MarkP – Page 2

Brazil Update for 4/24/2010

April 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

Someone flipped a switch.

The “on” position referred to rain, and it wasted no time in getting started. March was an incredibly hot month with clear blue skies every day; then April came, and with it, rain. The skies are now filled with clouds, the sun is desperately trying to peak through, and the humidity is hanging like a weight on your shoulders; the heat is oppressive-sapping you of all your energy and strength. The constant wind that we have counted on for comfort is often nowhere to be found and things have become very uncomfortable.

Our house has many openings that are impossible to close off to the outside, so this morning I had to navigate large puddles in attempting to make the breakfast table. William did his usual boing-ing out of bed and running for the stairs like Christmas morning, only to find himself flat out on his back, lying in one of the many indoor lakes. The roads here have no drainage whatsoever so, often the streets are flooded with huge puddles. Last year we were driving small Fiats with very little road clearance. I would drive up to the water’s edge, kick off my shoes, roll up my pant legs, and wade into the center, making sure we could pass before attempting the ocean crossing. Thank God He’s provided us two vehicles that are capable of rough roads as well as water crossings.

What an answer to prayer and another hurdle that God has helped us over: finding us vehicles perfect for the work He’s called us to, here in Brazil. Cars are so expensive here, used vehicles are a real gamble, corrosion is a huge problem because of the ocean air, and the roads are awful, taking their toll on any of the vehicles used around Natal. Some of the speed bumps are so high you’ll hang up and drag if you don’t cross them on the diagonal.

One night, Lori and I were desperately looking online for a car in the Natal area when we saw what looked like a nice little SUV. It was two years old, had low mileage, and was seemingly well-maintained. The contact person’s name was Nildo. When we contacted Nildo, we found out the vehicle was nowhere near Natal, but rather about twenty hours inland in the city of Brasilia. Brasilia is a fairly brand-new city, built to be the capital and pride and joy of Brazil. It is flawlessly designed with perfect roads, no speed bumps, and is far from salt-saturated air. Nildo willingly drove the twenty hours to Natal just so we could look at his truck. As soon as we saw it, we were re-affirmed that God was answering prayer, meeting our needs, and working far outside our pre-conceived boundaries. It was a black truck (Lori’s preferred color) with black leather interior (Lori’s preferred choice) and it was perfect, as if never driven. Nildo was an obvious fanatic-the kind I often made fun of!- but just the guy you’re not making fun of when you need to buy a used car. It was a five week process before the truck was in our possession. At times, it looked as if it might never happen. The constant complications were mind boggling, but she has it now, loves it, and it serves our need perfectly.

I was still in search of a pickup for myself, over and over again coming up empty. The trucks were beat, the mileage high, and the prices out of this world. I found one truck at a dealership and he accepted my offer. When Lori went to transfer funds, he informed her that there was a small lien on the vehicle. “No problem,” he said. “Give me the money, I’ll pay off the lien, and in a few weeks the truck will be yours.”

Hmm. What would you do? We walked away from that deal. Only days later, Nildo called from Brasilia. He had found me a truck. It was perfect, it had low miles, it was the model and color I wanted and thought I would never find, and it was priced considerably less than anything we had been pricing here. It was a close friend of his that was selling. If we were still looking, he said that he would put it on a truck and ship it to Natal for us to inspect. We both thanked God, and agreed to buy the truck on Nildo’s word, sight unseen. I picked it up a week later and it was all he he claimed it was. It’s perfect; it has been meticulously maintained. I’m sure that only since it’s been in my possession, has it ever been used as a truck. We are so thankful that again God has proven to be a kind and reliable master, who provides abundantly for His servants. What a huge blessing to have that behind us, and no longer have to pay ridiculous rental fees that added up to a small fortune over the last eight months.

We bumped the number to five hundred and fifty, because we kept running out. I would close the bin at the second-to-last stop, knowing there wasn’t enough sandwiches to cover the multitude waiting at the last stop. While we would have been so excited to see God multiply the bread and mozzarella-mortadella, we arrived at the last stop, opened the bin, and realized that God just wanted us to use commonsense and order more. I wasn’t expecting to open and see a full bin, but every time I reached in I wanted to come up with another sandwich.

Two weeks ago, we arrived at one of our stops to be greeted by a young man who had ridden his bike about fifteen miles from his home, waiting the day at our last stop, hoping to see us. I didn’t recognize him, but immediately Lori knew who he was-Adriano. Clean cut and dressed in nice clothes, he had a big smile on his face. He had come and waited for us-to tell us that God has saved his soul! He was living with his family now, far from the Ponta Negra stop, where he once washed car windows and waited with his buddies for our arrival on Thursdays. He wanted us to know what it was that made God become real to him, made him realize that a new life was possible, and convicted and convinced him of God’s personal love for him: the distance we travelled to bring him the Gospel!

What a thrill it is, to be passing out sandwiches and juice and God’s Word, while seeing fruit from your labor standing right before your eyes. We had the chance to talk with him after the hungry were fed, and you could see on his face the joy that God had now placed deep within his heart. Staying in touch with these kids is very difficult with no means of contact, but he promised to find us, once in a while on Thursdays.

The circus is in town. We saw the big tent being set up when we arrived at our Machadão stop, right in the center of Natal. Surrounding the filthy dirty tent, were twenty little camping trailers, hardly fit as shelter for a pet, and hardly road-worthy. There was one larger wreck-of-a-trailer that I guessed was the communal showers and bathroom because it had a large drain pipe that exited the trailer’s back and dumped into a large hole that had been dug in the ground.

This happy environment was cordoned off with a dilapidated, rust-ridden, steel fence. I imagine that the fence’s purpose was not only to keep non-payers out, but also to keep their acquired attractions in. I went to the fence and yelled for the people to come. I wish I could aptly describe the little faces that came from every corner, lining up along the fence like little prisoners. Their hands reached between the bars, excitedly grasping whatever we gave them. I know your heart, like ours, would have been melted. Filthy, dirty children-boys and girls wearing only underpants that may once have been a color, but now all matched the color of the dirt they were living in. Many of the children were deformed, and their deformities were being used as a means of profit. All their faces showed the hard lives they have already lived, even though the oldest was fifteen. When we asked how long they would be in town, their response was, “As long as people come and pay to see us, we’ll be here.”

It’s been four weeks now, and they’re still entertaining the people of the city. I find comfort in knowing that while they are here, we’ve been able to feed them sandwiches for their hunger, cold juice for their thirst, and-best of all!-tell them the old, old story; the Lord Jesus Christ satisfies both the hunger and the thirst of their precious souls.

Last week we met a young man named Enrique. He was sent to us by a concerned citizen, who had heard about the work that God was doing. He had told him that he could get some food for his starving body, and maybe some help with his life.

Enrique was a professional chef who had once worked in all the big hotels in the city. He was a father, with children and a wife who loved him, but couldn’t take his addiction any longer. He was living under the soccer stadium, sleeping in the dirt, and had had no shower or change of clothes for three weeks. He was begging us for help. We made arrangements to pick him up Friday morning at ten o’clock. If he was serious, and was there when we arrived, then we would take him to the rehab., where he would hear the Gospel and hear that God can help him overcome the sin of drug abuse.

Friday morning I loaded the truck with about eight hundred dollars worth of food, purchased for the rehab, and made my way to Enrique’s stop. He was there waiting, happy to see us, and quick to get in the truck and make the trip to the rehab. You can imagine our disappointment when the admissions person took one look at him, then informed us that this was his third time there. “He comes for clothes, a shower, and a hot meal,” he said. “Then he’s off looking for his next fix.” So, it came as no surprise when we heard he had only lasted the weekend. Once again, he turned his back on God’s offer and chose his life of drugs, filth, and vile sin.

While at the rehab. I asked Clesso if he wanted us to take him home to visit his family, a break he had earned for exemplary behavior. His face lit up, he looked towards his counselor who gave him the nod, then ran off to collect the few belongings he had. While he was gone, they again took the opportunity to tell us about the amazing transformation that God has accomplished in his life, and how wonderful he’d been to all the other men, helping in any way he could, in an effort to put the love of God on display.

He left with us, full of excitement at the thought of seeing the grandmother that he hadn’t seen since checking in at the rehab six months ago, and the rest of his family-some of whom he hadn’t seen in two years.

It was at least two hours of driving due west. We headed well into the interior before arriving at his small, humble village. It was a nice ride, and we saw landscape and lush foliage-so different from the sand dunes we’ve been surrounded with the last nine months.

Everyone was home, all sitting around the front door of the little house, and all eyes followed the truck as we pulled up. This was the most exciting thing they had seen all day, and they had no idea who we were or why we were there. That is, until Clessio jumped out with the huge smile that seems to consume his whole face. Looking back now, I remember yelps of excitement, looks of unbelief, overwhelming joy, and happiness. He ran and threw his arms around his Mom, grandmother, little brother, and sister in-law, and they looked into the eyes of a transformed son that had come back home to be with his family for Easter.

We dropped him off Friday reminding him as we left that we had promised the rehab to have him back by Monday evening.

The grandmother apologized for the disheveled condition of the house as we returned Monday evening. She explained that Clessio’s brother, who is a husband and father of three, had been drinking all weekend and had wreaked havoc on the home where they all lived. They asked me to pray and it was a bittersweet prayer meeting-filled with thanksgiving for one miracle and begging God for another. We stood in a circle and I prayed for this family as one mother thanked God for sparing her son, and another wife wept outloud, as I asked God to liberate her husband from the power of Satan and save his soul. When I said amen, she slumped to a nearby chair with her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking, and repeating over and over again, “Please God, only You, please do what only You can do.”

They had all seen the transformation in Clesso and openly acknowledged it as a God miracle. This wife of a troubled husband professes to be saved, but confessed that her faith in God had been shaken by her circumstances. Now, faith had been renewed as she looked at Clessio and was reminded that God still spares lives and saves souls. Please pray for this boy, Cleberson and Clessio’s mother who is not saved, but plainly acknowledges that God spared the life of her son. Clessio happily jumped back in the truck and talked our ears off the whole two hour trip back to the rehab.

Lori and Caroline have been spending a fair bit of time at the orphanage, and the visits have been very encouraging. Cleide has been feeling much better and has been spending her days back with the kids. We dropped by Easter weekend with some candy and small toys for the kids, arriving to find the house unusually quiet. We learned that Cleide had the kids at a special Easter Sunday School service.

The lease is up on the home they are using, and the landlord wants them out; he’s unwilling to renew the lease. Thank God for a temporary home He has provided, a little south of the city. Cleide and Lori went to check out the property and then accompanied two women from the minors judge’s office, who gave their approval for the site. The best thing about it is the huge piece of land that the house sits on. The kids will finally have room to run around and, hopefully, exhaust a bit of the boundless energy they have!

Most likely we’ll all be there to help pack and move the few belongings they have when the moment of moving arrives. Lori’s been helping with pre-moving organization and cleaning, although she’s having flash-backs of our own hectic, whirlwind move of last July!

Now that we have received confirmation that our Permanent Visa is waiting for us in Boston, we will be able to purchase the property that we believe God has chosen for the orphanage. Please make this a fervent matter of prayer as we move forward. We are very aware that destruction will be the result of moving independent of God’s will and purpose.

The women of Aningas are so pleased with the renovation of the Galpão, and it’s exciting to see them in there working every day. There’s an experienced seamstress who has been spending time with the women each day training them on the machines. They presently have six sewing machines that were given to them by a company who has contracted them to sew for them. Five more machines are promised to them, from another vendor who has guaranteed work. The building is quickly becoming a center of activity in Aningas, with mothers working inside, while the kids congregate and play around the outside grounds.

I have four boys from Aningas that are helping me work. We’re still working on the exterior of the building, but soon hope to introduce them to the craft of woodworking, and begin to teach them a trade. I sat them all down one afternoon and explained again why my family was working in their village. I gave them a simple Gospel message and told them to expect this every week. Please pray for them; they all seem very receptive to a message that they seemingly had never heard before. Vaughn is in his late twenties, married, and a dad of four children, all sick with respiratory problems. Paulo is about seventeen, a great worker who is eager to learn. Leandro, 17, is the boy who lost his eyesight suddenly, so we took him into Natal for treatment… Nego is his younger brother. They were both orphaned as children when they lost their parents to alcohol abuse. Nildete took Nego in and raised him as her own. Others in the community stepped forward to raise the other children, who are grown up now.

Leandro lives with his older sister who has no husband, but three children. She depends on Leandro to support them all.

Teaching them will be very difficult, seeing that presently they know nothing, and seem to be afraid of almost anything that plugs in. Pray that while getting involved in the project of teaching them we never lose sight of the motive: their spiritual need and the well-being of their souls, as well as the souls of their families.

Many of you have heard me talk about Eliel, whom we’ve known since our first trip here in 2007. He and his family have become good friends to us, and many times have been a great help to our family. Eliel teaches English in Natal and he offered to spend time with me and help me with the Portugues language. I took him up on his offer and pick him up every Tuesday morning. He spends the day with me in Aningas, and I deliver him back home at night. This way, I can be close to the boys, while committing the day to studying the language. What a blessing it is to have this gifted language professor available to work with me at my convenience, teaching me what I so desperately need to communicate God’s message to the lost!

We’re all doing great and the weeks fly by with so many things to occupy our time. The kids are doing very well at school. I believe that this report will bring everyone up to date on what’s going on here in Natal, Brazil.

We continue to ask for, and covet, the prayers of the saints as we take the daily steps that God lays out on our pathway. We can look back over the last nine months and see God acting as only He can-flawlessly!-and it gives us the confidence to move forward knowing that, right now, we are exactly where God wants us to be. That assurance causes us great joy and a true spirit of thankfulness.

Good night, and good bye, for now.

With Christian love Mark, Lori, Caroline, William.

Filed Under: Vá Livre Update Tagged With: clessio, gospel, hungry, poverty, Street Kids

March 16, 2010 – Update

March 18, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

Twenty-six zebras in all, if I did the math correctly.

They make up the border of a beach towel, hanging on a towel rack across from a seat I had been occupying for some time. At first I was guessing, but then I realized that there was an accurate way to come up with the correct number. By making sure the towel was hanging exactly at the halfway mark, I could count one side and double the number. Once I had that figured out I moved on to the zebras’ stripes. I was on zebra number two when I realized that they were all the same, and simple math could help me arrive at that number as well. Funny the things you occupy yourself with when you have to sit in one spot for a long time. Like the old man sitting by his barn on an Byfield country road, counting how many s’s are in: “The blood of Jesus Christ, God’s Son cleanses us from all sin” – (only some of you will get the example). In this case it was a towel with zebras. Lori was sick on Thursday day and I bragged to myself that I was immune and it would have to move on. I felt its effect coming on Saturday morning and by nightfall it had the best of both Caroline and myself. I never understood why people bring magazines in with them, I for one preferred the leather couch in our basement when I had a new magazine to peruse. By Sunday night I was hoping that my stay in the tiled room was finally over and I could move on to another chair in the house.

I picked up the computer last night, thinking I would get started with the update, but that’s as far as I got. I woke at five-thirty this morning and came downstairs to take advantage of this quiet time and get started. Many busy weeks have come and gone with no update, and for that I’m sorry. Honestly, there wasn’t much to report. I’ve been busy with construction on the Galpão every day (boring info), and Lori has been running around doing everything else (also boring info).

Dad and Mom left last week after a five week stay, and their time here passed like a flash. If I were asked to document the events of those five weeks I think I would be at a loss. I have never experienced time go by so fast as it does living here in Natal. We thoroughly enjoyed their being here, and for the most part Dad was game to hang with me, doing what ever I had planned for the day. Thursdays were the highlight of his week, and he loved coming to feed the street kids. I think he would come having challenged himself to see how many gospel papers he could pass out in a day, and each week was better than the last. On one occasion one of our street girls asked him for the package of tracks he was holding, and I could see he was reluctant to give it up. I told him that she was asking because she would be willing to help pass them out. Even with that information he still was slow to give them up, wanting, I think, to be the one putting them in the people’s hands.

I’m sure Inacia enjoyed Mom being around, because she insisted on helping with the daily chores around the house. She would often go out with Lori and return telling us how impossible it is to get anything done around here. How antiquated, backward, and inefficient, the systems are, and how desperately they all need improving. We were finally able to finalize the purchase of a car. That process took more than FIVE weeks, from the time we saw the car till the money was transfered into the seller’s account. You can either get very frustrated, or you can laugh and do your best to roll with it. Laughing and rolling means a longer life.

We lost a whole week because of Carnival-the mother of all Mardi Gras, whose main festival is in Rio de Janeiro, but is echoed in some way throughout the entire country. Christians advised us to lock ourselves in our house for the week, telling us that it’s the safest thing to do. The country shuts down, everyone empties onto the beach, the cops look the other way, the booze flows freely, the music is loud, inhabitations are discarded, and people do as they please. I planned projects around the house and was able to stay put for a few days, but soon found myself venturing out to see what was really going on. I drove into the city and was shocked at the emptiness and absolute feeling of lifelessness all around me. Like a deadly virus had wiped out humanity and I alone was left to record the events. There was hardly a car moving or a soul walking the streets. All the businesses were closed, all the traffic lights were blinking; the message came across clearly-do what you want, nobody’s here. I stood on a sidewalk where normally you would be over run by the crowd and called “hello” to see if it would echo off the buildings. Just imagine Boston without a soul walking the streets. The beaches, however, were standing-room-only, and the beat from the music could be felt through the seat of my truck. The people were many, the music loud, but it all died about midnight when everyone crashed for the night, so we were able to always get a night’s rest.

The doctors are on strike here in the public hospitals, and Nildete’s dad just had a stroke. Lori called her the other day to see if she wanted to take him for a test he needed, to a private hospital.

“I don’t think its necessary, he’s been improving daily since you and Mark visited him,” she said. He had lost all motor skills in his right side, as well as the ability to talk. His children were caring for him the best they could, but the care he needed would come from a profession that had chosen to no longer work. We found him laying in a hammock, the family all standing around doing their best to translate his garble, we all held hands and I prayed while Lori translated. I asked that God would make himself real to all present, by healing this man and returning him to his family. It was the end of a bad day, and I was frustrated beyond the beyond with everything I had planned for the day, and week, falling apart. The day’s events had brought the tears up and they were right behind my eyes, it didn’t take much for them to flow freely. All week, no one did what they said they would do, nothing happened the way it was supposed to. Everyone I hired wanted the money but didn’t want to perform the services they were hired for. After eight months of this, once again I felt spent and ready to quit. When Lori suggested we make the trip to visit Nildete’s dad, I went along having nothing else to do.

Lori and I climbed in the truck along with Nildete, her sister, and some folks from Aningas, and we drove an hour north up the coast arriving at a small fishing village called Zumbi, where Nildete was born. Her Dad seemed happy to see us. We couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but the family told us he had been asking to see us. I was not in the right frame of mind or spirit, and was reluctant when Lori suggested my praying for dad and the family. It was a prayer full of questioning and doubt. It lacked faith to say the least, and I felt my request selfish and hypocritical, convinced I had gone through the motions, and expecting no response. Regardless, I commended this man and his family to God, asking for a miracle.

“Is this the victory you often speak about, Lori?” Nildete asked.

“Victory how”? Lori asked.

“Well, since you were there, and Mark prayed for Dad, he’s up walking around and can speak again.”

God is real and able to do what is impossible. He’ll go to great lengths to make himself visible, tolerating the faithlessness of his sent servants, and longing for a heart that openly welcomes him in.

“Yes,” Lori said. “This is victory, Nildete. Make sure your family knows that this was all God, responding because He loves them all. He has chosen to show His power so that they might believe and believing have life eternal. He longs to claim them as his own.”

There are so many kids living on the street and we cross paths with them every Thursday. Every one of them will tell you stories that will break your heart, but amidst all the pain of so many faces, there are times when individuals stand out and grab your heart in a special and compelling way. That was the case a few weeks ago when we arrived at our last stop.

I had never seen them before, Savanna was about twelve years old, her brother about eight, their cousin about ten-all desperately needing a bath and some serious attention-as well as starving for food and any form of affection. I didn’t notice them at first with so many people crowded around the back of the truck. But soon the majority were satisfied and moved on to their post back on the street, leaving these three still hanging around the truck. The little guy asked for money, so I gave him the pocket change I was carrying. I asked where they lived, and they pointed to some torn plastic bags filled with personal belongings piled under a tree. I looked towards Jefferson, who has become a reliable friend on the street, and he nodded his head, confirming that in fact that was their house. I found it so hard to leave them that day, and wanted so much to put them in the truck and take them home. I gave the boys a hug, put ten dollars in Savanna’s hand, took her face in my hands, telling her to use the money to take care of herself and the boys. I promised to be back next week, God Willing, with some clothes for them. I prayed as I left, asking that God would watch over them for another week. I followed through on my promise making sure to bring each something new to wear, gathered from the donations brought from home. I saw them several times after that and then they disappeared. This happens so often. Where the children go I have no idea, but they move on to another spot and often we never see them again.

Pray for that little family that God allows us to cross paths with them again. What a privilege to be able to show them the love of God. Pray, too, that the Father of the fatherless will soon make provision for His servants to gather these little lambs to a home where they will daily hear His precious Word, experience His life-changing power in salvation, and become set-apart lives for Him.

Finding reliable tradespeople to work for you here is just about impossible. They want your money and will do whatever is necessary to get it. Give them money up front and you’re likely never to see them again. I had an electrician tell me the other day that he couldn’t come look at my project unless I was willing to pay for his gas. When I agreed to that he was willing to come. Once there he informed me that fifty dollars a day for food and gas would be expected in addition to the cost of his services. I looked at Vaughn, my Brazilian confidant, who confirmed this request by nodding in agreement, as if this is the way things are done in this country. He got one gas payment out of me and then was told we would be consulting others. I ordered a custom roll up garage door for the Galpão so we could receive and deliver materials. He asked for a deposit so he could purchase the materials needed to fabricate the door. I made an exception and gave him half. He lied, flat out lied. He didn’t make up any stories, but told us, every time that we called, that he was on his way and the call was unnecessary. Weeks of this have gone by and I don’t know if I’ll ever see my door. (fool me once)

Lori made a trip to orphanage last week with Dad and Mom. She called ahead, got a shopping list, shopped, and delivered the food that was needed. Cleide was nowhere to be found. We’re not sure what’s going on, but we’re continuing to wait on God for direction regarding that situation. There are many things that at the moment we’re clueless about. We are learning that while we may spend time wondering whether something indicates a “yes” from God, the “noes” are always loud and clear. We are kind of like bumper cars, bumping into a “no” we try another way-every time we look back, it becomes very clear that the bumps and trials are helping us to let go of our plans and our will. Pray with us, for us, that God makes the next step extremely clear so we can move forward with confidence and according to His will.

Bruno has once again decided that he’s well enough, and has left the rehab. We heard he’s at his Dad’s, but he has not reached out to us yet, so we’re not clear on his present condition. Clesseo is the one boy who has stuck it out showing real promise. The director says he’s a real joy to have around, and a great influence on the other men. I’ve a load of food sitting at the house waiting to be delivered, so will soon need to make a trip back to see how all are doing there.

I arrived in Aningas Friday morning with hopes of a productive day working on the Galpão. We just about have the building ready to put the woman to work sewing, though some have come every day and tried working in our mess. The men are also eager to be a part of the woodworking shop, that God willing will be in operation soon. Working there every day has allowed me to grow close with many of the folks and I’ve begun building relationships that I pray God will work through. My plan for this particular Friday was to cut a large pass-through in cement block wall, combining two of the rooms into one. My 10″ grinder spits an unbelievable amount of dirt and dust at me and it wasn’t long before I was unrecognizable, covered from head to foot in powdered cement. I was just settling into the day’s project when I was told that my services were needed elsewhere.

One of the few cars of Aningas had ventured out that morning and died about six miles down a dirt road leading to nowhere. I put the grinder down, grabbed my oversized ratchet straps to use as a tow rope, and asked where I might find these folks. I jumped in my truck, filthy dirty, and became a tow truck driver, heading down a country path, looking for a poor excuse for a car. They had abandoned the car and were taking shade under a large tree when William and I arrived. Some time later we finally arrived back in Aningas with them in tow. I picked up my grinder and went back to work hoping to finish what I had started. I wasn’t long at it, when again I was told my services were of more value elsewhere. I went to the door to see a couple standing there. The mom was holding an unresponsive three-year-old in her arms, and they were asking to be rushed to the city hospital.

“Urgencia?” I asked.

“Sim!” (yes) they said.

“Rapido?” I asked.

“Muito rapido!” (very fast) they said.

Covered in cement and hardly able to see through my goggles, I put the grinder down again and this time I became an ambulance driver.

My heel was grinding the throttle into the floor boards as my little truck gave me all it had. I laid on the horn, my four-ways and headlights were flashing, and I played ambulance, making the hour and twenty minute trip in about forty minutes. If it wasn’t for the sick child I would have been having fun weaving through city traffic.

Once in the city I asked which hospital they wanted and they informed me, with a petrified look on their faces, that I had passed it a half hour ago. I wheeled them into a private children’s hospital that we had used in the past, rushed them in, and announced to all in the waiting room that I needed help. I must have been quite a sight, matted with the filth spit at me from the grinder, but they took me serious. One nurse took the child and another ran off looking for help with the language. They ushered me into an office and interrupted a doctor in the middle of a consultation. He was very kind, excusing himself and turning his attention to my need. He didn’t speak much english, but it was enough for me to make my case. One hundred and ten dollars later and the little boy was treated and released, awake, happy, and being a normal little boy. I asked if they wanted a fast ride home and they both begged that I drive home slowly. I found out later that they had seldom ridden in a car and my ride scared the life out of them! I still haven’t found out what the child’s problem was, but he’s doing just great!

What a very simple and practical way to show who God is, and how quickly a connection and relationship began as a result of the day’s events. How easy to reach them with the Gospel when God through circumstances has won their heart. Please pray that God continues to create situations that allow us to show these poor folks who God is, and the wonder of His love. I never finished my pass through that day, God had other plans. The work will get done in His time; the connections made that day were priceless. I do believe that this is God’s method and am thrilled that He has allowed my family to instrumentally be used in reaching the lost this way. I often think of the extreme example the Saviour gave-to those self-righteous hypocrites who interrogated Him, about who the neighbor was that they were instructed to love as themselves. That’s how far God expects us to go in showing his love to the lost. That Samaritan spared no expense and made every sacrifice he could possibly make to help the injured man. He wasn’t a Jew and he wasn’t his enemy. In the eyes of this Samaritan, he was just a lost, helpless soul who, without help would soon perish. The compassionate heart of this Samaritan made, crossing on the other side of the road and avoiding the injured man, not an option.

I have come to realize that the Gospel is more than a message. It’s a work, it’s an investment, it’s a sacrifice of things and time. When the work has been done and the heart has been won, then the ears will be opened and the message will accomplish its purposes. The Saviour chose the people where this work could be done: the poor, the sick, the needy folks-those were company the Savoiur chose to keep. The work done and The Word preached, both working in harmony, will produce results. It’s God’s chosen method, and when separated the Gospel becomes handicapped.

William and I left early this morning. We were enlisted to help Eliel and Eliane move. I smiled to myself driving into the Planalto, remembering a bumper sticker that often amused me at home-“Yes, this is my truck. No, I won’t help you move.” Once the trucks were loaded, we made our way towards Zona Norte, and the location of their new home. To get there you have to cross over a river which leaves little choice as to the route. For one hour I sat in dead-stopped bumper-to-bumper traffic, wondering what could possibly be causing the hold up. Imagine this scenario, if you can: The Commonwealth of Massachusetts determining that Route 93 needs resurfacing and choosing a Tuesday afternoon at four o’clock to pave the Northbound side in Cambridge, cutting the four lanes to barely one. I’m saying barely one because when I finally reached the cause of the tie up, I almost took off my driver’s side mirror on the paving machine.

This is the country of Brazil and the tolerant mentality of a people who just roll with, what seems so often to me, plain foolishness. I think for the moment you’re all up to date with the events of the past few weeks.

We may be making the trip home soon, Lord Willing, to collect our Permanent Visa, which must be picked up at the Brazilian consulate in Boston. Till then, we continue to ask for your prayer and to tell you how encouraged we always are, to hear of your continued interest in the work God has done, and is continuing to accomplish, here in the northeast of Brazil.

Again we’ll say goodbye with love in Christ,

Mark, Lori, Caroline and William

Filed Under: Aningas, Vá Livre Update Tagged With: aningas

February 6, 2010

February 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

Hi everyone!

I think it’s coming up on two weeks since our last update. When I left you all, it was a Monday morning, and Lori and I were about to head out on the city streets looking for Rafael. He’s one of the boys living on the street who had asked for help at the drug rehab. We had given him the weekend to get his affairs in order, and had arranged to pick him up first thing Monday morning.

We arrived at his city corner, but he was nowhere to be found. We talked to some of his companions and they agreed to show us where they thought he might be. We followed them down one of the city’s side streets and up to what looked like an abandoned building. I looked through holes in the walls hoping I could pick him out amongst the rubble. He was in the middle of washing a little white puppy in his window washing bucket, and looked up as he heard us calling out his name. He dropped the dog and came to open a makeshift gate, and welcomed us into, what was for the moment, his home. There were piles of broken cement, building material, and trash throughout. In the middle of it all was a six foot piece of cardboard that he was using as his bed. I saw some rags, hanging from an improvised clothes line, and assumed it was laundry day and that was the extent of his wardrobe. I saw two bricks claimed from the rubble, sitting on end, with two pipes across the top and a pile of ashes below, and assumed that was his stove.

“I had no luck finding a place for my dogs,” he said, “I won’t be able to to go with you today.” He was talking about a large pit-bull and her little offspring that had just been washed in the bucket. Mom was a scary looking bull of a dog lying in the corner, and she came running when we all looked her way. Lori’s white shirt was looking more grey by the time the big, very dirty, dog was done greeting us.

“I’ve had her since she was a puppy,” he said, “she’s the closest thing I have to a loyal friend; I can’t leave her.”

Lori was on the phone immediately talking to Berg- pronounced Baggie – (admissions person at the rehab) asking if the dogs could come.

“We have seen God at work on these streets,” he said. “If God brought this boy to you for help, then I have no authority to say differently, who am I to oppose God’s direction? Bring the dogs, we’ll figure out what to do.”

Having taken care of that hurtle, Rafael then presented us with the next one.
“I’ve had lots of trouble with the police,” he said. “I’m not allowed to leave this corner, without informing an officer of my whereabouts. He left us to rifle through his belongings, returning with a phone number.

“This is the contact person I’m responsible to,” he said. One call after another was made and he was passed from one department to another. He learned that he needed to appear at the federal police building with his documents in hand before he would be allowed to go anywhere. While these calls were being made, Lori pointed towards the boy’s feet. I looked down to see his scarred, bare feet, with open wounds, crawling with what looked like thousands of little black bugs. How desperately this boy needed a bar of soap, a bath tub, clean clothes, and the Saviour who alone can offer him hope of a better life.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, Lord willing,” Lori said. “Get this taken care of in the morning, and we’ll come get you in the afternoon”. We were back at his corner Tuesday afternoon, only to find out he had done nothing in getting the necessary permission to leave. I was upset, thinking that Satan had been successful in holding tightly to this soul, and annoyed at what seemed to be a lost day.

We sat and chatted with him and the other boys working that corner for a while. In conversation they told us a wild story about the events of the previous night that involved another one of our boys.

“He owes money to drug dealers,” they said, “and they caught up with him last night”.

Six guys drove up in a car, got out, and surrounded João. They all had guns, which they attempted to shoot, but the guns misfired. No bullets came out. Seizing that moment of confusion, João bolted, but not before one of the men struck him in the face with his gun. Running away as fast as he could, he heard the guns again, but this time they were functioning, and the bullets were whizzing past him. He was wounded from being pistol whipped, but miraculously none of the bullets hit him, and he was able to get away.

We left the boys and were driving down the city street when Lori shouted, “There he is! Stop.” João had seen us drive past him, and had started to run behind the truck for all he was worth. We pulled to the side, found a place to park, and gave him a chance to catch up. The minute he saw us, he put his head down and started to weep. His whole body trembled as he told us that this was his second brush with death. Lori quoted this verse, “God speaks once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not…” We asked him if he recognized God speaking to him, and if so, what was he going to do about it.

“I have to get out of here,” he said. “They’re going to kill me; will you please help me?”
We offered the rehab, and he begged us to take him first thing Wednesday morning. He sat on the tailgate of our truck while Lori treated his wounds, then we all bowed together while Lori’s Dad prayed to God that this boy’s life would be spared, and his soul saved.

He was waiting for us on Wednesday morning, with his belongings packed in a backpack. He jumped in the truck asking if we would take him to say goodbye to his family. We found his mom, sisters, and brother coming down the street to meet us. João was out of the truck the moment he saw them. The three of us watched as he held his family close, weeping while he said farewell. Dad was with us again, so we asked if he would commend, this situation and this family, to God. We stood in a circle on the side of the road as he prayed for the spiritual and physical well-being of João and his family. While driving to the rehab we found out in conversation that fifty Reais ( roughly thirty American dollars) was the amount he owed to these dealers. Because he was unable to pay, João almost lost his life.

He wasn’t out of the truck long before one of the boys at the rehab recognized him as a sports figure he once looked up to. We found out that João was once a Brazilian surf champion. He had competed throughout Brazil and in Europe, too. He had had several sponsors and had earned decent money. How could anyone look at this boy now, living on the streets, beaten and running for his life and think that anything good comes from a life given to the desires of the flesh and the whims of the wicked one? Satan’s only interest in this boy is to ensure a ruined life, and guarantee, through the helpless captivity of his many vices, eternal destruction. How thrilling it is to see how persistent God is. How life-changing to realize the battle that is fought over one soul. And how reassuring to know that God is always at work, always present, and-this is the best part- always the victor! Yes! We are on the winning side.

We arrived at one of our stops on Thursday to be met by a soft-spoken boy; he came up to us both, wanting us to see how well his wounds were healing. Manoel had been involved in a street fight two weeks previous, that had left him with knife wounds. Lori had taken him aside and spent some time cleaning the wounds, putting some antibiotic ointment on them and bandaging them. Since then things had healed nicely. He too asked for help and said he wanted to go to the rehab. I took some time to make sure he understood that the only hope for him was God’s help.

“Think about it,” Lori said. “We’ll be back on Monday morning, Lord willing, and if you’re serious than we’ll be glad to take you.”

Manoel hung his head and quietly asked if there was any way we would be willing to take him right away. Lori looked my way and I said, “Let’s go.”

Thursday is a long and exhausting day, and by the time we reach that last stop at Igapó, the heat of the day has always gotten the best of us. I really didn’t want to make the ninety minute trip each way to the rehab. I opened the back door of the truck, pointed him towards the seat, and affirmed the promise we had made to God-to respond when any one of these kids asks for help. It would be a long night and we wouldn’t get back to the house ’till very late, but this boy asked God for help.

We have taken six boys off the street so far and I wish I could tell you they all received Christ and are going on well. Some lasted a few weeks, others just a few days, the point is that presently there’s only two of the six still going through the program. Drugs have an incredible hold on these boys. They will all tell you that they know the drugs will kill them. They will all say that they want nothing more than to be free of its power. But even those taken off the street, to a place where help is available, often can’t live without a fix and soon are found back living in the gutter of the street. Our hearts go out to these kids. We find ourselves on an emotional roller coaster, we want so much to help them, but we haven’t a clue what they’re going through. We feed them, hug those who need a hug, listen to their life of sorrow, pray with them that they recognize their need of God’s intervening power, remind them that God is their only hope and their only salvation, close the truck’s tailgate, and move on to the next stop. Please remember these kids in your prayers. They are infinitely lovable.

Dad rode with us all day and was a great help as we fed all the kids. Lori and I were a little worried that the heat of the day would be too much, but he was a real trooper. He had the opportunity (with Lori’s help) to speak to many of the boys, and we were able to gather all the kids, who respectfully bowed their heads, and listened while he prayed for theirs souls. It was fun watching him pass out the gospel papers. When all the kids at the stop had received a paper, he would turn to anyone else who was in walking distance of the truck. At one point, I saw him walking down a line of buses waiting for the light, passing up the papers to all the passengers. He loves the Gospel, and is amazed by the demand for the Word. What a pleasure it is to hand a gospel paper to someone here and they actually stop and thank you for it.

With a bank account now open, we were able to get started on the projects planned, Lord willing, for Aningas. I’ve been in the village pretty much all week working on the building we’ve been given permission to use. I hired a mason to do some work needed on the structure, and I’ve been building the units needed for a wood shop. I’ve designed some basic, simple furniture pieces that will be cheap and easy to build. I plan to teach anyone in Aningas who wants to learn a trade. Doing this, I’ll have a chance to work with the folks side by side. I also aim to start each lesson with a very short Gospel message and prayer. Please pray for this effort as the structure takes shape, the tools get set up, and I start to work with, and get to know, the people of Aningas better.

It has to be over one hundred degrees in that building every day, with absolutely no air movement of any kind. And the moment I’m through the door the sweating begins. William was laughing at the sight of me the other day. Within five minuets of work my shirt was soaked with sweat, and all the sawdust kicked up by the tools was sticking, making me look like a sawdust snow man. I bring a cooler with ice and water bottles, hoping the liquid will help me give the work a full day. But that heat saps your strength so fast that six hours is about all the gas I have. I hope my stamina increases as my body gets used to the heat, but right now I’m finding it very difficult for this forty-eight year old body to last eight hours.

Continue praying for the orphanage. We’re not sure of what to do, and when, so we know that we need to take that first step. We’ll start the procedure to purchase the land and see if the door is opened for this. God is faithful. We seem to waver an awful lot, but deep down, we know He’s faithful.

We’re all doing fine here, and all seems to be going well. We have so much to be thankful for; we daily enjoy the undeserved blessings given by a Father whose love is unconditional. Thank you all again for your daily prayers, and we ask that you continue to call on God for blessings in the north of Brazil.

The kids are doing fine, and every day William seems to show up with a new found friend. Last Sunday night he ran past his grandparents with a flashlight in hand, exclaiming as he ran that he was meeting his buddies on the beach to hunt crabs. I came down a while later asking where he was and was given the information he had passed on while he made his way out the gate onto the beach. I got a bit concerned and walked out on the beach to see if he was at least close by. There was no sign of him, so I came back. I grabbed one of the kids’ four wheelers, and made my way back out into the night looking for him. I hit the beach, took a left, and headed towards the river with the high beams cutting the fog that rolls onto the beach each night. I was scanning the sand as far as I could see looking for the bouncing light beam of William’s flashlight.

It happened so fast, I never saw it coming. I knew the river was close, but thought I had a few minutes worth of drive time. Surely the quad’s lights would give me fair warning and lots of time to make the left turn. Within a split second, I had left the river bank and launched into about four feet of water. For those of you who don’t know, quads float, and in this case, the river’s current was strongly influencing it to float out to sea. I broke the water surface in shock, and as soon as my brain processed what had just happened, I prayed, “God help me!” I started to fight the current pushing towards shore for all I was worth, constantly losing my footing as the sand slipped out from under my feet. The quad by this time had stalled, the lights went out plunging me into darkness, and I was alone in the pitch black. I could hardly see the shoreline that made up the river bank, but I pushed, kicked, and dragged the quad, in what I thought was the right direction.

I finally was able to get the machine back to shore, pulled it up onto the river bank, flopped down on the sand, and just lay there trying to catch my breath. I thanked God for His help. The bike wouldn’t start, so I had to leave it and I walked the mile back to the house, trying my best to blame this all on my son. He was waiting at home when I called him to the gate, shocked to see me coming back on foot.

“Get your quad and come help me! Caroline’s won’t start!” I said.

No words were spoken as we made the trek back to the river. He knew as soon as he saw the bike what had happened. Quietly he helped me latch the two quads together and we made our way back home. I pulled the plugs, drained the water from places it didn’t belong, washed off all the salt, and was so thankful when I heard the sweet sound of a gas engine when it fired up.

I want you all to know that William is still alive, he just got a lot of sleep that night! Thus the joys of raising a boy, as many of you know. He does, however, feel that I should shoulder some of blame for that evening’s events. I just keep repeating something my father always told me when I had him backed into a corner: “When I’m right, I’m right. When I’m wrong, I’m still right.” I had to listen in silence as Dad made that foolish statement, now I get to use it without William responding, and the day may come when William can use it as well.

I will end this now and bid you all farewell,
Love in Christ,
Mark, Lori, Caroline, and William,

Filed Under: Gospel, Orphanage, Street Work Tagged With: gospel, rehabilitation, Street Kids

February 6, 2010 – Devotional

February 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

Thought for the day:

I came across this phrase quoted by one of Job’s “comforters” and gave it thought while taking my Sunday walk. Listen to the statement he makes to Job, “He raises up the down and out, gives firm footing to those sinking in grief”. From that statement my mind went to the verse where we are promised that he will not try us beyond that which we are able, but with the trial provide a way of escape. Job was convinced that he had been pushed way past his threshold of pain, suffering, and grief, convinced that God really didn’t know his tolerance level and had long since passed that line. Much of what his comforters said was true, they just spoke facts about God with no heart for Job’s predicament.

I often wondered as I watch saints face awful trials, why them and not me? It seems at times that some are plagued, while others go through life seemingly untouched. I’m not claiming to understand the providence and wisdom of our God, but I’m able to find great comfort in the promise that before your head drops below the water’s surface, your feet will touch firm footing. The hope we have that no matter the trial, no matter how consumed we become with the seeming hopelessness of our crises, God says there’s an end. It’s the promise of the light at the end of the tunnel, the comforting fact that every trial is temporary, and the guarantee of an eternal life in God’s home, where we are welcomed. There, we are free of the hardships of life, introduced to humanity when they refused God their creator.

There will be no finger pointing when humanity faces the consequences brought on by sin, but what a contrast when it comes to our Saviour. Death, and all the sorrow that proceeds death, had no rights to the life of the Saviour. He could have easily marched through His life on earth completely immune and separate from the obvious turmoil and widespread suffering brought on by our sin.

“My heart is exceeding heavy,” he said. “Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow….. I looked for some to take pity…. for comforters, but there was none.”

I thought of this holy, pure, righteous One, who tells us the details of that storm of God’s divine wrath. Wave after wave broke over His holy soul. He sank beneath them, the wrath of the storm consuming the little craft. Every cavity is filled, and staying above the surface of this storm is becoming impossible. The grief, suffering, and loneliness which made up the ingredients of this righteous storm, overwhelming Him.

Can it be said that God knew His threshold, His boundary of tolerance? Will God spare Him and not try Him beyond that which He is able? With the trial, will He be provided with a way of escape?

I often think of this expression, though I openly confess I cannot understand it- the words are of the Saviour just before His head slips below the surface of the water, “I sink in deep mire where there is no standing.” No hope of salvation, no halting before it’s too late, no preventing the suffering from passing the boundary of His tolerance, no providing for Him a way of escape, NO FIRM FOOTING FOR HIM as He sank in the mire of our sin.

I began to feel very small, and found my heart full of thanksgiving, as again I understood that, ‘all my sins were laid on Jesus….God who knew them laid them on Him, and believing I go free.’ The wonder is that he spared not his Son, but delivered Him up for us all.

How amazing is the statement of Gods love. ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son.’ He lived His earthly life knowing all that would soon cross His path. He knew fully the cost of our forgiveness and salvation, but for the joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, despising the shame.

Filed Under: Devotional Tagged With: Christian living

January 25, 2010

February 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

Hi Everyone!

It’s been a while since I punched these keys, in an attempt to update you all on what God is doing here in Natal. I was quick to take advantage of the young people who came to help us in the work here, knowing that you all would enjoy hearing from them, as they described from their perspective, God’s work that they were exposed to in Natal. Unfortunately, they have all returned home, so once again it’s up to me to keep you all posted. Lori’s folks have arrived safely, and will spend some time with us. We were all so happy to see them, and the kids were thrilled to, once again, be with Papa and Nona.

It’s Monday morning and Lori and I are about to go out looking for one of the street kids, who asked last week if we would take him off the street, and give him an opportunity at the drug rehab. Before leaving I will attempt to at least get started on the past week’s events.

His name is Rafael. Our first exposure to this boy came in the form of a street fight. Rafael and Dennis were both rolling in the middle of a busy intersection, so I jumped in to break them up. I pushed one boy across the street and back to his window washing post. Rafael was pointed in the direction of our car, and as he approached the car, saw Lori and Caroline crying. He felt so bad that he had caused them to be so upset, and attempted to comfort them. “You scared us and broke our heart” Lori said, “and if we were heartbroken, imagine how the Saviour felt.” He left that day very bothered, and God spoke to him in a way that shook him to realize how desperate his life of drugs had become. “I live in an abandoned building with no electricity or water,” he said. “So, I spend the evenings reading the papers you leave each week by the light of a street lamp.”

He told us that as a result of the message contained in those papers, and the kindness we have shown to him, God convicted him and he asked Jesus into his heart. Pray for Rafael, that his words are sincere, and that in fact God has reached his heart. Pray that his rehab experience will be the beginning of a God transformed life. Would it not be awesome if he were used by God to reach his peers caught in Satan’s snares.

The rehab called us a week ago last Sunday to inform us that Bruno had checked himself out, determined that he was healed and had no need to stay in the program. He still had three months left, but pride and a rebellious spirit caused him to leave. We didn’t pursue him, but heard that he had gone to his Dad’s house in the Planalto. This Friday, we got a call from his stepmom saying that he had to return to the rehab, and could no longer stay at the house. We drove the hour trip through the city and arrived at his father’s house. We were ushered into a very humble home, and invited to sit around the kitchen table. His Dad poured his heart out as he told us that Bruno needed to go back where he would be under the influence of God’s power. “He can’t stay here, he’s not able to do this on his own, I can’t help him, his only hope of survival is God, please take him, he has to go back.”

For three hours we sought to reach him with the gospel. Again we explained why we had sought to help him. I said, “Bruno, we didn’t come to Brazil to get kids off drugs, we came to introduce you to the Lord Jesus Christ. You’re at a crossroads tonight and you will make a choice. Choose God and He’ll possess you, giving you the strength needed to defeat Satan and the addiction you battle. Choose your own way, and we can’t help you. We’ll commend you to God and go home. You have no hope without God, and you will fall to Satan’s power. The day will come when we hear that the police have gathered your remains off the street, and as your family grieves, you’ll begin your first day in eternity”.

His Dad was supporting our no-nonsense appeal, so Lori turned to ask if he was a child of God. You could imagine our surprise as he told us how God had reach and saved his soul. He told us that his mom was a Christian, and he was raised to hear the gospel, and as a young man he trusted Jesus as his Saviour.

It was a very proud boy that we returned to the rehab, who only went because he had no place else to go. We don’t believe that this boy is saved, and would ask that you pray that God breaks his spirit and saves his soul. I had visited the food warehouse that afternoon, and had filled the back of our rented truck with food for the pantry in Aningas, as well as food for the rehab. We arrived and I called, some of the boys standing around, to unload the truck, as Lori and I went inside to plead Bruno’s case. They told us that they had over seventy boys there and only a few of those were able to pay their way. They had promised God that they would never turn anyone away, who came to them for help. Food supplies were getting low this week, and nothing was coming in. While we were there, the cook came in the office to say that after supper had been served, and the boys had been fed, all the food was gone, and there was nothing for the next day. And then, we had arrived. They told us that they have had this happen so many times before, but they never get used to the ways by which God provides for those who seek to serve Him. They thanked us for being willing to let God use us.

The holidays were such a busy time that we never had a chance to go through our belongings and unpack the things we could use. Leaving the goods in cardboard boxes means exposing them to severe moisture and mold. There is so much moisture in the air that every morning I wipe up a puddle of water sitting at the base of our bedroom fan ( no AC here). I cleaned out three stores-of the plastic tubs with locking lids-so we could store the stuff not being used, and protect it from the extreme humidity. I took one whole wall of our car port and built cubbies that would accommodate the tubs so they could be neatly stored and protected.

I have a primitive wood shop in Aningas where I’ve been building whatever is needed, so I headed up there to build my shelf units. On the way I stopped and picked up ten bags of cement. The purchase was for a family in the village who had severe health issues. Nildete was walking with us one day, as Lori carried her little medical box, and we visited door to door. Nildete is employed by the government as their health official in the village. Her job is to visit each home and report their needs back to her superiors. Nothing comes of this, except for the fact that she has her finger on the pulse of the town folks. She took us to a home made up of Dad, Mom, and five children, all of whom have severe respiratory problems. She picked up the baby and held him close to us so we could hear his labored breathing. She explained that this is caused by living in a house that has dirt for a floor. The fix is simple, but they don’t have the resources, so they live with this condition. I thought how wrong and unfair this is, how unbalanced and upside down our world is, that a family should have to suffer for years when $120.00 American dollars, a quick stop, and a willingness to add this to the day’s agenda, and this family could be healthy again.

Pretty much all of the donated clothes sent by those who gave to the work here have been given out. We went through all the boxes and categorized the clothes and shoes by age groups. We supplied the orphanage, took clothes to the kids on the street, and brought a truck load into the village. It’s funny seeing the kids walking around with crocs, because no one else has them here. We showed up one day in the village and picked up Nildete, who took us to the families who were in dire need. Word quickly traveled through the village that we were there, and soon the truck bed was mobbed with people wanting what they really didn’t need.

Nildete closed up the boxes and said, “Let’s go, this is getting out of hand and the people who need this are not going to get it.” We took the clothes to the Galpão (the building we have been allowed to use) and locked everything inside. She let some time pass and allowed the town to settle down. Then, she invited one family in at a time to go through and pick out what they could use. Everybody wants everything you have, and will take it whether they need it or not. It’s been an active learning experience on how to work with extremely poor people. Please pray that God teaches us how to handle what He gives us and gives us wisdom and fairness, so that our effectiveness is not thwarted or our testimony stifled.

The street work in the city is a constant encouragement, as the numbers grow and the kids, who are reluctant to trust anyone, are beginning to really believe we care. It’s been six months of being out there every week. At first, they doubted us and wondered what our alternative motive was; now they are accepting us as servants of God and God only. In addition to feeding them each week, Lori carries her medical box and treats cuts, infections, skin rashes, tooth aches, and last week infected stab wounds on a boy brought to her who had been fighting.

God has handled all the hurdles that have stood between us and being able to stay here. The latest was opening a bank account. It took three banks, six months and an unbelievable list of required documents to prove that we didn’t come just to launder money (a real problem among those moving to Brazil). The bank account was a government requirement in order to receive a permanent visa. Also, it’s necessary for transferring moneys from the US to us here. Thank God, finally this has been accomplished. Also, we heard today that our visa application is progressing quickly and were given a link to track its progress online. When the lawyers and accountant originally explained the list of requirements for a visa, I remember being overwhelmed and wanting to quit, but we have watched God take on each requirement, one by one, and now the visa is all that’s left to be resolved.

I’ll end now thanking you all again for your support and faithfulness in prayer before the Father. We would like to be an encouragement to you all by assuring you that God is listening and answering, and wonderful things continue to develop, before our very eyes, as God works in a mighty way among souls here in the north of Brazil.
I’ll say bye for now with much Love in Christ,
Mark, Lori, Caroline, William, Dad and Mom.

Filed Under: Street Work, Vá Livre Update Tagged With: aningas, drugs, street work

Devotional – "Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice, shame on me"

February 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

My thought for today:

I have been going through First and Second Chronicles, looking at the history of all Israel and Judah kings. I’ve been impressed with that characteristic unique to God-a love that never quits. Over and over, this expression crossed my mind as I read the account of each King’s life.

Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice, shame on me. The point of that expression is that a person with an ounce of intelligence is not going to fall for the same thing twice. I know that God cannot be fooled, and when it comes to His intellect, we’ve no business attempting to draw any comparison between our finite thinking and the infinite creator of the universe. And yet, over and over again, His people slap their great God of deliverance in the face, by giving into idolatry and rebellion, to the point of bringing pagan idols into Solomon’s temple and worshipping them there. They push the God of creation to the sidelines and He waits there patiently, searching for the slightest inkling of repentance. Once seen, He immediately responds, as if this hasn’t happened before. He throws His arms around them, with true forgiveness and a spirit of rejoicing, so happy that they’ve come back. Do you think He’s caught by surprise when the next king arrives on the scene, described in scripture as an evil king, who turns the people back to idolatry? Do you think He’s shocked, when without even the slightest pause for consideration, His people willingly dive back into the vile sin of idol worship? Once again the God of the universe is sidelined and replaced with graven images.

Hezekiah comes on the scene, and it says that at that time there is not one living subject that has ever celebrated the passover. How far they had deliberately distanced themselves from Him. How patient, how kind, how tolerant, how long-suffering, how gracious and how loving God is. Once again He responds, when the king leads the people to repentance, and instills a desire in them to return to God and acknowledge the great miracle of deliverance by keeping the passover.

Listen to what this Godly king said as he made an appeal to the people of Judah: O Israelites! Come back to God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, so that He can return to you. Don’t repeat the sins of your ancestors who turned their backs on God, the God of their ancestors, who then brought them to ruin– you can see the ruin all around you. Don’t be pigheaded as your ancsetors were. Clasp God’s outstretched hand, come to His temple of holy worship, consecrated for all times. Serve God your God. You’ll no longer be in danger of His hot anger. If you come back, God is gracious and kind and won’t snub you. Come back and He’ll welcome you with open arms.

I, for one, am so thankful that my God is a forgiving God who will never give up, though disappointed by my life time after time. The only requirement for a restored relationship is a broken spirit and an open acknowledgment of sin. Then the open arms will once again come into view as you run to the embrace of your Saviour and God. You feel, once again, the comfort, protection, and peace, that comes from the warmth of His embrace, and you wonder why you ever thought it best to leave His presence.

“Behold I stand at the door and knock, if any man hear my voice and open the door I will come in to him and sup with him and he with me.”

Good night all.

Filed Under: Devotional Tagged With: Christian living

December 7, 2009 – Jeremy and Katie Lusk

February 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

Hi everyone!

Did ya all think I was becoming a slacker?. Last night we dropped off a young couple at the airport, and we were all very sad to see them go. They had spent the last ten days with us, and we had a awesome time with them. We used the ten days to show them the work God had given us, and to Introduce them to the north of Brazil. I asked them both if they would be willing to write the weeks update before they left us. They were both very excited about being able to give the report. I thought it would be nice for you all to hear about the work from this couple’s perspective. I hope you all enjoy reading this, as I did, and that your able to see this work through the eyes of Jeremy and Katie, and experience the impression that God made on their heart.

I’ll be back next week, till than I’ll say good night.
Love in Christ Mark!

————-

Oi amigos!

It’s Jeremy and Katie Lusk enjoying a quick visit with Mark and Lori. We came down for 10 days to see the work they are doing here in Brazil, and try to help out where we can. We’re almost to the end of our time here, and we feel Mark and Lori have shown us a great overview of their work. We went to Aningas a few times and visited some of the people door to door. We also went to the orphanage to see the work there and spend some time playing with the children. But the work with the street kids was where we were most useful. We helped with this twice and saw it grow from one week to the next. Because this ministry had the most impact on us, we’d like to give you a more detailed description of it.

CASE STUDY: STREET KIDS MINISTRY
Each week, Mark and Lori distribute sandwiches, juice and tracts to over 100 street kids all over Natal. They also spend time building a relationship with them and telling them about God and His love for them. Some have estimated that there are about 8 million of these orphaned or abandoned “disposable children” living on the streets in Brazilian cities. Most of them are teenagers, but some kids are as young as 6 or 7 years old. Some of the teenagers have children of their own living with them on the streets. These poor kids are totally destitute with virtually no possessions other than a pair of shorts, a tee shirt, and usually a pair of flip flops. I probably don’t need to mention that they are absolutely filthy. They sleep in cardboard boxes, under chairs, or just on the sidewalk and spend the day washing car windows, selling fruit or trinkets, begging, or stealing to try to eke out enough money to survive. Many of the kids are addicted to drugs or sniffing glue. They find that the high is necessary for the courage to survive in their violent environment. Mark and Lori have discovered that there is an informal network connecting all the street kids across the city. As they got to know some of the kids they learned of other intersections where even more kids live. This network of street kids has helped the ministry grow each week. We were happy to find out that the kids show the tracts to their friends that live on other intersections. One time we were stopped at a light and a street boy came up to the car window. Mark gave him 25 cents and a tract. He got very excited and said “You’re the guys that stop at Ponta Negra.” We weren’t giving out sandwiches so he must have recognized us by the tracts.

PREPARATION
The work really started the day before with a delivery of 480 sandwich rolls from the local bakery. Next we made a trip to the supermarket to pick up about 22 pounds each of sliced mortadella and mozzarella for the sandwiches. We also picked up ice and juice mix–enough for about 15 gallons. Many of the kids are barefoot so we bought some sandals to distribute and of course made sure we were well stocked with tracts in Portuguese. As Mark and Lori get to know the kids they uncover other physical needs to meet. They noticed one young mother bathing her baby by dunking him in a bucket of dirty water that the kids were using to wash car windows. The next week we gave her a little baby bath tub. Mark and Lori often make trips to the pharmacy to get ointments for rashes and other ailments, and they always keep a little medical kit in the car just in case.

The next morning we rolled into production mode slicing the rolls, stuffing them with meat and cheese, counting and loading them into plastic tubs. We mixed up the juice and poured it into insulated containers with nozzles to dispense at each stop. Mark has rigged up a system of storing everything in his little Fiat so when we roll up to a stop we can pop open the hatchback and one back door and start serving.

ON THE ROAD
We left the house by 11:30 and headed out to the first of 6 stops. The first stop is a large intersection near a tourist area called Ponta Negra. There are between 20 and 40 street kids working this intersection trying to get a coin or two for washing windows as the cars wait for a green light. There are also a few young mothers (one was pregnant), a couple of babies and some small children. These kids are often high from drugs or sniffing glue.

We drove both cars over the curb and onto the median and set up shop. We gave each kid two sandwiches, a cup of juice, and a tract to start with. Most of them came back for more sandwiches and juice. To the extent possible we didn’t limit their refills; the kids are virtually starving and almost never get enough food. Once everyone had eaten we gathered them all around while I spoke in the gospel briefly. I spoke about I Peter 5:7 and how God told us that He cares for us and also proved it by sending His Son to die for us. No one else cares for these kids so this verse seemed very poignant to me in this situation. I also explained that because they’re sinners, their sin has separated them from God and that their sin must be punished. I told them that God loves them and sent His Son, the Lord Jesus, to suffer the punishment for their sins. Lori translated the message and helped explain things that the kids didn’t understand. The kids listened intently to the whole message. They were fascinated to hear English, but they are also very interested in hearing about God and the gospel. Many of the kids thanked us for speaking to them and quite a few had questions about the message. Its obvious that God has been working in their hearts because they are so open to the gospel and want to talk about Him. The potential in the work with these kids is amazing.

No one has refused a tract yet so we took advantage of the tremendous amount of foot and motor traffic at these intersections by handing out tracts to everyone we could. When the traffic lights turned red Mark would walk among the cars, motorcycles, and buses handing tracts to everyone he could reach. Many of the kids can’t read, but they’ll keep the tract and have someone else read it to them. They collect all the tracts we give them, and they’ll tell you if they already have the one you’re trying to give them.

Once everyone had eaten and we’d spent time talking to the kids we packed up the cars and drove on to the next stop. We made 6 stops in different areas of the city. By the time we got home it was close to 6 and already dark. We had given out 480 sandwiches, 15 gallons of juice, about half a dozen pairs of sandals, and several hundred tracts.

OUR THOUGHTS
Mark and Lori spent much of the time at each stop finding out how the kids were doing and getting to know them better. We noticed how the kids’ faces light up as soon as they see Mark and Lori and how happy and grateful they are for the sandwiches and juice. But anyone can tell that it’s not just about the food; their physical needs do need to be met, but they are really aching to learn about God. The kids have told Mark and Lori several times that they see God when they see Mark and Lori. Through the love Mark and Lori show the kids, they are able to understand God’s love for them and the gospel. Because Mark and Lori know Portuguese and can answer the questions the kids have about God, it was most helpful for us to hand out sandwiches and fill juice cups, freeing Mark and Lori to talk with the kids.

You don’t need to know the language or the kids to hand out food and tracts, so this is a great work for any visitors. Not only are you are a part of the ministry and a good testimony, but you also get to witness God working. We’ll leave Brazil greatly encouraged by the hunger for God and growth potential in the street kids ministry. There’s still much to do and even more to pray about!!

Jeremy & Katie

Filed Under: Gospel, Street Work Tagged With: food, hunger, Street Kids, street work

November 11, 2009

February 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

Hi Everyone!

It’s Sunday afternoon, an absolutely perfect day, and I’m sitting looking out over our back yard. When I look to the right, I see the rock reef, which tells me it’s low tide; looking to the left I can watch the waves roll in, waves large enough to surf on. Whenever I view my surroundings, I’m so thankful to God for the little city of refuge He gave us to come home to every night. It even has walls around it with someone at the gate who has to agree before you get in.

Last Sunday was visit day at the rehab. center, and the boys asked if we would be coming to see them. As hard as it was to leave the refuge, we did make a point of getting there before visiting hours were over. They are both doing great and both have professed to be saved. I think, in their case, the fruits of salvation will be very obvious. There has been such a transformation in Bruno’s life, that the head of the rehab. asked that he give his testimony to a large group of people in the city. The rehab called to tell us about this event on Friday afternoon. They told us that it’s a privilege that only a few are given the opportunity to participate in. You earn this privilege by your behavior and the tangible evidences of salvation that the counselors see on a day to day basis. They asked us to bring some pictures of Bruno when we first met him on the street, (you would hardly recognize him as the same person) and a testimonial from us in the form of a letter that they would read to the audience before he spoke. They also asked that we bring a few candy treats as a gift to present to him afterwords. So, on Saturday, we went to the rehab., bringing the letter to Bruno that we had written and some chocolates for Bruno, for after he gave his testimony. (Seemed kind of like a Sunday School treat!)

While visiting the rehab., last Sunday night, Clessio had given us a letter that he had written to his family. He asked that we deliver it to his grandmother, Valmira. So, on Wednesday Lori and I went to find her little apartment and deliver this precious cargo. We found her with her daughter ( Clessio’s aunt) and both were so happy to see us. Once again, we found ourselves back, sitting at the same kitchen table, but this time the conversation was so different. As we spoke of Clessio and his progress, there was a constant smile on Valmira’s face. Over and over again she thanked God and gave Him the glory. I pulled the letter out that I had folded and tucked in my wallet. She handed it to her daughter and we all listened as the aunt began to read. To our surprise it was the boy’s testimony. He spoke of how Bruno and the counselors introduced him to Jesus. How he realized, for the first time, that only God could help him. He understood God’s tremendous love, in offering His Son so that help could be available to him personally. He told how he had confessed his sin, his helplessness, and asked Jesus into his heart. He spoke of how he now had God with him, and because of that he was going to overcome his addiction. He wanted very much to be the one who would reach out to his lost buddies on the street. He asked his grandmother to forgive him. He spoke to his whole family asking for their forgiveness also. He thanked God for bringing us into his life, realizing how far God went just to reach his lost soul. I was sitting across from the aunt, and could see that she was having a very difficult time reading the letter, at times she had to stop and collect her composure before going on. I believe that I witnessed, for the first time, from the same person, the great contrast between tears of heartache and tears of joy. They flowed freely down the grandmother’s cheeks as she listened to words she had been waiting all her life to hear. What a difference from the last time we sat at this table, watching Satan battle with the power of God for the rights to this precious soul. I left that little home convinced that there could be no experience on earth to rival being a part of what we just saw. I told God that if these experiences were all that make up the balance of what’s left of my life on earth, than I will leave this world a content man.

As we drove from the house, we passed Clessio’s old stomping grounds. While waiting at the light we were accosted by a young man who had seen us pull up. He jumped to his feet with a yelp and came running. He began begging us to do for him what we had done for the other two. “Please give me a chance, take me off the street, help me get off drugs. I want to know your God also”. We hadn’t told any of them about Bruno or Clessio, but evidently word was on the street. And having heard, this boy was also begging us for help. He was so excited to see us, he was laughing, and yelling, and singing, and his demeanor kinda of threw us; we weren’t sure how to respond. The others had come to us absolutely broken and desperate, speaking to us softly with tears in their eyes. This guy was bouncing like Tigger. We talked to him briefly and then left thinking it best to give him some time. We added that intersection to our Thursday route hoping we would run into him again. Sure enough, he was there, and seemingly, waiting for us. Immediately he was again asking, and this time we explained what the rehab. was all about. We told him we would be back at this location, God Willing, at 10-am Tuesday morning. If he was serious, then we would be willing to take him. Pray for Junior, that he genuinely wants to know the God who can save his soul and liberate him from Satan’s vices.

I would guess that we fed about two hundred young people on Thursday. They are now so open to hear the Gospel. And every stop has turned into an open air meeting with, in some cases, over fifty gathered around to hear the Gospel. The intersection that Junior works was a new stop for us and we had no idea how many kids worked that corner. We pulled up, opened the tail gate, and started passing out food. Man, they came out of every corner, having heard about our work (word has spread through the whole city), and hoping that we would come to visit them. They were so happy to see us, and by the time they had all been fed, we were cleaned out. I was amazed at how many kids between eight to sixteen worked that corner. I saw this location as another incredible opportunity to reach souls with the Gospel. We were finally able to pull away with an empty car and a full heart.

There is one young boy; he’s maybe about fifteen years old. God has placed this boy as a real burden on our heart. His body is a mess, his feet are full of sores. Every time we give him new sandals the older kids steal them. Someone had given him a new shirt and the kids stole that from him as well. So his present wardrobe is made up of one pair of very dirty board shorts. It doesn’t seem like he has any family. He sleeps on an old, filthy dirty mattress that he lays out on the sidewalk of the street corner that he works. He works this corner with one other boy that is maybe a few years older than him. He’s soft spoken, and so kind, and does his best to be happy when we arrive, but the pain is all over his face. He told us how much he likes us, and how he looks forward to our visits on Thursday. It seems that no one has ever shown him kindness. He seems so alone in a city that is thriving with people who don’t give him a second notice. We want so much to reach out and help this boy, but are not sure what we can do. We don’t think he has a drug problem and so don’t want to expose him to the rehab element. Pray that God gives us wisdom to do what’s right for his physical and spiritual well being.

Tuesday we spent with Cleide. We had put together a plan to help the orphanage present itself as a well-oiled machine to the judge at the next required meeting (end of this month). We spent the day going over the plan, and told Cleide how her job would become so much easer with the help of some organization and written rules of the house. We talked to her about putting a file together for each kid, with all his medical, schooling, and household responsibilities recorded and filed. We talked about the needs of the orphanage: structure, discipline, accountability, responsibilities for each child and help for each child with their schooling. We are fairly sure that these are some of the basics that the judge is looking for. We could see that she was struggling with the thought of all these tasks, but at the same time she knew it was very necessary. She has been alone and overwhelmed with this work for so long thats she’s desperate for anyone who’s willing to help. Once we knew she was on board we then made arrangements to stand by her as she explained the plan to her staff. From there, we’ll get the kids together and allow the staff to deliver the good news to them. Pray that implementing this plan goes smoothly, and so impresses the judge that he loosens his authority and allows her to continue to operate.

Pray as well for our permanent visa which is such a complicated ordeal. We met again on Wednesday with the professional people that we hired to help us with this process. It seems every time we’re with them we leave the office with a new list of requirements.

Monday was a holiday here, and so some of the Christians we know here asked if they could spend the day at our house. Sunday night we were told that twelve would be arriving in the morning, but this turned into thirty-eight on Monday. We love having them and I know that it’s a real treat for them to be on the beach and have access to the pool.
The high point of the day was a conversation that came up about headship. I was sitting with three of the elders that represented three different local churches, and they all wanted to know how I understood the subject. It was a very friendly, unassuming, relaxed, and comfortable conversation that came about very unexpectedly. They listened as I explained my understanding of scripture regarding this subject. God alone knows what will come of it, but after, when they had all gone home, and I began to think about the days events, I smiled to myself. I could see God’s fingerprints in the whole thing. As much as I have been wanting to have that discussion, I could never have arranged and brought it about the way that God did on Monday afternoon. Pray that this is the beginning of an open door, as well as open hearts, with a desire to understand and a willingness to obey God’s word.

I would say that this has pretty much covered the events of the past week. Again we ask for and covet your prayers. And with that I say to you all good night.

From my family to yours,
Love in Christ,
Mark, Lori, Caroline and William.

Filed Under: Street Work, Vá Livre Update Tagged With: clessio, drugs, rehabilitation, street work

November 11, 2009 – Devotional: One Man, One God

February 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

My thought for the day.
ONE MAN AND GOD!
I’ve been reading through the book of Judges and two characters have stood out as men used powerfully by God.

God’s people are under the control of the Midianites, allowed by God because of the evil idolatry that they seem to insist on being involved in. Once again, God’s heart is moved with compassion and He approaches this man named Gideon. It’s the angel of God that addresses Gideon while he’s sitting under an oak tree. He calls Gideon a mighty warrior and tells him he has been chosen by God to deliver Israel. Gideon responds by telling the angel that God has abandoned His people and left them to be ruled by Midian. “God’s not with us. Why, we haven’t seen anything of the God that our parents spoke of. Those awesome miracles of the past, beginning with their deliverance from Egypt, those are just old tales that have nothing to do with us. That God they so often spoke of has left us”. The angel corrects Gideon, “My boy, you’re very wrong, your God has not left, He has heard the cries of His people, and you’re the one chosen to deliver them from Midian’s oppression”. Gideon replied, “God is with me, my master? How, and with what, could I ever save Israel? Look at me, my clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I’m the runt of the litter.” God said to him, “I’ll be with you, believe me you’ll defeat Midian as one man.”

God was asking this man to obey him and to believe in something that, ’till now, he had never seen, only heard about as great stories of the past. “Gideon all I’m looking for is one man and obedience; with those two necessities in place, look out opposition.” Gideon obeyed and stepped out in faith on God’s promise. He faced those seasoned warriors with just three hundred men and God. He experienced, for the first time, how willing obedience is the conduit by which God’s power and purposes are worked out in this world.

He learned the truth behind Paul’s statement, “When I am weak, then am I strong.”
And then there was Samson. Here was a young man who knew firsthand, from birth, how great the triumphs accomplished in one man are, when he moves obediently in the Power of God. Obeying God in the Nazarite vow meant a God-given power that allowed him to almost wipe out the Philistine population single-handedly. No one had to convince him of the great accomplishment that could be achieved when one man works in concert with the mighty God. What a waste that he allowed the flesh to take precedence over obedience. A man who had been so useful, a man whose strength had convinced the enemy that Israel’s God was real and all powerful. He turned his back on God, allowed his hair to be cut in direct contradiction to the promised life long vow, and chose a woman over faithful service to his God.

One man had it and lost it because of selfish desires. The other had never experienced it, but chose to obey and believe, and so he had the thrill of usefulness as God’s power accomplished God’s purpose through “little old him”. I have no doubt that he lived off the high of that experience the rest of his life.

And then my thoughts went to a third character, my Saviour. What a perfect example of God and one man, one very unique man. Salvation, sins forgiven, Satan defeated, righteousness available, a relationship restored, an unbelievable hope, victory over the enemy, and on the list goes. One man, the man Christ Jesus, whose life was marked by obedience, even when obedience meant the death of the cross. Look at the accomplishment of an obedient life, when the greatest display of God’s power and love was seen by all, at Calvary. He bore our sin, faced God’s wrath, surrendered to, and defeated death, and provided, for a sinner like me, eternal salvation.

The next time God selects, and takes up, one man for His purposes, I want that one man to be me!

Filed Under: Devotional Tagged With: Christian living

October 25, 2009 – Devotional

February 25, 2010 By MarkP Leave a Comment

I’ll tell you what I was thinking about today. I read that passage at the beginning of Joshua when finally the children of Israel were led into the promised land. I was thinking that their call into, was as miraculous as their call out of. God did not split the Red Sea so they could escape Egypt and flounder the rest of their lives in the wilderness. We all agree that our moment of Salvation, when He called us out of Egypt, was above and beyond what we ever deserved. If it ended there and we were spared from what we deserved, we would be happy and ask no more. But He called us out of the world because He wants to call us into a world, and a work, that He has set aside just for us. He wanted His people in the land He had promised. A land where they could effectively put their God on display to a godless world, and live a life that would bring Glory to their God and saviour. When it came to where they were supposed to be, and what they were supposed to be doing, God wanted there to be no question in their minds, or hearts, now or ever, that they had followed God. The Levites hoisted the chest onto their shoulders and began to march towards the River Jordan. Everyone watches as their feet come in contact with the water and immediately it pushes back to expose the obvious path God wants them to take. Those men march to what would have been the deepest part of that river and stand still holding the chest to wait patiently. Every Israelite had to walk past that chest as they made their way through the river and then up the banks on the far side. They would arrive without so much as the soles of their shoes wet from what should have been a muddy river bed. There was no other explanation for this experience; every one of them would come to the same conclusion as they passed the chest, this was none other then their great God at work. They all had to look at what represented God’s presence as they walked by, and without hesitation acknowledge the power of their God in bringing them into the promised land. Because God knew that time would bring about doubts, he had twelve men (one from each tribe) shoulder a rock from the river bed, carrying them up onto the river bank. They made a pile that scripture says is there to this day.

When things begin to get difficult; when everything is not falling into place, the way we think God’s things should; when the questions begin; when the miracle becomes a faint memory; when you find yourself doubting the events of the past; when your kids hear the story and look at you like you have six heads, go back to the river bank and look at the tangible evidence God has left for a memorial. Remember that you are where you are, and you are doing what you are doing because God, out of all of humanity, called you to this place, to do this work, to display Him to a lost world, and live a life, in the midst of absolute defilement, that brings joy to the heart of God. God is so kind. He knows the weakness of the flesh and our tendency to question and wonder and doubt. He knows that time often dulls and distorts our ability to believe what we saw with our own eyes and heard with our own ears and experienced with our own God. He leaves behind tangible evidence so that we can know. He calms our fears. He gives us the courage to push on, because He called us here and He gave us this work to do. God performed a miracle when He saved my soul, and took me out of Egypt. God continues to perform miracles, both small and big, as He works. And these miracles are the tangible memorial that He leaves for me on the river bank because He knows my weakness and He never wants me to doubt that He is here with me all the way and I, I am just following Him.

Filed Under: Devotional Tagged With: Christian living

Brazil Update for 4/24/2010

March 16, 2010 – Update

February 6, 2010

February 6, 2010 – Devotional

January 25, 2010

Devotional – "Fool me once, shame on you; Fool me twice, shame on me"

December 7, 2009 – Jeremy and Katie Lusk

November 11, 2009

November 11, 2009 – Devotional: One Man, One God

October 25, 2009 – Devotional

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