiso añadir aroma a las cenizas para crear una experiencia sensorial más completa. Para ello, añadió aceites esenciales, entre ellos canela, a las cenizas. Ninguno de nosotros sabía que el aceite de canela sin diluir quema la piel. Hablando de una experiencia sensorial completa… Todos los que estábamos en el servicio nos sentamos preguntándonos qué revelaba acerca de nuestra condición espiritual el hecho de que la cruz de ceniza de nuestra frente pareciera estar ardiendo. Hubo un gran suspiro de alivio cuando nuestro pastor ejecutivo informó a la gente de lo que había sucedido, y se produjo una carrera loca hacia los baños para lavarse rápidamente la dolorosa marca. Al domingo siguiente me disculpé formalmente por haber convertido su Miércoles de Ceniza en un Miércoles de Erupción.
En este y en otros momentos, hemos descubierto que avanzar lentamente y con constancia, explicar el significado de las prácticas y reírnos de nosotros mismos ante nuestros intentos fallidos han sido los ingredientes clave para descubrir el poder de estos antiguos legados. Al igual que Isaac reabrió los antiguos pozos de su padre para encontrar agua pura, nosotros también podemos redescubrir el significado de estas antiguas prácticas en nuestras iglesias y volver a experimentar su agua fresca
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Sobre el autor
Aaron Sutherland es el pastor fundador de la iglesia Cove Church en Eugene, Oregón, y director de Multiplicación de la región del Pacífico de la Biblia Abierta. Junto con su esposa, Paula, disfruta ver cómo Dios escribe nuevas historias en la vida de personas de todo el mundo.
I wonder what happened on all the August 5ths throughout my life. I experienced forty-seven of them as an innocuous number on the calendars of my life: unremarkable, ordinary, plain. I breezed past them without a thought and left them behind without a thought, too.
I will never forget my forty-eighth August 5th. For the rest of my (hopefully) long life, every 5th day of August will be marked in red and circled with a thick highlighter of remembrance. That is the date my husband Josh and I received the phone call that every parent dreads – the kind you read about in someone else’s story and pray never crosses into your own.
But on August 5, 2025, it did.
Fear is many things at once: a glacial wash that starts on your head and drains to your immobilized feet, a taste in your mouth and a sound in your ears, and a fist that strangles your throat.
We were on top of a mountain in Idaho during a church staff retreat when the Life360 app on my phone — an app our family uses to share locations and receive crash or emergency notifications — suddenly and jarringly blared a warning, alerting me that our middle daughter, Adelaide, was involved in a critical incident.
I cannot explain the cold fear that washed over me in that moment. That kind of fear is many things at once: a glacial wash that starts on your head and drains to your immobilized feet, a taste in your mouth and a sound in your ears, and a fist that strangles your throat.
Many frantic minutes later, a deputy called us to let us know that our daughter was involved in a serious car accident and was not doing well. We continued to learn, as we scrambled off the mountain, that she was being life-flighted to the hospital…and that was all we knew.
For nearly two hours.
Fear does another thing: it slows time down to a minuscule crawl that leaves you weeping, screaming, and shaking your fist at the world as you drive at “safe” speeds to where your daughter lies in an unknown state without you.
I will spare the reader from those moments of agony: the prayers that dripped onto my lap, the pleading and begging, brokenness too intimate for anyone but my Father to understand.
I put on the full armor of God in a way I never understood before and will never misunderstand again.
One of the sweetest moments of my existence is the moment I first saw my daughter’s beautiful face as she lay on the emergency room’s gurney, smeared in blood but oh-so alive. Her voice asking if anyone else was hurt, her precious feet sticking out from the blanket, and her fingers curled in mine. The fifth of August will always hold that breathtaking image in my heart.
Adelaide sustained many traumatic injuries from her accident. For that entire first night in the ICU, I was bent over her in prayer, overwhelmed with both terror and joy, each one warring against the other and trying to take control. I battled in prayer for my girl that night, refusing to back down and contending with ferocity. I put on the full armor of God in a way I never understood before and will never misunderstand again.
I kept repeating the 8th and 9th verses of Isaiah 58, sometimes whispering them, sometimes sobbing them, but always experiencing them. There are promises in the Word that you no longer just read but experience; there is a knowing that changes your entire world.
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: ‘Here am I’ (NIV).
I called out to Jesus, and He didn’t have to run to answer because He was already there, holding not just me in His arms, but Addy as well.
As I called out to Him, He kept saying, “Here am I.” He continued repeating those words, never growing weary of saying them to me— it was His liturgy over me.
“Here am I.”
“Here am I.”
“Here am I.”
I could hear His love, see His protection, and feel His Presence.
The healing He provided was as stunning as the first break of dawn, filling my feeble world with light. Adelaide’s lacerated lungs were miraculously sealed the next morning. Doctors came into her ICU room and were stunned to see my sweet girl smiling back at them, her healing defying the accident she endured. Today, she wears her testimony on her leg in the form of a gnarly scar, and it is proof of the Lord’s providence and healing that she loves to share with others. He guarded Adelaide on every side, and His purpose went before her. The glory of the Lord was her rearguard, and for that, this momma will never stop praising Him.
Every August 5th and each day that He gives.
*To read more from Melissa and what God has taught her through this event, read her related article: Five Things I Didn’t Know I Needed to Learn About Prayer.
About the Author
Melissa Stelly serves as the executive pastor at Turning Point Church in Spokane, Washington, alongside her husband, Josh Stelly. She has attended Turning Point for thirty-four years. She is the mother of three daughters, adores camping, hiking, and adventuring, is a voracious reader, and considers Mt. Rainier one of the greatest accomplishments the Lord created. Most days in her free time you will find her curled up with a good book or taking a long walk.
