Jesus also speaks my language

The Eastern Apurímac Quechua Bible celebration in Peru

Thin slices of tripe nestle coyly between potatoes and chunks of freshly-butchered beef in the clear broth. It’s 8 a.m. and the Eastern Apurímac Quechua Bible dedication is beginning with steaming bowls of soup and coarse bread. Every celebration needs food—and this one has been a long time coming. 

Women clad in cardigans and thick skirts bustle around the outdoor kitchen, stoking the fire and making sure every visitor is served. It’s the rooftop of a church in Chuquibambilla, a town in Peru’s Apurímac province. At 3,320 metres, the town sits high enough for foreign visitors to feel the altitude. But the small groups clustered under the rooftop tarpaulin have come from communities perched even higher on the surrounding mountainsides. Many are subsistence farmers, eking out a living from the fragile soil. Most don’t have the luxury of a mule, let alone a car—so they’ve made the long trek to Chuquibambilla on foot. 

Two decades in the making

The mealtime calm gives way to a flurry of activity as people rush to change into their best clothes. They funnel into the church hall one floor below, arranging themselves in community groups easily identifiable by their co-ordinated outfits. Anticipation hums in the air. One woman hastily glues the last brightly coloured ribbons to her skirt as her children look on. 

The sudden bustle belies just how long they’ve waited for this day. Though translation work was completed by AIDIA—Wycliffe’s Bible translation partner in Peru—in 2021, printing delays added four long years to the timeline. Altogether, it has taken two decades to reach this dedication day. The journey began in 2004 with a language survey—an assessment of how a language is used, who speaks it and whether a Bible translation is needed. 

Pastor Luis’ path

Pastor Luis Cervantes, now the director of AIDIA, was part of that original survey team. “I had no idea that this [survey] was going to end in this,” he says, tears streaming down his face. “I am very emotional seeing the Word of God after 20 years.” It’s a gift to his people, and confirmation that God speaks Luis’ heart language: Eastern Apurímac Quechua.

Luis worked as a translator on the New Testament, then took over leadership of AIDIA when work on the Old Testament began. It’s been a long and grueling road—but that’s not where his focus is right now. Today is about celebration. 

Together with local church leader Erwin Palomino, Luis walks to the front of the church. 

“Welcome, brothers and sisters . . . ” 

And so the dedication begins. 

“Now we can read the Bible and get it into our hearts” 

Quechua culture tends to be reserved—quiet and dignified. Celebration at the arrival of God’s Word doesn’t take the form of exuberant dancing or loud shouts. Instead, it’s expressed through deep emotion and reverent singing. 

One hundred and fifty voices pierce the still mountain air with soul-stirring, high-pitched melodies. Many clasp Quechua hymn books that proclaim: “Jesus also speaks my language. Christ, God, speaks my language.” 

Each church group is invited to share a song or a message with the gathering. One pastor, beaming, stands to speak: “The church in our community is growing!” Gesturing toward his group, he adds, “It’s bigger than just us—there are only a few of us here today because we had no car.”

Receiving God’s Word

Pastor Luis then invites leaders from each local congregation to stand before the pulpit. Visiting pastors from Canada, Colombia and Japan gather around them, lifting their Peruvian brothers and sisters in prayer. These Quechua believers carry the weight of leadership—but now, they have God’s full counsel to share with their congregations. 

AIDIA staff place a copy of the Quechua Bible into each pastor’s hands. It’s a heavy, beautiful book: bound in black, edged in red and wrapped in protective plastic. 

“Now we can read the Bible and get it into our hearts!” announces Erwin, as he leads the gathering in prayer. 

The service concludes. Community members flock to the back of the church to purchase their own copies of the Bible. People line up for the single bathroom; some change back into their everyday clothes. Rain begins to spatter the windows as everyone climbs to the rooftop once more. 

The journey continues  

The celebration ends with lunch, a fitting bookend to the morning. This time, it’s hearty portions of potatoes, pasta and the remainder of the cow that was butchered earlier. People pass around communal bowls of choclo, giant Peruvian corn, before making the trip back to their own communities and homes. 

It’s the end of a journey. But in another sense, it’s just the beginning. God speaks Eastern Apurímac Quechua, and where His Word goes, transformation follows.