In this book Dr. Alberto Mottesi demonstrates in a special way the generosity and mercy of God who sent his only Son as an immensely valuable instrument for touching lives and calling sinners to a person relationship with God.
Pastor Mottesi lives a life that is filled with a passion for souls, and in this volume he teaches that the purpose of his life is to encourage the downtrodden. To inject passion into the youth. To provide a vision. To promote spiritual fire. To awaken consciences and to raise up a generation that will transform history. Only in this way, with this passion for the Word, can a child of God surrender himself entirely to preaching and proclaiming: “Because the word of God is living and active. Sharper that any two-edged sword…”
|Series:||Biografias de grandes lideres de nuestros tiemposSeries Series|
|Product dimensions:||5.40(w) x 8.50(h) x 1.10(d)|
|Age Range:||18 Years|
About the Author
Dr. Alberto Mottesi is one of the most well-known and respected conference speakers in the Hispanic-American world. His programs are broadcast on thousands of radio and television channels to a daily audience of millions of people. During the last 35 years, he has preached in person to more than 20 million human beings. He is known for his ministry to presidents, governors, and politicians in all of the Spanish speaking countries. Journalists have dubbed him “The Pastor to the Presidents.” He has published 17 books. He is one of the strongest voices calling the Church to intervene not only in the evangelization of individuals but also in the transformation of the culture.
Read an Excerpt
Unstoppable PassionBiografías de grandes líderes de nuestros tiempos
By Alberto Mottesi
ZondervanCopyright © 2012 Alberto Mottesi
All right reserved.
Chapter OneTHE WORLD WHEN I WAS BORN
It was 1942, a year that consumed the world in war. The Axis countries—Germany, Italy, and Japan—were at the apex of their power as marauders. Hitler had conquered France and most of Western Europe, and his eager eyes were now fixed on Russia. Mussolini had also risen, supporting Rommel in North Africa, as he made his way to Egypt. Hirohito, with his surprise attack on Pearl Harbor in December of 1941, had made the United States' participation in the war unavoidable, and several ruthless battles had already been fought for strategic islands in the Pacific Ocean. These temporary triumphs of the Axis powers encouraged its members to dream of world dominance, and it seemed likely at that point that they would achieve their goal.
On yet another continent, Argentina was experiencing strong political tensions of its own. Being openly sympathetic to Nazism, Argentina allowed the United States' appeal to break off relations with the Axis to go unheeded. The Argentine resistance to joining the Allies at that time unleashed strong economic pressures from North America that eventually forced a rift, just two years later.
Domestically, our then President Ramón S. Castillo openly manipulated elections to maximize the conservative party power in what came to be known as Argentina's "infamous decade," but Castillo's time was coming to a close. Corruption, bribery, and use of force had become his regime's modus operandi. The Argentine people, having lost faith in the democratic process and unhappy with the government, were a fertile ground for a coup d'état, a revolution.
Amid this political unrest, in the chaos of 1942, in a quiet house at 1553 Gascón Street in the city of Palermo, a suburb of Buenos Aires, in the region of Río de la Plata, a baby born April 19th wailed for the first time.
I was the second son of the Mottesi-Rondani union, arriving five years after my only sibling Osvaldo Luis. He had arrived five years after our parents' union. My parents, Jose and Esther, had exchanged marriage vows in 1932. Both came from Italian immigrant families, and had not experienced ease in life. My father left school at the tender age of nine to work and help with the financial support of his family. He told us, his children, that he had said farewell to his teacher in a sea of tears. His heart ached at having to leave his studies so prematurely, but the financial need was pressing. He had to do it. From that point on, he'd get up at five o'clock in the morning to haul meat at a freezer-storage facility in the city.
Eventually, Jose's dedication produced a better standard of living. Later he learned cabinetmaking, which improved the family's financial situation even more. Eventually, Jose and his father, Orlando, began their own business of painting and remodeling houses. They prospered. After several years had passed, José, upon his father's retirement, was left in control of the construction business. He had an innate ability to make friends, and he counted some of the cream of society in Buenos Aires in his own inner circle.
Even though economic hardship in his childhood had made it difficult for José to attend school, his desire for knowledge had never been quenched. He continually bought books, which he devoured, making of himself a magnificent cultural resource. He was self-taught in the best sense of the word, eventually amassing a stupendous personal library.
Argentina is truly a melting pot of cultures. About 95 percent of Argentines consider themselves white Caucasians, and are the descendants of Europeans, mostly Italians and Spaniards. A liberal immigration policy at the end of the nineteenth century allowed massive passage into the country. Until 1930, there were several waves of immigrants arriving to populate the immense territory that is Argentina, the eighth largest country in the world in terms of land mass, but with one of the lowest rates of population density. The two world wars and the Great Depression that occurred between them brought more huge waves of immigrants from a variety of European countries, including Italy, Spain, England, Germany, Poland, Denmark, and Switzerland—immigrants who came to build new lives for themselves in the southern hemisphere. This gave rise to the popular description of Argentines as Italians who speak Spanish but would rather be French and yet think of themselves as Englishmen. It is also said that, practically speaking, there is no Argentine family that does not have at least one Italian in its ancestry.
It is certainly true that the Mottesi-Rondani family had a lot of Italian heritage at its heart. On Thursdays and Sundays our pasta dinners were not to be missed, and the ravioli and spaghetti noodles my grandmother Maria made were "finger-licking" good.
The government of our home was strongly influenced by the ancestors who arrived from the City of the Seven Hills. Everything was done in a paternalistic way, through and through. A father was the axis around which all the family's activities turned. He was the "commendatore," the commander of the family, who dictated and enforced every decision. His authority was sometimes exaggerated to such extremes that would make us laugh today- in these modern times, but that's how things were then.
I grew up in a very circumspect home. Any outings from the house, which occurred only sporadically, were mostly business-related. My parents were unaccustomed to entertaining, and the gatherings that we hosted were often nothing more than endless conversations about football and politics. At that time my father already had the entire business on his shoulders. However, being at the helm of a respected construction business allowed for a comfortable life at home.
Our lifestyle was not wasteful, but neither was it wanting. Our social environment included people from the most prominent families. It has never ceased to amaze me that a man with so little schooling, completely lacking a formal education, could in time come to count within his social circle some of the most distinguished citizens of Argentina. My father made many friends among them, including Mr. Julio Giveli. Every Sunday, Giveli, in his latest-model automobile, would come by our house to go with us to the River Plate Stadium. My father was one of the founders of the River Plate team, and because he was a lifetime member, he provided us with a privileged place in the stands, where we were able to watch the team making some of its best goals.
As a small child I loved sports. Swimming, basketball and football, were my favorites to practice. However, from deep inside me, another passion bloomed, inherited from my father: the love of reading.
Chapter TwoMY LOVE FOR BOOKS
What an enormous pleasure it was to feel the pages of a book, to begin reading and then finish a book—no cartoon drawings, just pure letters! I was surrounded by a carefully selected and exclusive collection of books, and it was easy for me to simply reach out and grasp any volume that caught my interest.
Reading awakened my imagination. You could say that I became—at a very young age—an intellectual tourist. Through books, I was able to imagine the savage jungles, the searing deserts, the romantic countryside, and the great dramas of humanity that accompanied my earliest consciousness of the world.
I read some of the enduring classics, devouring even the longest manuscripts. When I was not attending class, or when I had two or three days off from school, I would not put a book down until I had finished it. Lying down or seated, standing, walking—I think that I tried every reading position imaginable, and even invented some, to avoid putting down the book of the moment.
One night during a family gathering, while my parents and some aunts and uncles were drinking mate and enjoying empanadas, I overheard the following conversation about myself. Adolfo, one of my uncles on my father's side, spoke first: "It is unbelievable that little Alberto reads so much. I talked to my wife, Cecilia, about this, and I told her that I think he may be ill. You should be more careful with him. It would be unfortunate if he were to have some sort of brain disorder. You know, so many stories are told...."
"Don't worry," my mother answered in a calm and friendly tone. "Alberto has always liked to read books. Here in the house, instead of decorations, we have books everywhere. It is only natural to me that Alberto, surrounded by so many books, would pick up a book instead of a toy. José and I have watched him. He definitely loves to read."
"But that's not natural," said Guillermo, another uncle whose face seemed too long to me. "I think it's bad for such a young boy to have so strong a desire to read. You know, books contain an unspeakable variety of themes. Who can say that little Alberto is not reading something dirty? His unusual interest could be motivated by adult readings."
"No, Guillermo," my father said emphatically. "What you're saying is absurd. First of all, the books Alberto reads are what he finds in this house, and I have not purchased books that go against our moral values. And secondly, even though you may not believe this, Esther and I are aware of what books our son is reading. I have often checked to see what he is reading. Excuse us, Guillermo and Adolfo, but Alberto is not sick, nor is he reading things that are inappropriate. The only thing we can tell you is that he was born with a desire to read, and he is surrounded by books. What more can we say?"
I went to my bedroom smiling. At least I had learned that my interest in books was obvious to them.
Years later, I would become aware of the importance of my early reading. My love for reading has been one of those rare pleasures in life that I would not trade for anything. What's more, books were my true friends. I rarely went outside to play with the children in the neighborhood. The children from the houses nearby had their cliques, but I never participated in them.
I was a solitary child. Five years older, my brother Osvaldo had different interests at his age, so our moments of playing together were as few and as far between as our arguments.
Because there were no other children in the house, I often took refuge in the first book that came to hand. I would get so absorbed in reading my books that the thought of playing games with the children in the neighborhood seemed ludicrous.
My childhood was marked by an unusual seriousness about life. In fact, the books themselves began to shape me into a somewhat taciturn character, prone to quietness. I always sought the most isolated places in our home to avoid interruptions. I had a favorite old chair for my reading pleasure and I'd sit there, engrossed in books for hours and hours.
From the time I became aware of my own taste and preferences, I was rebellious about certain impositions. For example, the trend at that time for boys was to have one's hair slicked back like Elvis Presley. My mother would put an entire layer of gel on my hair to make sure my hair would look well combed. As if that weren't humiliation enough, short pants were our daily attire. Oh, how I hated the way things were then!
When my mother and my Aunt Pititi took me shopping— which was almost a daily chore—one way I had of trying to make them understand I did not like to go was to sit motionless on the curb of the sidewalk and wait. However, my mother and my aunt always won that battle.
Other opportunities to demonstrate my non-conformity came whenever they bought me new shoes. I didn't like white shoes, so whenever I had to wear white shoes, I would walk along the street kicking at anything along the way to scuff them and make them immediately unsuitable for wearing.
My actions implied an internal opposition to impositions. There was some rigidity in the demands of my parents, and I, in whatever way I could, made my rebellion known. I was silently shouting that they were suffocating me with all of their annoying impositions.
My studies began at the elementary school on Pringles Street, located approximately eight blocks from my house. I walked there and back each day, and the years of schooling simply passed by. I was an ordinary student. My efforts did not go beyond what was necessary to satisfy my teachers and my family. School seemed like a normal activity to me. If all the other children went to that school, then, why would I not go there as well?
Directly across the street from my house, there was a very old building that served as a neighborhood library and recreational center. Naturally, what attracted me to that place were the books. I loved to thumb through the library's card catalog searching for an interesting title. After finding one and asking for the book, I would go sit at the table and chair in the farthest corner of the building. The librarians knew me well. I became so engrossed in the readings that it often pained them to take a book away from me at closing time. Thus, they often allowed me to borrow books and finish reading them at home. Of course, I always returned the books. That same library had a game room that I sometimes used with some acquaintances, where we enjoyed playing indoor games.
There were also moments of sheer joy during my childhood, such as when I played the role of "chaperone.'" A young man named Paco was courting Aunt Angelica, my father's sister. As an excuse to spend some time alone together, they would ask my parents for permission to take me to the merry-go-round. On one side of the carousel there was a clasp placed in such a way that we could reach out and try to hook it while the carousel was spinning us around. If we succeeded we would get a free ride on the merry-go-round. We went once a week in the evening, and it was always a highlight for me. Also each week, Uncle Paco, a car enthusiast, would take me to the stadium of the West Train Club, to see the races featuring those small and fast competition cars, something that I always enjoyed.
Even so, my personality was developing certain pessimistic traits. Some of it due to the traumas suffered at the hands of the "supreme paternal authority," plus the age difference with my brother Osvaldo, the demanding selfishness of my Aunt Pititi, and the experience with Uncle Anselmo, all of them were factors that put an indelible mark in my long-term future.
Excerpted from Unstoppable Passion by Alberto Mottesi Copyright © 2012 by Alberto Mottesi. Excerpted by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1 The World When I Was Born 12
Chapter 2 My Love for Books 16
Chapter 3 The Unanswered Question 21
Chapter 4 The Night of the Punch 25
Chapter 5 What a Prize I Won! 29
Chapter 6 Protestantism 34
Chapter 7 The Church of "el Once" Neighborhood 39
Chapter 8 The Unavoidable Calling 43
Chapter 9 The Largest Seminary in the World 48
Chapter 10 "Let the Silver Trumpet Sound" 53
Chapter 11 Noemí, My Love 58
Chapter 12 Beginning of the Pastoral Work 65
Chapter 13 The Calling of Evangelism 69
Chapter 14 The Devoto Prison 72
Chapter 15 The Thread of Faith 77
Chapter 16 The Firemen and the Baptismal Tank 83
Chapter 17 The Mantle of the Servant of God: Tommy Hicks 87
Chapter 18 A Very Modern Solution to the Problem of Marriage 94
Chapter 19 The Church Goes to the Street 99
Chapter 20 A Difficult Decision 103
Chapter 21 Sojourn in Chile: The Bitter Side 107
Chapter 22 Sojourn in Chile: The Sweet Side 114
Chapter 23 An Associate of Paul Finkenbinder 118
Chapter 24 In a Church Parking Lot 123
Chapter 25 The First Babblings 126
Chapter 26 Telemundo: An Unusual Episode 132
Chapter 27 Don't Wear New Shoes When Traveling by Airplane 139
Chapter 28 Establishing Foundations (1977-1983) 144
Chapter 29 The Testimonies of the Association 148
Chapter 30 1984: A Surprising Milestone (I) 153
Chapter 31 1984: A Surprising Milestone (II) 159
Chapter 32 El Salvador 1984 164
Chapter 33 An Outstanding 1985 168
Chapter 34 Great Crusades in 1986 173
Chapter 35 Evangelistic Explosion 179
Chapter 36 On the Mount of Transfiguration 184
Chapter 37 With Arms Extended 190
Chapter 38 The Beginning of a New Decade 195
Chapter 39 Under Authority 200
Chapter 40 Great Crusades of the Last Decade 205
Chapter 41 Haiti 2001 211
Chapter 42 The Muslim World 215
Chapter 43 When God Is in Control 219
Chapter 44 The Presidents of Latin America 222
Chapter 45 Latin America and the Evangelization of the Leadership 227
Chapter 46 A Sense of Humor 231
Chapter 47 She 235
Chapter 48 My Children and My Grandchildren 239
Chapter 49 My Team 243
Chapter 50 The Pastors of My Beloved Latin America 248
Chapter 51 To the Church and the Young People 255
Chapter 52 Prophecies and Miracles 260
Chapter 53 Our Window on the World 264
Chapter 54 School of Evangelists 268
Chapter 55 New Latin America 273
Chapter 56 Golden Moments 277
Chapter 57 A Message to Give 282
Epilogue: To Serve My Lord 286