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UN TAPIZ FINAMENTE TEJIDO: La Biblia Abierta de Trinidad y Tobago celebra setenta años de ministerio
Las Iglesias Estándar de la Biblia Abierta de Trinidad y Tobago (OBSCTT, por sus siglas en inglés) conmemoran en 2024 su aniversario de platino: Setenta años de fe, fortaleza y comunidad. La historia de la Biblia Abierta de Trinidad y Tobago se desarrolla simbólicamente como un tapiz finamente tejido, en el que se mezclan diversos hilos y patrones vibrantes y complejos para formar una hermosa obra de arte. Durante siete décadas, Dios ha tejido la historia de OBSCTT, mezclando hábilmente elementos como los misioneros, el alcance innovador, la oración poderosa, un discipulado unificado, la acogida del avivamiento y el pueblo vibrante de Trinidad y Tobago. Cada hilo, aunque parezca insignificante, desempeña un papel distintivo que contribuye al magnífico tapiz de su trayectoria.
La República de Trinidad y Tobago, ubicada en el Mar Caribe Sur, cuenta con una rica diversidad cultural y religiosa que refleja influencias africanas, indias, europeas, chinas y de otros lugares. Allí se practican creencias cristianas, hindúes, musulmanas e indígenas. A pesar de la pequeña extensión geográfica de Trinidad y Tobago y de su población de tan sólo un millón cuatrocientos mil habitantes, la influencia de la Biblia Abierta ha dejado un impacto significativo tanto a nivel nacional como mundial, al contribuir a los ámbitos social, cívico y al de la asistencia médica de Trinidad y Tobago (un ejemplo fundamental es la fundación del Centro Médico Acrópolis). La OBSCTT cuenta con casi cien iglesias, numerosas guarderías, un colegio secundario privado, INSTE, y un instituto bíblico con tres sedes.
Desde sus inicios en 1956, bajo la dirección de los misioneros Kaare y Jean Wilhelmsen, la OBSCTT hizo hincapié en el alcance global. Las iglesias de Trinidad y Tobago, que comenzaron su labor en el país vecino de Granada en 1971, fueron expandiendo su alcance en forma contínua hasta llegar a plantar iglesias en Sudamérica, Norteamérica, África y Europa. Trinidad y Tobago es también la sede de la Escuela de Liderazgo Global (SGL) de Misiones Globales. Los fundadores de la OBSCTT estaban llenos de celo misionero e implantaron esta pasión en el ADN de las iglesias. Hoy en día, es una parte vital de su identidad.
Desde la familia Wilhelmsen, los primeros misioneros, hasta la actual familia Lumbard, treinta y ocho misioneros de la Biblia Abierta han servido en las islas. Estos misioneros fundaron una base sólida y equiparon a líderes locales competentes. Hoy en día, la relación entre los líderes locales con las Misiones Globales de la Biblia Abierta es una asociación de colaboración única. Esta colaboración y sentido de unidad fue parte de los cimientos establecidos por los misioneros desde el principio. El Dr. Don Bryan y su esposa Ruth fueron misioneros en la época en que se fundó La Biblia Abierta en Trinidad y Tobago (1956-1970). El Dr. Bryan habló de cómo la unidad fue clave para el éxito de la Biblia Abierta en Trinidad. A través de la oración, las iglesias y los misioneros trabajaron juntos como un equipo «para que el diablo no pudiera dividirnos».
La oración fue el valor unificador y cimentador de las iglesias. En especial, en la iglesia de San Fernando las reuniones de oración de los Movedores de Montañas de los jueves por la mañana hacían resonar las palabras de Hechos 19:11: «Dios hacía milagros extraordinarios…». (NVI). Los milagros fueron la norma, transformaron vidas al abrir los ojos de los ciegos y expulsar demonios. La poderosa proclamación del Evangelio y la evidente presencia de Dios llevaron a menudo a familias enteras a entregar sus vidas a Cristo, lo que trajo consigo un crecimiento explosivo. Setenta años después, los poderes de las tinieblas persisten, pero siguen siendo confrontados en los servicios de oración de muchas iglesias.
Los misioneros, reconociendo el valor que los trinitenses atribuían a la educación, vieron una oportunidad para el Reino y crearon en 1967 la Escuela Secundaria de la Biblia Abierta (OBHS, por sus siglas en inglés), que hacía hincapié en el desarrollo académico y espiritual de un alumnado de diversas religiones. Llegó un momento en que la matrícula de la OBHS era la mayor de la historia de las escuelas privadas de la isla.
El Seminario de la Biblia Abierta de Trinidad (OBIT, por sus siglas en inglés), fundado en 1956, sigue formando a líderes cristianos para ministerios pastorales, misioneros y de evangelización. El seminario incorpora una formación teológica y práctica única que constituye un motor para la evangelización y el discipulado. En sus inicios, los equipos de estudiantes se desplazaban cada jueves a las zonas periféricas para poner en práctica lo aprendido en la escuela bíblica. Allí celebraron reuniones al aire libre, se pusieron en contacto e instruyeron a los asistentes de los Movedores de Montañas, reunieron a otros e iniciaron escuelas dominicales, y bautizaron a nuevos creyentes. Su «práctica» del ministerio comenzó a dar a luz nuevas iglesias, ¡y cinco de las primeras seis iglesias de la OBSCTT fueron fundadas por los propios estudiantes mientras aún estaban en la escuela!
Al igual que hay muchos misioneros de la Biblia Abierta entretejidos en el tapiz de la OBSCTT, así Trinidad y Tobago está entretejida en los tapices de los propios misioneros, dejando una huella indeleble en sus vidas. No fue sólo la magnífica comida de las islas lo que les impresionó. Más importante aún, fueron las relaciones que entablaron allí las que dieron forma a los misioneros. Si bien muchos de los siguientes misioneros se han unido a la «gran nube de testigos», otros nos cuentan algunas de sus historias (haga clic en los enlaces para ver los vídeos de las entrevistas): Kaare y Jean Wilhelmsen, Minnie Bruns, Don y Ruth Bryan, A.E. y Ginny Mitchell, Margaret Crandall, Dora Turner, William y Donna Whitlow, Robert y Wanda Moon, Ed y Betty Wood, Weldon y Rosetta Davis, Melvin y Barbara Kelderman, Tom y Helen Clark, Clayton y Suzanne Crymes, Leona Janzen (Venditti), John y Nadine Simmons, Phil y Priscilla Newell, Dan y Mardell LeLaCheur, Harvey y Alys Klapstein, Grant y Miriam Sickles, y Mike y Pamela Lumbard.
La historia de la Biblia Abierta de Trinidad y Tobago se desarrolla simbólicamente como un tapiz finamente tejido, en el que se mezclan diversos hilos y patrones vibrantes y complejos para formar una hermosa obra de arte.
Los hilos más vibrantes y prominentes en el tapiz que Dios está tejiendo en las Iglesias de la Biblia Abierta de Trinidad y Tobago son los propios nacionales. El principio de 2 Timoteo 2:2 de encargar la obra a personas idóneas que la transmitirán a otros ha sido clave para el crecimiento y la expansión continuos. Son demasiados nombres para mencionarlos a todos, pero he aquí sólo algunos de los ministros locales que han dirigido con distinción a lo largo de los años: Reverendos Dr. Benjamín Agard, Charles y Charmaine Alexis, Keith Armoogan, Desmond Austin, Carlyle Chankersingh, Munroe Cox, Vicram Hajaree, Leroy Haynes, Dr. Andy y Ann Marie Homer, Benjamín Hunte, Calbert Mark, Romaish Mohan, Raule Reid, Cecil y Debbie Quamina, Errol Ramdass, Fitzroy Griffith, Jr. y Junior Yuille.
El Rev. Dr. Benjamín Agard, Anciano-director nacional de la OBSCTT, da merito a la predicación, desde los primeros días hasta ahora, del evangelio de Cristo y de este crucificado, como la clave del crecimiento numérico y espiritual a lo largo de la historia de la OBSCTT. El enfoque del mensaje de la cruz sigue siendo fundamental para su identidad. La ministra Ann Marie Homer lo resumió así: «El solo hecho de que usted pueda entrar en cualquier iglesia de la Biblia Abierta un domingo por la mañana y escuchar el verdadero evangelio de Jesucristo predicado, constituye un gran logro. No nos hemos desviado».
Setenta años después, en esta celebración de su jubileo de platino, nos unimos a las Iglesias Estándar de la Biblia Abierta de Trinidad y Tobago para mirar hacia atrás, al tapiz que Dios ha tejido a través de ellos y celebrar Su buena obra. Hoy, la historia de la OBSCTT no sólo llega a las islas de Trinidad y Tobago, sino que se extiende hasta los confines de la tierra. Como dice el Salmo 2:8: «Pídeme, y te daré por herencia las naciones, y como posesión tuya los confines de la tierra.» (RVR-60). Qué herencia tan increíble y qué legado tan rico: ¡sólo podemos imaginar lo que Dios hará a continuación!
Sobre la autora
Tammy Swailes
¡Tammy Swailes es una apasionada de la educación cristiana multicultural, por lo que trabajar con el Seminario Bíblico Global INSTE para discipular y equipar a los líderes en toda Europa y más allá encaja a la perfección! Tammy ha vivido en Europa desde 1999 (primero en Hungría y ahora en Ucrania). Antes de eso, vivió en Japón, así como en Spokane, Washington. En la actualidad se desempeña como directora regional de INSTE en Europa, colaborando con los programas de INSTE en cinco idiomas. Tammy tiene una licenciatura en Misiones y otra en Educación Cristiana, y una maestría en Estudios Interculturales. Algunas de las cosas que más le gustan a Tammy son la fotografía, el buen café, las experiencias multiculturales y el perrito Yorkie de la familia.
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.
“Babe, I think we need to steal Christmas.” I said this to my wife, Kelley, as we were driving back from a family celebration. Without any further explanation, she knew I meant that the atmosphere of our family gatherings had left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t that they were bad; in fact, they were fun and filled with love, but we both sensed that commercialism had taken over and God wanted more for us; He was highlighting these family gatherings as spaces where He wanted to be on display.
I continued processing with Kelley: “…On second thought, changing Christmas might be too much for our families to handle, but I think we could probably take over next year’s Thanksgiving celebration. If we start planting the seeds now, then in ten years no one will notice that little by little we’ve taken over planning the big gatherings—until Christmas is just handed to us!”
… it was in this moment that Thanksgiving was reborn for our family.
Kelley looked at me skeptically. Okay, so maybe my plan to steal Christmas was a little ambitious and made me sound like a Pixar villain, but it was in this moment that Thanksgiving was reborn for our family. We brainstormed, we got excited, and Kelley helped wrangle us under God’s wisdom. As we prayed, God showed us a whole new way to gather at the table.
First, the table needed to be extended, both literally and metaphorically. We wanted to combine both sides of our family under one roof (can you say high risk?). Everyone was welcome, and we made sure to personally invite those without family or community. Kelley and I are part of a ministry that focuses on underserved neighborhoods in Toledo, Ohio. There is no shortage of people here who need to be connected to God’s love and see His family in action on days that remind them of trauma, hardship, and pain (including holidays).
Second, old traditions had to die for new ones to be born. Bye-bye, TV trays and football games; hello, giant thankfulness tree. Transparently, it was at this point that I was a little concerned; we were taking on generations of tradition, and I still wasn’t sure how to put God on display like He wanted to be. That was when He showed us the big one: The Food. Goodbye, turkey, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole.
A new tradition was born. Instead of the traditional Thanksgiving meal, we picked a foreign culture and tried our hand at making their traditional dishes, desserts, and drinks. We adopted their games, played their music, and decorated our home with their colors. It was a huge risk, and it was a hit!
As we prayed, God showed us a whole new way to gather at the table.
After several years of these reinvented Thanksgivings, both our family and neighbors are fully on board. Each year, everyone at the table votes on the next cultural cuisine, and now, eight years in, Thanksgiving has become a highlight tradition. People dress up, experiment with exotic dishes, invite friends, and—most importantly—shower one another with love. Some years the gathering has grown so large we’ve even had to find a new venue.
Our “thankfulness tree,” built by Kelley, has become the centerpiece of the gathering. Each person writes down what they’re grateful for, shares it, and adds their leaf. And year after year we’ve saved them, creating a beautiful archive of gratitude. Neighbors without family have joined us too, finding a place to share thanks, receive prayer, and encounter God’s love through new traditions. Along the way, we’ve cooked some unforgettable meals, and one of my favorite moments has been watching people set aside hesitation to try something new when the familiar comforts aren’t on the table. That kind of openness has sparked amazing conversations about God, suffering, love, and family.
God has been on full display, His table extended, His traditions for us established, and His love something I am truly thankful for.
(Oh, and did we just so happen to host Christmas at our house last year? You betcha.)
About the Author
Corey Bern resides in the often overlooked rustbelt city of Toledo, Ohio, where he savors beautiful moments with his daughter, Liberty, and beautiful wife, Kelley. Corey serves as associate pastor of Washington Church as well as director of The Lewis House, an inner-city ministry that partners with Open Bible Churches. When he isn’t walking alongside others on their journey to the Father’s heart, he’s often hidden away in the world’s coolest under-the-stairs office with a good book—or helping Liberty baptize Barbies.
“Your father’s kidney is no longer functioning in your body, but twenty-one years is a good run. You need to start dialysis.”
That wasn’t the deal I had made with the Lord. When I received my kidney transplant from my dad, he was the perfect match. I was fourteen years old and had been sick for too long; I wanted to be a normal kid. I had been born with kidney disease, and doctors had no hope for me. They had transferred that hopelessness to my parents. My dad reminds me all the time how he questioned God: “Was it my sins or my wife’s sins that brought on this disease?”
God clearly answered him the way Jesus replied in John 9:3: “It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,” Jesus answered. “This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.” I found it interesting that the one who asked (my dad) was the one who gave. His gift of a kidney lasted twenty-one years, which was a miracle in itself. The average kidney transplant lasts twelve to fifteen years. While twenty-one years was a miracle, I wasn’t satisfied: my father’s kidney was supposed to last until God called me home. God was supposed to heal me.
On February 17, 2022, I sat in a dialysis chair for the first time in twenty-one years, overwhelmed by fear of what lay ahead. A doctor and social worker assured me their goal was to get me a new kidney quickly. Their confidence comforted me; I believed God had placed me in a facility where things would move smoothly and quickly.
After nine months of hearing nothing, a new social worker finally told me I was on the UCSF transplant list. I’ll never forget it—my husband said it was the best wedding anniversary gift. We were thrilled, believing we were one step closer to a new kidney. But on December 30, everything changed. The social worker told me I was not on the list after all and needed to call UCSF to check on my application status.
I wasn’t satisfied: my father’s kidney was supposed to last until God called me home. God was supposed to heal me.
What had felt like a glimmer of hope was gone in just a few weeks, and I was crushed. On January 3, 2023, I called UCSF, and the woman who answered was kind and encouraging, saying, “Let’s make sure we get you a kidney. You’re too young to be going through this.”
I met with doctors, nurses, and the transplant team over Zoom to assess if I was mentally and physically ready for a transplant. They informed me the wait for a kidney could be five to nine years, and when the meeting was over, I still had no assurance of a place on the transplant list. With that news, my strength started to wear thin, but I kept praying, trusting that somehow God would help me through whatever lay ahead.
In His strength, I returned to teaching with a smile, determined to make the most of the next five to nine years as I poured into my second graders and their future. As the worship pastor at Life Church in Concord, California, I encouraged others not to lose confidence in God, even when things felt out of control.
In June 2023, I attended the Open Bible National Convention in Texas on the very days I normally had dialysis. I went against medical advice, not realizing how much God had in store. The conference began on Tuesday, and I felt unusually tired and heavy-hearted. I wondered, “What if this is it? What if the deal I made with God was to keep going for the next five to nine years, and then He would take me home?”
That night, I shared those thoughts with my husband. I wasn’t giving up, I was simply accepting what I thought was God’s plan. I reminded him that despite all our prayers, my mom and his mom had both gone home to be with Jesus. I was learning that life is precious, but we don’t always get the answer we hope for. Still, I wasn’t defeated; I was fighting my way forward, bearing the bruises and scars of a warrior.
The next morning, a group of women prayed over me, asking God to release a miracle and heal me from needing dialysis. Their prayer stirred my spirit, though my body still felt weary. That night during worship as “Firm Foundation” played, tears streamed down my face. My spirit believed God wouldn’t fail, but my body felt the weight of exhaustion and the marks of treatment.
I heard God say clearly, … “I’m hitting the reset button. Get ready.”
After the service, I saw Tirsa, a missionary from Nicaragua who had visited our church when I was young. She knew my mom, and that connection meant everything. She prayed boldly for a miracle, that I would no longer need dialysis. I felt in my spirit that I needed to be prayed for by Angie Sissel, one of my spiritual mothers. As I waited for her, my eyes kept being drawn to the green circle in that year’s conference theme. I heard God say clearly, “I’m hitting the reset button.” I asked if He meant my kidneys, but He simply repeated, “I’m hitting the reset button. Get ready.”
When “Momma Angie” prayed over me, her husband, Pastor Derek Sissel, shared a word from the Lord. He looked me in the eyes and said, “God’s not done with you. There’s still fire inside you. Stop thinking He’s finished.” Tears ran down my face. He had no way of knowing what I’d said in private the night before, but God had heard me. I called my husband that night and told him everything.
Thursday brought a surprise. During our free time, my husband told me to answer the unknown number that had been calling because it might be the hospital. When I finally answered, it was the transplant team. They told me a kidney might be available the next day. I explained I was in Texas, but they said it was fine, I was second in line. If the person ahead of me wasn’t a match, the kidney would be mine.
All day, I kept my phone close. During the Convention’s evening reception, they called again, not to confirm the kidney yet, but to make sure I was still reachable. I stayed on edge, waiting.
Friday morning, we flew home. As soon as we landed and were driving home, the call came: “Mrs. Wolfe? The kidney is yours. Please be at the hospital by 4:30 p.m. for your final dialysis treatment, then head to UCSF.”
I jumped up and down in my seat, telling everyone in the van, “My kidney is on its way!” I called my husband, and he told his boss, “I need to go get my wife; she’s getting her kidney today!”
On June 17, 2023, I received my transplant—a gift I know came straight from the Lord. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to question the fact that it came from someone who had passed. I later learned it came from a young person. I know their family must have experienced immense pain, but I am deeply grateful. Because of their generosity, I have life again. I can teach, lead worship, and now preach.
After I returned home and began recovering, I received a letter from UCSF. It said I had been placed on the transplant list as of June 6, 2023, just ten days prior to the phone call that informed me I’d been given a kidney. Ten days. After losing nearly a year and a half of my life, God needed only ten days to give me a kidney. It reminded me—He’s not done with me. It was my mom’s time to go home and my mother-in-law’s too. But not mine.
Now, whenever an opportunity comes, I say yes. God gave me life—again—so He can fulfill His promises and purpose through me. If He isn’t done with my story, I know He’s not done with yours. Pray, lean in, surrender the outcome, and He will surprise you! He’s not done.
Mary Lou Wolfe is a worship pastor, preaching team lead, and second grade teacher at Life Church in Concord, California. She has been married to her husband, Chris, for twelve years and their goldendoodle, Brock, is almost two years old. She was born and raised in the Bay Area. Her dad, Ricardo, is from El Salvador and her mom, Jenny, was from Nicaragua. At the age of nine, Mary Lou and her parents moved to a Hispanic Church in Antioch, California. Templo Santo was her home church and sent her to Eugene Bible College, where she graduated in 2009. Since then, she has been in ministry, never losing her heritage and always having a heart for her people. She speaks, writes, and reads in Spanish. She is grateful that her parents taught her to hold tight to her heritage, never forgetting where she came from or where God is taking her.
