Efraín couldn't sleep well that night. The phrase on the envelope kept repeating in his
mind.like a persistent echo: "When the faith of many fades, I ignite one."
The idea troubled him and, at the same time, ignited something akin to hope within
him.But what did it mean? And why had someone left it on her doorstep without
any explanation?
He tried to reason with him. Perhaps Pastor Samuel wanted to encourage him. But the
handwriting wasn't the pastor's.Besides, Samuel would never do anything so
mysterious; his style was more direct, more pastoral. A friend? Someone he had
advised? I didn't know.Finally, exhausted, he fell asleep shortly before dawn. And although he dreamed,He
couldn't remember anything when he opened his eyes. He only retained one
feeling: that he had to go to the hill as soon as possible.
He left early and walked uphill towards the temple. The sky was clear, a stark
contrast to the previous day. It was as if the light had returned after a long
absence.
As he climbed, he remembered the pastor's words: "Sometimes God wakes up
early tothose he wants to use."
Could it be that God was really calling him? The idea
thrilled him, but it also filled him with fear.
What if it wasn't strong enough?
What if I disappointed everyone?
What if he mistook his own thoughts for the voice of God?
She shook her head. She didn't want to indulge in fantasies. She just wanted to obey,
if that was the only way.There was indeed something to obey.
When he arrived, he found the temple empty. The wind was barely pushing open the
main door.producing a soft sound.
He entered. The silence of the place had always seemed sacred to him, like a pause
thatGod himself had placed between the noise of the world and the peace of
heaven.
He knelt on the first pew.
"Sir," he whispered, "I don't understand anything, but... I'm willing. Just show me
what."
I must do.
While he was praying, he suddenly felt that he was not
alone.He opened his eyes.
Someone was standing at the end of the
corridor.A small, motionless figure.
For a moment, Ephraim's heart raced. The dim light made it difficult to see.who was
But then he heard a familiar little voice.
—Efraín?It
was
Luciana.He let out a sigh of relief.
—Lucy… you scared me a little. What are you doing here so early?
The girl walked towards him with her notebook in her hand.
"I had a strange dream," she said, her large eyes sparkling. "And I thought I had to
come and tell the pastor. But he's not here."
"What did you dream about?" Efraín asked, trying to sound
calm. Lucy opened her notebook and showed him a new
drawing.
On the page there was a figure standing at the top of the hill, with its arms
outstretched,surrounded by a golden glow. Around her, shadows in the lower part
seemed to fade away.
Efraín felt a chill.
"Who is this?" she asked, though she dreaded the
answer. The girl jumped slightly, as if it were obvious.
—It's you.
Efraín felt his throat close up.
—How do you know that?
"I don't know," Lucy replied matter-of-factly. "In the dream, God said the light
would start from the top of the hill. And when I woke up, I knew I had to draw
this."
Efraín drinksaliva.
I didn't know if it was a coincidence, a child's imagination, or a real sign. But
the drawing, the pastor's words, the envelope on his door... it all seemed to be
part of something.
Lucy put away her notebook.
"Do you think God still speaks to people?" he suddenly asked. Efraín
smiled sadly.
—I think so. Although sometimes we don't understand how.
The girl looked at him with unexpected maturity.
—Then, when He tells you what to do, don't be afraid.
And she left, walking towards the door, leaving Efraín with goosebumps.Later, Pastor Samuel arrived. He was carrying several books under his arm, and on
his face...same concern as the previous day.
—Efraín—she greeted him—, I need to talk to you. Something urgent.
They sat down in the pastor's office.
Did something happen?
Samuel looked at him with a mixture of weariness and hope.
—Yes. I had a call last night. There are families considering leaving thecommunity.
They say they feel disconnected, that they no longer see a purpose.
Efraín felt a prick in his chest.
—So what can we do?
"I don't know," Samuel admitted. "But I've been praying, and I feel we need to…"
Someone who can help restore faith. Someone who can connect, listen, encourage…
He paused.
—Someone like you.
Efraín opened his eyes, surprised.
—Pastor… I don't know if I'm the right person.
—God doesn't usually choose the most prepared, son. He chooses the most willing.
Efraín looked away, struggling internally.Samuel
continued:
—I know you've been going through a difficult time. But that's precisely why I
believe God can use you. Faith that is tested is faith that grows. And people need to
see thatGod still transforms lives.
Efraín felt something ignite inside him.But his
fear was also growing.
"Pastor, I... received something yesterday," he finally
said.Samuel looked at him curiously.
—What did you receive?
Efraín told her about the mysterious envelope, the phrase, and the drawing that Lucy
had made thatsame morning.
To his surprise, the pastor did not react with skepticism. On the contrary, he
seemedreflect deeply.
"God works in ways we sometimes don't understand," Samuel said. "And these
signs…"
Efraín… I think you shouldn't ignore them.That afternoon, when he was already returning home, Efraín decided to climb to the
highest partHigh on the hill, a place that hardly anyone visited. From there you
could see the whole village, the small houses, the quiet streets, and the temple
like a white dot at the foot of the hillside.
The wind was blowing hard, moving her clothes and messing up her
hair.He closed his eyes.
"God," he said aloud, "if this comes from You, if I truly have a calling..."
Show it to me. Just give me clarity. I'm willing, but I don't want to get confused.
Suddenly, the wind changed direction and blew harder, raising dust.Efraín opened his
eyes, startled.
There was
nobody. There
were no voices.
But on the ground in front of him, there was something that
hadn't been there before.A small white piece of paper.
He bent down slowly and took it.
It was half a page, folded down. She opened it with trembling hands.
This message was different from the
first one.Shorter.
More precise.
"The first light will be born in you."
Efraín felt like his legs could barely support him.
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to maintain control.
I didn't know who was leaving the
messages.I didn't know how God
would respond.
I didn't know what that phrase meant.
But deep in his soul, he knew it with absolute certainty:His
life was changing.
And there was no going back