From the Jungles to the Cathedrals: The Captivating Story of Juan Carlos Ortiz

PROLOGUE (OR WARNING)

This book does not need a prologue, although it does need a warning. Juan Carlos Ortiz has always enjoyed surprising, unsettling and shaking up his audience, and that is what you, the readers of this book, are about to experience.

A man before his times, the best preacher of his generation, daring, sincere, revolutionary, pastor of pastors and a true prophet; these are some of the descriptions that I have heard over the years with reference to Juan Carlos Ortiz.

Without a doubt Juan Carlos is a person that God raised up to speak to his people with a fresh and definitive anointing and with a message that is in tune with the interests of Christ. His story has been the exciting adventure of someone who surrenders all to follow Jesus and suffers the consequences of that sacrifice with the joy of one who understands that there is a high price for this crown. No one who reads this book will ever be the same again, for no one who has ever known Juan Carlos and his wife Martha has been the same after knowing them.

A few years ago I had the privilege of working at his side and I was able to see with my own eyes the back-stage of his passion. I learned the following: They talk about extending the Kingdom of God every day of their lives. Evangelization is not only a subject for discussion in the church, but rather its strongest commitment, an objective that has taken them from the jungles to the cathedrals to share the good news of the gospel with everyone possible. In that adventure they have founded more than a dozen congregations in different countries, they have seen thousands of people spiritually reborn, and they have challenged the church on various continents to live a vital and vibrant Christian life.

I consider it a valuable contribution to the entire church and especially to the leaders of a new generation that they share with us the testimony of their lives. For that reason Editorial Vida is publishing this book with high expectations and gratitude. These pages are full of lessons and, above all, honesty that today’s leaders do not have the luxury of ignoring. At a time when we urgently need to know of contemporary heroes who bear witness that the power of the gospel can be experienced today, Juan Carlos and Martha Ortiz tell us the story of what God’s powerful hand can do with persons fully surrendered to the divine plan.

Lucas Leys

CHAPTER 1

Salvation has come to this house

Hilario was a railroad engineer and earned a good salary. He lived in a very nice house provided by the British railroad company, along with his wife Concepción, whom he affectionately called Doña Mema, and their four children. Eight years after the birth of her youngest son, Doña Mema was expecting a fifth child: myself. Obviously my arrival was a surprise to them, but not to God.

The family had all the potential needed to be very happy, but my father was an alcoholic. The greater part of his salary was spent on his addiction. Most of the time he did not come home for one or two weeks at a time. When he had spent his last penny, he would return. Mother, whom he mistreated, also worked in the home as a seamstress in order to take care of her four children. When she became pregnant with a fifth child she could not take it anymore. She became so depressed that she thought about leaving with her four children, and even considered suicide. At home there was never enough food or clothing. She believed there was no future, neither for her children nor for herself. It no longer made any sense to continue living this way.

One hot summer day, while sewing at her machine, the doorbell rang. At the door were two young ladies with flyers in their hands. They brought the message of salvation to our home. Grace Strachan and Beatriz Miles, two missionaries associated with the Brethren Church, in conjunction with the Bible Union, had come to Argentina from Invercargill, New Zealand to evangelize.

Argentina is a traditionally Catholic country, and in those days the evangelicals represented only about two per cent of the country’s population. My mother was exhausted and had no time to spare, so she told the young ladies that she was too busy to listen to them. Then she added that she was Catholic and had no intention of changing her religion.

THIRD TIME IS THE WINNER

One week later, the missionaries returned and, for the second time my mother shut them out. Evidently, the young ladies were determined to accomplish their mission and insisted, returning a third time. This time, it was a very hot day and the temperature had reached 38 degrees Centigrade (100 degrees Fahrenheit). When she saw them, my mother felt a little bit guilty and let them in. She offered them a drink of cool water and, in a few words, explained why she did not have time to visit with them. She said: As you can see, I am sewing on this machine from morning to night to feed my children. There is no day off for me. My husband is an alcoholic and I am very depressed. My life could have been much better, but it has become a constant agony. I see no light at the end of the tunnel, no future, no education for my children. I don’t want to live any longer.

Grace responded with true insight: That is why God sent us here today. Jesus said: ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’ Jesus is the answer to your situation. They prayed for my mother who then and there received Christ into her life. Her conversion was radical. God gave her a new heart. She immediately received the joy of salvation and began to see life with new eyes. At that instant a great change came about in her life and in our home. She began to attend the church, which was only a few blocks from our home. She learned the hymns and the choruses, and sang them while she sewed. Hope had filled her heart.

From that day forward, Jesus became the Lord of our home. She believed and obeyed everything she learned at church. The two ladies, Grace and Betty, visited her regularly to disciple her. It makes perfect sense that our home became a family of missionaries!

While my mother was pregnant with me, she was baptized. So I have been baptized twice! Everyone in the family attended Sunday School and no one ever missed those classes. Her five children all became preachers and we became a home full of hospitality for the missionaries. My father also received Christ, but was unable to give up his addiction to whiskey and other alcoholic beverages. He actually received Christ many times and was even baptized, but he was never free from his addiction.

A few days after her conversion, my mother had a dream. She saw a man dressed in a tuxedo who was taking her to a large shopping center and into a supermarket and a department store. The man introduced her to the owner of each business and said to them: I married this woman; satisfy all her needs. Mother believed that the man was Jesus Christ and that all of her needs would be met. Truthfully, we did experience miracles. She was able to satisfy all our needs and to educate all of us. As a mother she gave a lot of love to her five children: Rosalía, Rubén, Elsa, Horacio, and myself. She sacrificed her life to feed us and to educate us. Although she worked long hours as a seamstress, starting very early in the morning and working until very late at night, from the time she met the Lord she would sing all day. She took very seriously her responsibility to follow Christ.

Before I continue I would like to honor the faithfulness and the consistency of these two wonderful missionaries from the Brethren Church who, despite having been turned away by my mother, returned to her house over and over again. Because of their insistence, my mother and my siblings became communicators of the Good News of salvation, and thousands of people came to the Lord. We should never give up so quickly when unbelievers reject us.

A BIRTH WITH A PURPOSE

On July 8, 1934, I opened my eyes to the world for the first time. At birth I found myself in a home under the lordship of Christ, living by his grace and surrounded by love. My mother and my four brothers and sisters were amazed, since it had never occurred to them that a fifth child might come into the home. My family had no idea that I would later end up teaching, discipling and spreading the Good News of Jesus in more than sixty-five countries around the world.

One day, while still a baby, I became very sick and my mother asked my father to find a doctor (in those days, physicians made home visits). My father went to find a doctor, but he had a little money with him, and after meeting some friends on the way he did not return. He returned five years later!

Another day, while playing soccer with some friends in a nearby field, we noticed a well-dressed gentleman walking near the place where we were playing. He was wearing a light blue suit, a tie, a white hat and a gold chain with a pocket watch. We stopped playing to look at this elegant man so well dressed. A few minutes later, my mother called me to come home. When I did, I saw the same man seated in our patio. I was very impressed. My mother said: Juan Carlos, this is your father. That was the first time I had ever seen him. He opened his billfold and gave me a five-dollar bill. Later my mother told me that when he arrived, the first thing he asked was what had happened to the baby who was sick.

My father did not live with us, but he did visit our house once in a while and, because he called himself a Christian, he would go with us to church. However, he always made our family very embarrassed because he would arrive drunk. On one occasion, there was an evangelistic crusade in a tent and he came with us. The preacher that night was an English gentleman named Mr. Pender, executive director of an important company. In his sermon, Mr. Pender used an illustration about a crystal ball used by fortune-tellers. My father, who was inebriated, interrupted the middle of the sermon, saying: Could you please explain again about the crystal ball? The preacher responded that he would explain after the service. At this, my father responded: You don’t know how to preach; my wife can preach better than you. He looked at my mother and said: Mema, go to the pulpit and preach. You do much better than he … This was how my father was when he was drunk.

On the very day that my sister Rosalía was married we received word that an uncle had died. So we had a funeral and a wedding at the same time. The two events took place in close proximity to each other, so that my father, who had already drank quite a lot, went from the funeral to the wedding. At the funeral he requested applause for my sister, and at the wedding he requested a moment of silence in honor of my dead uncle.

Those were some of the things my father did whenever he was inebriated and that caused us so much shame. However, the family also remembers that when he was sober he was a very pleasant person who enjoyed cooking for us. My mother taught us to respect him regardless of whatever he might do. We always had a room and a bed ready for whenever he arrived.

DIFFERENT AMONG MANY

The first time I thought I might be a preacher some day was when I was about five years old. An English minister was visiting our church and following the service, while I was running with some other children, he stopped me and looked me directly in the eyes and asked my name. Juan Carlos Ortiz, I responded. Then the preacher said to me, When you grow up, you will be a preacher. Those words were always in my mind and encouraged me to become one. For that reason, I always take time to stop and speak with the children and say something nice to them just as Jesus did: Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.

The Lord evidently had a good plan for my life and took care of me. One day I was playing in front of our house when a caravan of gypsies passed by. Soon my family noticed that I was not there and in desperation they began running through the neighborhood trying to find me. A stranger passing by told them that he had just seen a group of gypsies with a small blond child. My family knew exactly where they were camping, and they ran as quickly as they could to the gypsy tents. There I was, among those people.

When I began first grade at the elementary school I was six years old. Before leaving me in the patio of the school my mother said to me: Remember that you are a child of God. You are different. For that reason, you will be mocked and persecuted. Until now we have protected you from the world; all your friends are believers. But now you are entering the world. The children of the world deceive, say bad words, and get into fights. You will not do those things because you belong to the Kingdom of God. You will not say bad words or do bad things, and for that reason you will be persecuted. If they don’t treat you that way, it’s because you are one of them. I entered the school expecting to be persecuted. If that had not happened I would have felt frustrated. My mother had made it very clear to me that the children of God do not belong to this world; therefore, we should not do those things.

The wonderful influence of my mother was such that she gave me a beautiful pocket Bible with a black leather binding and gilded edges that said: I want this to be the first book that you read when you start to read. I was so fascinated that I kept it in the pocket of my jacket and read it during recess. The children of that school gave me the nickname Pius the Twelfth, which was the Pope’s name at the time. Once a week, a Catholic preacher gave us catechism classes. And although they were required, my mother asked that I be excused from those classes. Even though they did so, this provoked a certain amount of persecution, even from the teacher. I was the only Protestant Christian in the whole school. Every time that my homework was not properly done, my teacher would say in front of the whole class: Instead of reading ‘that book,’ pay more attention to your homework.

I complained to my mother about this and her answer was: Did they spit in your face? No, I answered. Did they place a crown of thorns on your head? No, I said. Did they nail you to a cross? No! Then, what is your problem?

My mother added that the Lord had suffered on the cross for me and that I should never be ashamed of Him.

Even though we were poor and I was still growing up, my four siblings had already started to work, so they spoiled me with all kinds of toys and the best clothes they could buy. Of all our family I was the one who suffered least from the bad behavior of our father, having been less exposed to it. Perhaps for that reason the consequences of having an alcoholic father were less painful for myself.

Shortly after a visit from my father, when I was barely six years old, he disappeared again. When he returned gravely ill from cirrhosis I was sixteen. We all took care of him, giving him a testimony of the grace of God. And on that occasion, at 55 years of age and just before dying, he had a profound experience with Jesus Christ.

After we were all adults, my mother stopped working and dedicated the rest of her life to serving the Lord. She cooked for pastors’ conferences, counseled the young people, and helped those in need. She worked in a variety of activities, even sometimes acting as a midwife and washing diapers; she helped the new mothers in their homes when their babies were born and visited the sick. After our father died, she received a generous pension and other benefits that she always used to help those less fortunate. Our house became a place full of hospitality for the seminary students and young missionaries.

FOR REFLECTION: Perhaps I came as a surprise for my family, but not for God. Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations (Jeremiah 1:5).

CHAPTER 2

The church of my early years

Following the First and Second World Wars, a tidal wave of Italian immigrants arrived in Argentina. They were all Roman Catholics. At that time there were very few Protestant churches and most of them were quite small.

Brother Francescone received Christ in the city of Chicago, in the United States, and then traveled to Brazil and to Argentina to visit his parents in order to introduce them to the Pentecostal Gospel of Salvation. His first converts were Ángel and Pablo Mingrino, who lived in the neighborhood of Villa Devoto, Buenos Aires. They were the pastors of a church that became the First Pentecostal Church of Argentina in 1914. Next came Brother Petrelli, a Bible teacher from New Jersey, in the United States, who added his teaching to the group.

It is true that my mother received Christ through the missionaries mentioned earlier, and was baptized and attended a church of the Free Brethren (often called Plymouth Brethren). When she was searching for a less expensive apartment to rent, she found one in an Italian neighborhood. As it turned out, the owner of the apartment was the pastor of a small Italian evangelical church that had separated from a larger one. My mother knew nothing about denominations, so she visited that church, liked it, and that is how we all became Pentecostals. However, we never cut our ties to the church