Long after the 5 p.m. Friday whistle blows for most folks, Pastor Carlos Lemus is heading into work.
Pushing a shopping cart.
“Wal-Mart is my second office,” joked Lemus, Hispanic missionary for Autauga and Chilton Baptist associations. “I get a lot more done here than shopping.
“This is the only way to reach some of them. The Hispanic population is suspicious, afraid someone from immigration is going to come after them. Knocking on doors to witness just doesn’t work. You have to meet them where they are and earn their trust.”
And where they are is Wal-Mart.
Before he makes it in the door, Lemus greets a Hispanic man sitting on a bench outside with his bags. “¿Estas esperando?” — or “Are you waiting?” — Lemus asks him.
He nods and Lemus strikes up an easy conversation. Eventually he offers the man some information about one of the churches he serves as pastor, Primera Iglesia Hispana del Condado de Chilton (First Hispanic Baptist Church of Chilton County), Clanton.
Then Lemus says “buenas noches” to his new friend and heads inside.
“In our culture, where we’re from, you greet people whether you know them or not,” said Lemus, who came to Alabama from Guatemala about five years ago. “But when Hispanics come here to America, they change. They are suspicious. The first time I talk to them, they don’t say much. The second time, I’m not just some guy — they recognize me. The third time, they smile because they know me. I have to let them know I’m not scary.”
Just inside the door, a family breaks into smiles when it sees him. He greets them, laughing. Lemus catches up with them, asking how they are doing. How are the children? Yes, the wife is still trying to win her husband to Christ and he’s coming around slowly.
“We (my family) met this family in Wal-Mart awhile back and have been able to help them with a lot of things and get to know them,” Lemus explained later. “Some of the people that we met five years ago in the store are just starting to come to church now. It’s a long-term process.”
A second family walks up and chats for a while.
“I see everyone here,” he said, noting that this family belongs to his church. “I see my flock; I meet new people. I can get more work done here than in my real office sometimes. I don’t necessarily plan these trips, but every time we’re here to shop, we make it an opportunity.”
And shopping clearly takes a back seat. Twenty-five minutes in, Lemus’ shopping cart is still empty. He laughs and shrugs. “What can I say? Trips to Wal-Mart take a long time.”
But they’re worth it — to him and to his wife, Zuly, and 9-year-old daughter, Anna, who appear on the scene with a few things they’ve already picked out. The three wind their way through the store and through their shopping list — Drano, Pop-Tarts, orange juice and so on. It’s typical but their purpose is higher.
They pick the aisles they see Hispanics shopping on and create opportunities to strike up conversations. It’s a team effort. And every soul is so important that they pass no one without speaking.
“¿Me recuerdas?” — “Do you remember me?” — Zuly Lemus says to a girl about Anna’s age. The girl nods timidly. Zuly Lemus had her in Vacation Bible School. She talks casually with the parents, but the conversation doesn’t last long.
“They are Catholic,” she said. “It’s like a wall they use when they don’t want to hear any more, and it’s tough to break through that wall.”
She agrees with her husband — give it time and prayer.
“You never know what will come of these meetings in time,” Carlos Lemus said. “This is where the people are, and we’ve seen God work through this. So we just keep doing it.”
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