From Atheist to Witness

My name is Fernando Buitrago. For much of my life my world was governed by logic, data, and economic reasoning. I defined myself as a convinced atheist; for me, faith was something foreign, a feeling I respected in my wife, Yohany, but one that couldn’t penetrate the walls of my rationalism. But God was already moving the pieces on a chessboard I couldn’t even see.

The Winter That Warmed Everything

We arrived in Iceland on April 11, 2023, seeking refuge and health. The government assigned us to Grindavík, a fishing village in the southwest. Everything was new, strange, and cold.

That week we were invited to an activity at Hafnarfjörður Seventh-day Adventist Church in the capital region of Iceland. I remember the contrast upon entering: Outside, the Arctic wind was breathtaking; inside, there was a warmth that transcended the physical. There was a diversity of faces and languages, but a shared peace.

There I listened to Pastor Louis Torres, who presented a three-week prophecy seminar in Spanish. As an academic, my first reaction was skepticism. But the message intrigued me, and I returned the following evening. Although his words resonated, when the time came for questions and the call to commitment, doubt still lingered. Yohany and I weren’t ready to take the step of baptism at that moment. Although my mind resisted, the seed, however, had already been planted.

We joined a weekly Bible study group led by the local Bible worker, where we learned more about God’s Word and His character. About two months later Hafnarfjörður church invited us to a weeklong Bible retreat at Hlíðardalsskóli campus with a preacher from Argentina, Omar Mosquera.

The Statue and God’s Timeline

Our transformation process accelerated with the arrival of Omar. With him we immersed ourselves in the constant study of God’s Word. The definitive turning point came during a session on the prophecy of Nebuchadnezzar’s statue.

As a professor accustomed to analyzing systems, seeing the exact succession of empires—Babylon, Medo-Persia, Greece, and Rome—described centuries in advance was like a light being switched on in a dark room. There, under Omar’s guidance, everything made sense and became clear. It wasn’t a coincidence; it was a design.

That clarity was sealed with the study of Daniel 8 and the 2,300 evenings and mornings. Yohany and I spent our evenings comparing historical dates with Bible verses. Every piece of information fit together. The evidence was so solid that we knew it was all real; my atheism crumbled under its own weight.

I looked at my wife and said, “I want to be baptized.” Yohany looked at me in astonishment; she had prayed alone for years, enduring my silence when she wanted to pray with me before bed.

The evidence was so solid that we knew it was all real; my atheism crumbled under its own weight.

Yohany also faced her own decision. She had been baptized as a Catholic at age 11, but after studying the example of Jesus and understanding that biblical baptism by immersion symbolizes being born again, she decided to take the step with me. We were baptized on July 1, 2023.

My wife and I were warmly welcomed into the church family and soon accepted responsibilities in the congregation. We attended church every week—until circumstances changed in an unforeseeable way. Shortly after we stepped into the waters of baptism, our faith was tested in the crucible of fire.

The Volcano and the Humility of the Asylum

We were living in Grindavík, awaiting the government’s decision on our asylum application, when a series of disastrous earthquakes and volcanic activity forced the evacuation of the area. As asylum seekers, we experienced absolute vulnerability. We had no right to choose where to go. Our lives were in the hands of the state. After a brief stay in the capital, we were transferred to Bifröst, an isolated and solitary place about two hours away from our new church family.

We didn’t understand why God would allow us to be removed from our community. While we could sometimes attend church with the help of friends, the distance made everything more complicated. It was a time of uncertainty and fear. But in that solitude, we understood that God was calling us closer to Him. In Bifröst our home became our temple.

Every Friday we prepared all our food for Sabbath to keep it holy. That act of daily obedience became our best sermon. Our friends and housemates, Félix and María, noticed our absence from the shared kitchen downstairs on Saturdays.

“Why don’t you come down to cook? What are you doing up there?” they asked one day.

That curiosity allowed us to study the Bible with them for more than six months. Seeing them surrender to God and be baptized confirmed that our “exile” in Bifröst had an eternal purpose: to save not only our lives but the lives of others.

The Return Home: A New Treasure

In August 2024, after a year and a half in Iceland, our asylum applications were denied. We returned to Venezuela with heavy hearts, but with a treasure that no country can take away: the Holy Spirit.

We didn’t waste any time. Upon our arrival, we transferred our membership and got to work in our mission. During our first year back we had the honor of serving as deacon and deaconess. Recently I was appointed treasurer of my local church. It’s a beautiful irony; the man who once relied solely on money and economic logic now manages the Lord’s resources, trusting completely in His provision.

Today, when I look back, I understand that the volcanic eruption and the rejection of asylum were not tragedies, but part of God’s refining process. Iceland gave us the encounter, the volcano gave us humility, and today Venezuela gives us the mission field. His plan is, and always will be, perfect.