El Shorty

03/20/2026 (Rick):

Back to Oaxaca: When God Turns the Volume Down

It has certainly been a while since I've had the time to sit and write. Between house hunting, caregiving, parenting, being a husband, working, military service, and a mission trip to Mexico — I have been on the go. I hope this post finds you well, and I hope you can see through our story just how faithfully God works, even when we can't always see it in the moment.

The Trip

In late November and early December, our short-term mission trip finally came to life. We flew a red-eye out of CBX in Tijuana to Oaxaca on a Saturday night, arriving Sunday morning, and immediately hit the ground running — starting, of course, with some of the best coffee in the world and fresh pan dulce. While we were in the shop, a few of the brothers took a moment to minister over our server. The atmosphere in that little coffee shop was something I won't forget.

Over the next several days, we visited multiple rehabilitation centers and prisons throughout the state of Oaxaca. We partnered with a ministry called The Jesus House, an organization we have worked alongside for several years across multiple short-term trips. Their relationships, their access, and their heart for the incarcerated made all the difference.

Going Back

On the second-to-last day of our trip, we returned to a prison in Miahuatlán. I say returned because this is where prison ministry began for me, nearly four years ago. On a previous mission trip with my family, I was given the opportunity to enter that prison — and it was there that God placed it firmly on my heart that I was called to minister behind bars.

Fast forward three and a half years. I was finally back — with a bigger team, a greater sense of purpose, and the prayers and support of friends and family behind us. When we entered the more secure area of the facility — a smaller, more restricted section reserved for those who require increased supervision — it felt both familiar and new all at once.

The first time I ministered in that section, we had maybe eight or nine inmates gathered for our little service. This time, our congregation had grown to sixty-four. Some faces were familiar. Many were not. And one, in particular, stood out immediately.

El Shorty

In the back of the crowd, a man was working through his daily exercise routine. Between sets, he would go completely still and listen — really listen — to what was being preached. I asked Brother Javi if he knew him, and he filled me in.

His name — at least what everyone called him — was El Shorty, "The Short One." Javi shared that when he had first started coming around, El Shorty would work out during ministry time and turn his music up loud enough to block everything out. But over the course of the past year or so, the music had gradually gotten quieter. And now, here he was — standing still, paying attention.

I watched my cousin Alex begin ministering to him and walked over to join. As we talked, the connections were striking. El Shorty had grown up in the San Fernando Valley — so had I. He had done time in the same federal prison my cousin had been in. We had more in common than any of us expected.

At one point, El Shorty mentioned that he was feeling an overwhelming sensation throughout his entire body. I asked if I could pray for him. He accepted without hesitation.

A friend had gifted us several extra-large print Bibles to hand out on the trip. Noticing that El Shorty wore glasses, I asked if he'd be interested in one. He agreed — and honestly, the look on his face said more than words could.

The Fruit

It was as if the Holy Spirit had been quietly, patiently ministering to El Shorty over the course of months — and we were simply there to witness the fruit of that work. To me, that moment made the entire day worth it, regardless of anything else that changed in our plans.

We keep talking about El Shorty because his story reminds us of something powerful: if Jesus can reach someone like him, He can reach anyone. That is the whole point. That is always the whole point.

Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6). Not a way. Not one option among many. The Way. El Shorty didn't find religion in that prison yard. He encountered the living God — the same God who has been turning the volume down on his defenses, one day at a time, until he was finally ready to hear.

If you're reading this and you've been turning the music up — drowning it out, staying busy, keeping your distance — I want you to know: He is still there. He is still speaking. And He is patient enough to wait until you go quiet.

To support the ongoing work of our work in Oaxaca, or to learn more about 3 Foundations and our mission, visit us at 3foundations.org.