Prayer Request

Lori’s brother Paul and his daughter Stephanie, along with Katie Brescia and Andrew Rockey will be here with us, Lord Willing, this week. We are very happy to have the help that all these extra hands and willing hearts will bring!
Lori and I made up an itinerary for the week to plan each day and allow the kids to know what would be happening, day to day. Every day, Lord Willing, we will be on the streets with the Gospel and three of the days we will have a meal to give the street kids. We left Thursday open for the distribution of the Gospels of John because it is a holiday here. We thought that since we don’t know how the holiday will affect the quantity of food needed, we’d concentrate on distributing the Word and the clothes that the kids are bringing from home. Just as a curiosity we asked what holiday it was on Thursday. It is St. John’s day!

When we ordered the Word from the Sociedade Biblica do Brasil, we were told that just the day before they had lowered the price of the Gospels of John to their cost, 60 centavos or 33 cents each. They had also lowered the cost of the one other item we enquired about, the New Testament, to Real$1 each, or 55 cents each. We ordered five thousand Gospels of John and five thousand New Testaments.
Although the money was wired to SBB’s bank account on the 19th of May, the Bradesco bank is withholding the money from SBB’s account until the government money exchange form is completed. The form registers the exchange, on the money wired, from dollars to reais. Please pray for this paperwork to be completed Monday morning, the Word to be shipped tomorrow, and the timely arrival of the Word here in Natal.
Please also pray for the power of His presence with us, minute by minute throughout the days to come. There is no way to express how your prayer lifts up our hands and strengthens us, but you need to know that it is felt.
Love in Christ,
Mark&Lori,
Caroline and William

 

Prayer Update

We just got home from the hospital. Michel is doing well; the surgery went without any problems, thank God! Right now, he is in ICU, where he will stay for two days, Lord Willing. After he had his surgery, Sara had the same surgery, and it went well. Both moms were relieved and really happy to have each other to talk to. João is in his room, waiting for his surgery tomorrow.

Thank you for sharing this burden with us in prayer. Just thinking of you at home, praying for Michel, Sara and João and their moms, made us long to see you and give you a big hug of thanks. But because we’re too far away for the hugs and such, we’ve done better; we’ve thanked God for you and we can count on Him to warm your hearts with His love.
Mark&Lori,
Caroline and William

Prayer Request – Baby Michel

(Maria & Baby Michel)


Michel Vieira dos Santos
Michel is just 24 months old. He was born with a hole in his heart and has been waiting for his surgery since his birth. Many of you have prayed for this child for months, agonizing with us as his tiny body struggled to breathe, turned more and more purple, and failed to grow. Last July, when we first arrived, we started to help his mom get the paperwork, tests, and approvals necessary for the government to authorize the surgery to save his life. If we were not so involved with this process, I would have a hard time believing the obstacles that arose at every turn during the past 11 months. But this past weekend, Michel’s mom, Maria, received the call summoning Michel to Natal, to the Hospital Promater, for surgery.
Yesterday, he was admitted to the hospital and a few final tests were done. This morning, I arrived at the hospital just in time to see Maria walking done the stairs toward me. She saw me and started to cry a little harder.
I’m lost,” she said. “I can’t find my way back to the room.”
“How wonderful of God to get me here just at the right time,” I told her as I hugged her.
We walked back to the room together and I stayed with her for a little while. We called the family in Aningas and gave them the news and then, together with the two other moms in the room and their two children, we closed our eyes and we spoke with the Great Physician. We asked Him to guide the surgeons as they operated on Michel. And we asked Him to watch over baby Sara, who would have the same surgery after Michel, and João, scheduled for surgery tomorrow.
Please pray for Michel and Sara and João. Pray for the three moms, sitting in that little room and waiting. And waiting.
Thank you,
Lori

Pictures and More!

This post contains over 40 pictures, some with captions below them explaining the photo. If you subscribe to the blog via email and the photos do not come through, please visit the blog online at:



Enjoy!



Dad praying with the street kids.



Dad with city workers, we feed them also



Dad giving the street kids a Gospel message



Our mobile canteen





Some of the circus kids





To-To lives on this skate board, begging on the street



John should be dead, however God spared him.
Drug dealers guns misfired, allowing him enough time to run.



Up to 550 sandwiches every Thursday.


Lori treating some of their wounds



Street kid washing a trucks windshield



Two young boys who live on the street



This boy can’t read, so Lori’s reading the gospel paper to him




Adriano road his bike fifteen miles to find us and tell us about his salvation,



This picture was taken on thursday – by sunday frank had been shot and killed.
(franks the middle kid)



The circus people’s trailers





The trucks that God provided us



The road to Aningas



William working on the Galpao



Paulo, one of my guys





Mateus, one of my guys



Leandro, one of my guys



Loved having my brother, was a great help







William with an Aningas creature









The finished sewing room in Galpao





Building completed



Luiz and his family were to be killed on Monday, because of a debt to drug dealers.
At the last minute, he was able to borrow $75.00 and his life for the moment was spared.
He has wife and two children.

Lori praying for his salvation and preservation

 




Aningas property owners, land for orphanage, outside town hall, father and son



Praying before going in to make land purchase



Inside town hall buying the land



Official documentation for proof of ownership, thank God another answered prayer



Moving one of the christians



Kids having fun on the beach, not all about work


The Street Children of Brazil | A Research Paper by Andrew Rockey, 2010

When Andrew contacted me and told me he was writing a research paper on the street kids of Brazil, I was thankful. There is so much injustice, here on the streets of Brazil. There are so many children crying for help. There is so much need, hunger, sickness and death that these kids face daily. Their voices echo in my ears and in my heart throughout my days and long into my nights.

My heart cries out to the Father of the fatherless, to the God of Justice, to the One Who sees everything. My heart has one cry: “Lord save them!” I can’t help the appeal that would have me begging God’s people, “Pray!” Please pray. Pray as if they were your children. Pray for their precious souls. And do not stop.

What Andrew has written will help us all to pray more intelligently. We will understand better the plight of these children and the obstacles that they face. We will realize that the only answer for these children lies with God.

I pray that God touches your heart and renews within you a love for Him, a love for others, and an appreciation for all we have in Him.

Lori


Devotional – The Formula for Christian Living

Mark Procopio

Proverbs 3: 5-12

I called this the formula for Christian living.

1. Trust God with all your heart.

This is an exclusive trust. The idea is that you have nothing else to fall back on, there is no plan B. You haven’t held out a small cavity of your heart for another, whom you also believe to be trustworthy. There’s no room for second-guessing, for reluctance, or doubt. With absolute confidence you moved forward. You stepped out on faith, and entrusted your eternal well-being to God’s finished work at Calvary.

Now, how about the day-to-day living? Does it often display an unwillingness to trust the God who cannot fail?

2. Lean not on your own understanding.  (Don’t try figuring out everything on your own.)

How redundant, redundant, to have a business partner who thinks the same as you, and comes to the same conclusions every single time. Who needs them? How wise a business man who chooses someone whose thought process is leaps ahead of his own and whose wisdom and sense are perfect.

Is it not an awesome thought to know that the moment we trusted Christ for eternal salvation we were provided a partner for life? A partner with all the answers to the most difficult thing we’ll ever face-LIFE. This friend of ours knows the end, the beginning, and everything in-between-and is always available when we’re faced with serious decision-making. What’s even more awesome than that, is His availability 24-7, to consult with us in even the most minute detail of our lives, and we never have to say, “Sorry for disturbing you.”

3. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go.

The “still small voice” wants us to weigh in on every detail. I think sometimes we get so caught up in the moment, allowing the chaos to bombard us. All the external voices batter our minds with their thoughts on what we should do and how we should do it. They’re so loud and forceful, and at times so obnoxious, that we give them precedence, listening to all they have to say, and allowing their voice to dictate the path we take. How important it is to pull yourself away from all the noise around you, and quietly listen for that still small voice that’s present within. How He wants to speak to us, and longs that we would hear, but He’ll not attempt to compete with the chaos around, hoping His voice is loud enough to trump the rest. God is asking each of us to make a deliberate choice to separate ourself from all the external influences and diligently seek the voice of God within. He, above all, has your best interest at heart. He sees the path for your life clearly and perfectly. He knows the next step you need to take, and all He wants from you is: listen and obey.

4. Don’t assume you know it all.

He’s the authority in every subject. I remember my Dad’s response to my teenage spouting. “Wow, I’m so thankful I have a son who knows everything, and is free to give his advise. How did I make it these fifty years without him?” Now I’m the old man with children who think they have it all figured out. It’s amazing how you had all this knowledge as a teenager, but as you got older and faced life’s experiences, that knowledge seemed to slip away. Now I’m the one pushing fifty and conscious of how little I know. How comforting to know that my resource for knowledge comes from One who knows it all-is Omniscient.

5. Run to God. Run from evil.

One is the run of the athlete striving to achieve the goal; the other is a desperate, terrifying dash for your life, from danger. I know that we’re given advise on two matters, but what’s so cool about the advice is that one effectively accomplishes the other. How much more positive and encouraging is the advice to constantly run towards God! How happy the Christian who never loses sight of his Savior’s face, and lives each day   determined to reach the goal and hear the “well done” of approval.

A person that is consumed with running to God may never even give thought to the fact that he is running away from evil. It’s not possible to run towards God without running from evil.

But, if we lose sight of the Savior’s face, we lose sight of our goal and we are found running away from God. That is a place of danger. It’s not long before we are unable to run fast enough. Trouble is all around us and there is no peace in our heart.

The choice is ours. With all my heart, I long to be found always running towards God and to be looking at my blessed Savior’s face-with His peace in my heart and the pure joy that is His Presence, felt in my life.

I hope that God uses this to help you, just as He has used it to help me.


 

Brazil Update for 4/24/2010

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.

March 16, 2010 – Update

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

February 6, 2010

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,

February 6, 2010 – Devotional

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.