My mother’s stories are what brought me to God.
More than 40 years ago, she immigrated to the US from Guatemala. In Los Angeles, California, she met my father, who had also immigrated from Guatemala, and they got married.
I was born in the US—their first child. They wanted a better future for me, one that would keep me away from the sufferings of poverty and provide opportunities for a better life. Yet their faith in God was the best gift they ever gave me—especially my mother’s stories.
In our home, there was no doubt that God existed. My mother was a born-again Christian, and my father was Catholic by tradition, so they each expressed their faith differently. I loved listening to my mother tell me about how God was present in her life growing up in Guatemala, in her struggles as a young adult, and in the difficulties she faced when she migrated to the US. Throughout that process, she always prayed for God’s will over her life. She received a word from God before leaving home, reassuring her that she would face various difficulties while trying to cross the border, but she should not fear because he was with her.
“God kept his promise and kept me safe,” she told me. “He is why I’m here today.”
Her storytelling made God real and palpable, someone I could talk to.
When she first came to the US, she was a live-in housekeeper. She wanted to attend church, but in the 1970s, few Spanish-speaking churches existed in Southern California, and she couldn’t find one nearby. So she prayed, “God, lead me to a Spanish-speaking church.” In her prayer she asked for a sign—that she would see someone carrying a Bible on her way home and that person would help her find a church.
And God answered. She met a young lady at the bus stop carrying a Bible. She gave my mother all the information she needed to attend her church. “The funny thing is,” my mother said, “I never saw that young lady again.”
Stories like this remind me why I said “yes” to God’s call. Why wouldn’t I say “yes” to my mother’s God? He has a purpose for my life. He loves and cares for me. He wants what’s best for me. He has been with me all my life.
Now I have introduced my daughters to the same God, sharing my life stories and those of their grandmother and their ancestors. They are living testimonies of a God who is present in all generations.
Our ancestors before us provided a pathway to the living God through their storytelling. The prophet Joel said, “Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation (Joel 1:3).”
These stories are the generational heartbeat of our faith, thriving, living, and giving life each time we tell them. They build God’s kingdom and restore the hearts of those longing for their creator. It is so for the Israelites and the church, and it is so for my family of Latin descent.
Commentary
El latido generacional del corazón / The Generational Heartbeat
Carla Cortez and her mother
In honor of Latino Heritage Month, Carla Cortez shares the legacy of faith she found in her mother’s stories.
Click Here for English >>
Las historias de mi madre son las que un día me acercaron a Dios.
Hace más de 40 años, ella emigró desde Guatemala a los Estados Unidos. Más tarde, conoció mi padre en Los Ángeles, California, quién también había inmigrado de Guatemala, y se casaron.
Nací en los EE. UU., soy su hija mayor. Mis padres querían un futuro mejor para mí, uno que me mantuviera alejada de los sufrimientos de la pobreza y que me brindara oportunidades para una vida mejor. Sin embargo, su fe en Dios fue el mejor regalo que me han dado mis padres, especialmente los testimonios de las experiencias fe de mi madre.
En nuestra familia no había duda de la existencia de Dios. Mi madre era cristiana evangélica y mi padre era católico por tradición, por lo cual cada uno expresaba su fe de manera diferente. Me encantaba escuchar a mi madre contar cómo Dios estuvo presente en su vida cuando era niña en Guatemala, en sus luchas cuando era joven y en las dificultades que enfrentó cuando emigró a los Estados Unidos. Durante todo ese proceso, ella siempre oró por la voluntad de Dios en su vida. Recibió una palabra de Dios antes de salir de casa, advirtiéndole que enfrentaría varias dificultades al intentar cruzar la frontera, pero que no debía temer porque él estaría con ella.
“Dios cumplió su promesa y me mantuvo a salvo”, decía mi madre. “Él es la razón por la cual hoy estoy aquí”.
Escuchar los testimonios de fe de mi madre hizo que Dios fuera real y palpable en mi vida, alguien con quien yo podía hablar.
Cuando mi madre llegó por primera vez a los EE. UU. trabajó como ama de llaves interna. Quería asistir a la iglesia, pero en la década de 1970 existían pocas iglesias de habla hispana en el sur de California y no encontró ninguna cerca. Entonces le pidió a Dios en oración: “Señor, llévame a una iglesia de habla hispana”. En su oración pidió una señal: que camino a casa se encontrara con alguien que llevara una Biblia en mano y que esa persona la ayudara a encontrar una iglesia.
Y Dios respondió. En la parada del autobús se encontró con una joven que llevaba una Biblia y esa joven le dio a mi madre toda la información que necesitaba para encontrar a una iglesia. “Lo curioso es”, dijo mi madre, “que nunca volví a ver a esa joven”.
Historias como esta me recuerdan porqué dije “sí” al llamado de Dios. ¿Por qué no le diría “sí” al Dios de mi madre? Él tiene un propósito para mi vida. Él me ama y me cuida. Él quiere lo mejor para mí y ha estado conmigo toda mi vida.
Ahora he presentado a mis hijas al mismo Dios, compartiendo mis historias de vida y las de su abuela y sus antepasados. Son testimonios vivos de un Dios presente en todas las generaciones.
Nuestros antepasados proporcionaron un camino hacia el Dios vivo a través de sus historias. El profeta Joel dijo: “Cuenten esto a sus hijos, y que ellos se lo cuenten a los suyos, y estos a la siguiente generación (Joel 1:3)”.
Estas historias son el latido generacional del corazón de nuestra fe, floreciendo, viviendo y dando vida cada vez que las contamos. Nos ayudan a construir el reino de Dios y restauran los corazones de aquellos que anhelan conocer más a su Creador. Lo fue así para los israelitas y para la iglesia primitiva, y lo es hoy para mi familia de ascendencia latina.
My mother’s stories are what brought me to God.
More than 40 years ago, she immigrated to the US from Guatemala. In Los Angeles, California, she met my father, who had also immigrated from Guatemala, and they got married.
I was born in the US—their first child. They wanted a better future for me, one that would keep me away from the sufferings of poverty and provide opportunities for a better life. Yet their faith in God was the best gift they ever gave me—especially my mother’s stories.
In our home, there was no doubt that God existed. My mother was a born-again Christian, and my father was Catholic by tradition, so they each expressed their faith differently. I loved listening to my mother tell me about how God was present in her life growing up in Guatemala, in her struggles as a young adult, and in the difficulties she faced when she migrated to the US. Throughout that process, she always prayed for God’s will over her life. She received a word from God before leaving home, reassuring her that she would face various difficulties while trying to cross the border, but she should not fear because he was with her.
“God kept his promise and kept me safe,” she told me. “He is why I’m here today.”
Her storytelling made God real and palpable, someone I could talk to.
When she first came to the US, she was a live-in housekeeper. She wanted to attend church, but in the 1970s, few Spanish-speaking churches existed in Southern California, and she couldn’t find one nearby. So she prayed, “God, lead me to a Spanish-speaking church.” In her prayer she asked for a sign—that she would see someone carrying a Bible on her way home and that person would help her find a church.
And God answered. She met a young lady at the bus stop carrying a Bible. She gave my mother all the information she needed to attend her church. “The funny thing is,” my mother said, “I never saw that young lady again.”
Stories like this remind me why I said “yes” to God’s call. Why wouldn’t I say “yes” to my mother’s God? He has a purpose for my life. He loves and cares for me. He wants what’s best for me. He has been with me all my life.
Now I have introduced my daughters to the same God, sharing my life stories and those of their grandmother and their ancestors. They are living testimonies of a God who is present in all generations.
Our ancestors before us provided a pathway to the living God through their storytelling. The prophet Joel said, “Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation (Joel 1:3).”
These stories are the generational heartbeat of our faith, thriving, living, and giving life each time we tell them. They build God’s kingdom and restore the hearts of those longing for their creator. It is so for the Israelites and the church, and it is so for my family of Latin descent.
Carla Cortez
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