Sandra’s Story

Favela life is cruel; it’s made up of filth and violence, drugs and gangs, shootings and abuse of every kind. Sandra lost her husband to all of the above, a couple weeks ago.

Paulinho was a decent guy. Sandra says he didn’t use drugs. He worked very hard to support her and the five kids. When the 10 year old came home from school with crack in his backpack, Paulinho went to Alexandre, a local trafficker, and told him to leave his son alone. Alexandre replied, “I’ll get you for that.”

imageSo, on a Sunday night Alexandre and two other kids broke into their shack and fired 2 shots into Paulinho’s head. The three year old, Gustavo, tried to catch his dad, as he fell. Biel, the 10 year old, ran to help Gustavo. Alexandre fired again and hit Paulinho’s hand. The children were covered in blood.

Friday, we were there, in Monte Celeste, with sandwiches and juice, and the Word. When Sandra told us her story, we listened and hugged her and prayed with her. She questions God. She is both angry and lost. She has no means to provide for the five children.

We don’t have answers, but God does. Like so many other times here, we can only do the practical. We use our hands and our feet to show His love. So, yesterday Andrew and Stephanie, Mark and I brought her groceries and stayed a while. We can listen. We can hug those children. We can pray with them. Please pray with us for Sandra, left alone with five children: Biel, Clara Eliane, Raíssa, Valesca, and Gustavo.

Pray that Gustavo and Sandra will be able to sleep at night. Pray that Biel will stop feeling guilty that he caused his dad’s death. Pray that they will be safe, with Alexandre still living nearby. Pray that Sandra will be able to find work and move the children to another school.

Outstretched Arms

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She stretches out her arms to show scars. Red and scabbed over. Her brown eyes look up, a smile plays at the corners of her mouth. There’s dirt on her orange shirt. It looks like a drawing, something that must have been done with a big brown marker or paint or something other than a burn. She holds them there, thin little arms scarred with her daddy’s name and the word father. He burned the words there and she doesn’t know any better but to hold them out to Lori for some ointment.
This favela is called City of God. It looks a lot like Kilometer Six; partly finished government housing littered with trash, rotting fruit, and diseased animals. There are sandwiches and juice to fill hungry bellies that crowd around the truck parked in the shade of mango trees. More juice and more sandwiches to those that want more. This temporary fill, the bread that cuts the hollow feel for a little while, it isn’t going to fix those arms. There are lots of little faces and older faces and faces that are young but with such old eyes, and they hold onto bread and juice and the attention, a hug, a squeeze on the arm, the pictures being taken. They push and shove and crowd around the camera, smiling silly smiles and funny faces and then they want to see, see.
See me. She holds her arms out to show scars.
The truck with the lunch, and the cameras, and the ointment, it leaves. And the kids keep running barefoot in a slum, hoarding bottles of juice and playing tag and waiting until they see the dust kick up again next week. And it would be useless if that’s all it was. Just a temporary fix. But now they have the Word of God. New Testaments, the Gospel of John, all printed in Portuguese and given to everyone who will take one. And sometimes they take the Word and leave the sandwich. They come to the truck and they pass on the juice, but they heard there were bibles and they want one. And they read it and we remember the promise that His word, “will not return unto me void…it shall prosper” (Isaiah 55:1).
When Lori rubs ointment into the scars, another child holds the little girl’s hand. They crowd around and watch and say her daddy burned this into their skin. We’d like not to listen and to pretend it was a big brown marker or paint. But she has scars on her arms and scars inside that can’t be healed by anything but the scars from the outstretched arms of our Savior. His scars, they can fix permanently. They can come in and speak to a little child and tell of a daddy that doesn’t abuse or abandon. They speak of a perfect love that came to stretch arms out to a dark, lost world.
And the hands that reach out to gather up the little children now bear forever the marks of Calvary. And remind our hearts of the darkness, when Christ’s arms were outstretched to gather in the whosoever will, to be wounded and bruised for our sins that by His stripes we may be healed.
When the truck leaves, and bellies are hungry again and scabs peel, they still have His Word. His arms stretched out to show scars.

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Grace and Truth

Some things were just meant to go together, like peanut butter and jelly, bacon and eggs, Bonnie and Clyde, and Batman and Robin. Alone they are okay, but when they are combined…wow…the whole is far greater than the sum of its parts. While in Brazil last week God showed me that the same principle is true (and necessary) for any gospel outreach to be successful. What possibly could go hand in hand, be so intimately associated, that when combined the gospel becomes so attractive and people of all ages reach out for it? Grace and Truth.

John 1:14 tells us, “And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we saw His glory, glory as of the only begotten from the Father, full of grace and truth.” How was it that the Savior reached so many needy souls while here? Grace and Truth. How was it that you and I were saved? Grace and Truth. How then should we be presenting the gospel to others? Grace and Truth. “Grace” being kindness bestowed which one does not deserve, that which affords joy, pleasure and good-will. “And,” herenot meaning just that which connects things, but implying equivalence and balance. “Truth,” here being not just fact, but specifically, that which the gospel is.

I’m not sure why it took a 6500 mile trip to Natal, Brazil to teach me this lesson, but it did. I’d like to think it was a just change of scenery or perhaps the 10 days away from the magnetic pull of my Blackberry that was all God needed to speak to me…but I would only be deceiving myself if I allowed myself to think that. Rather, it was the removal from an environment of self-sufficiency and self-dependence (that I seem to cherish so much) that was necessary to break through my unyielding heart.

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While in Brazil I saw firsthand the synergy that occurs when Grace and Truth are employed together. I saw it everyday, in many different forms. While dropping off Christmas dinner at the orphanage in Pium I witnessed complete strangers stopping by unannounced to drop off bags of cement to be used for the completion of a new building. Cleide, who runs the orphanage, told us she had no idea who they were and that they were from another country and didn’t even speak Portuguese! While at the Rodoviária (bus station) street stop handing out rice, beans and juice I witnessed bus drivers pulling over (holding up traffic) and opening their doors to ask for the tracts and calendars, while those riding the bus reached out of their windows and banged the sides of the bus to get our attention so they could get the tracts themselves! While at the rehab center delivering turkeys and rice for Christmas dinner I watched as a church group sang hymns and opened the Bible during one of the three sessions a day the men receiving treatment there are required to listen to the gospel. While in the favela infamously called Mosquito, I witnessed over 100 men, woman and children pour out of their makeshift homes with various pots and pans and patiently stand in line in 100 °F temperatures to receive rice, beans, juice and a tract. While in Aningas, at the Sunday night gospel meeting, I witnessed children of all ages who likely never heard the gospel four years ago, recite and reference verses perfectly while happily answering questions about the Bible, God and salvation.

I can’t list all the accounts I saw firsthand where misfortune was met with Grace and Truth during my visit to Brazil. All I can attest to is that Grace and Truth works. Perhaps not in the timeframe that we here in the US would like to see results, but working according to God’s timing. People here have been saved by God’s grace because they have been afforded Grace and Truth. Time and effort has been taken to build relationships and in doing so doors have been opened (literally), providing an environment for God to come in and save. Sure, summer tents could be set up here, tracts could be delivered door to door and weekly gospel meetings could be held in various local towns, but they likely would be lacking the Grace and Truth that our Savior Himself prescribed. He could have healed the leper by simply saying the words, but instead He took the time to touch him. He could have healed Jarius’s daughter where He was, but instead He went to her home and taking her hand raised her from the dead. Sure, He could have sent the 5000 away with an eloquent message, but instead He fed them with a few loaves and fishes. In fact, He could have come from heaven and gone directly to the cross, but He came and “dwelt among us” for 30+ years in order to minister unto us. Why? Grace and Truth – they are inseparable, always together and they are the means of setting people free through Christ. John 8:36 tells us “if the Son (full of grace and truth) sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

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Here at home in the States we have gospel outreaches too. We reach out to our communities in a number of ways; tent meetings, vacation Bible schools, Sunday School, Sunday night gospel meetings, mall and fair kiosks, mailings, billboards and newspaper advertisements, rehab, prison and nursing home visits also mark our calendars. We see some interest; a few even respond and are saved by the grace of God. But why only a few? Are we not preaching the same gospel as our Savior and the Apostles? Yes, we are…but for the most part, these opportunities are sporadic, often annual occurrences, or provide only limited prospect for building relationships. We ask people to come to where we are, rarely follow-up with them, and almost never do anything for them without preaching at them first. For the most part our testimonies in our neighborhoods and workplaces, where relationships could be cultured and forged, are restricted to simple greetings and occasional invitations to hall functions. We like to think we “live the Truth” before them, in the hope that they will someday want to have what we portray we have. Would it be too bold to suggest that while we commendably profess the Truth we, generally speaking, are lacking in showing Grace… I know that I do. How about you?

Grace and Truth doesn’t only work in impoverished places like we find in Brazil. Take a moment to think of the relationships you have been a part of that have brought spiritual blessings. Perhaps a Sunday School student who after years of learning verses and Bible stories came to understand their personal need of a Savior. Maybe a friend at school, who over lunch time you have been telling them about Jesus and how He has changed your life, and this then led to them coming to hear the gospel and being saved. Perhaps a fellow worker, who after years of working side by side with you and showing yourself friendly, came to you in a time of crisis, and this then opened the door to speak a word in the gospel. How did these things come to be? Grace and Truth. Not all of us will have the opportunity to travel to Brazil and experience what I and others have experienced alongside Mark and Lori and Vá Livre. But all of us have the opportunity to exercise Grace and Truth amongst the many needy and unsaved where we live, within our own sphere of influence. May God give us the desire to do so today.

 

“For the Law was given through Moses; grace and truth were realized through Jesus Christ” (John 1:17).

Mark Williamson

A Note from Rick and Noreen Lawson

One of the first things that comes to mind when walking through the favela of Cambuim are the words of the Lord Jesus, “For you will have the poor with you always” (Matthew 11:6). But just how poor is poor? I went through streets of dirt and litter. The walls of the homes that lined the streets were an assortment of trash and scraps of wood, serving as a shelter for these poor people. The river that wound its way through the village consisted of runoff waste-water with a smell that stopped me in my tracks. 

The word “poor” is defined as having little or no money, goods, or other means of support. This brief list can never describe the feelings and emotions felt when actually meeting the faces of these people that survive in these conditions. Going on about how sad the situation is would only be repeating what has all ready been reported on this website. Instead let’s focus on the positive.

In Matthew 26:6 the Lord is found in the home of Simon the Leper. A woman of Bethany is there having an alabaster box of precious ointment and has poured it on the Lord’s head to anoint him for his burial. The gospel of John tells us that He was there with Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead, and that, “…many Jews went away, believing on the Lord Jesus” (John 12:1,11).This is the goal of the effort that is taking place in Cambuim. To show these destitute people the way to the Lord so they might also believe in Him.

We also read in the gospel of Mark, “She (Mary) has done what she could” (Mark 14:8). In Cambuim, attempting to give out a few sandwiches, a little juice, first aid, and some donated clothes in order to pass on God’s Word is all we can do. God has to do the rest.

God has promised a blessing in this work. For the Lord spoke of feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and said, “inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matthew 25:40).

 

Video Blog # 2- Favelas

 

Martin’s second video blog gives us a glimpse of the favelas of Brazil.

 

He lived here; He stayed.

* From a note by Gayle Procopio

Although I didn’t think I could add anything to what has already been written so beautifully and well by everyone else who has been here to help, I have been struck with one powerful thought over and over since the clinic day in Cambuim…

We went in to Cambuim, set up the table and tent and medical supplies, and tried to provide some help for the infinite variety of health problems of the people waiting for us. Trying to establish order, then maintain it so Lori, Noreen, and Nildete could work more effectively, was not easy, and I felt a little like the disciples who were trying to keep the crowd from thronging the Lord, or the children from swarming Him.

And He said, “No, let them come.”

Which got me thinking more and more about how He worked with everyone in need. He didn’t need anyone to diagnose the problems for Him – He went straight to the heart of their deepest needs spiritually as well as physically, and in His power changed their lives forever.

As we packed up after a few hours in the hot sun and dirt, got into the truck, cleaned our hands with the sanitizer, drank the now warm water in our bottles, and turned on the AC as we left to go to a comfortable, clean house not surrounded by garbage, without a horse or a goat in the entryway, I realized Jesus didn’t pack up and go away, and then return the next week. He left a place infinitely more wonderful than we can begin to imagine, loved by every being who inhabited it, and came to a world that was the equivalent of a favela – and worse, I think from the descriptions of Nazareth and the reputation it had, He was actually living in a favela.

Our sin and filth and garbage must have offended His senses daily – but He lived here; He stayed. And somehow, in a way we can’t understand, He learned from those years here in this polluted piece of His universe, and will never get tired of helping us overcome that filth every day.

But I kept thinking about having those very neighbors and co-residents of the favela, us, NOT be grateful and thankful, but reject Him, and ultimately kill Him, in spite of His coming to save, and in His everlasting love and mercy He died to be able to forgive us and remove us completely from that realm. So how can we not worship Him every time we think about that, every time we see a slum or favela, every time the dirt and need and conditions seem overwhelming!

 

Feeding Kilometer Six

More pictures from Kilometer Six

Real Reality TV!

The day we were followed by the TV crew at Kilometer Six

Kilometer Six

Here are the photographs of a new favela- Kilometer Six that one our street kids brought us to.
waiting for food and juice
main road. An old banner, advertising a mobile company’s newest deal, makes up the front wall of a house, across the “street”
livestock pen
entrance to a house
down a side street
animals roam inside, and outside, the houses
A river runs through it…it’s sewage.
one row of houses
inside
inside the house of one of our boys from Ponta Negra. Six people live here. Four sleep on the bed, one in the hammock….
and our boy sleeps on the dirt floor
just down the lane
This one looks good to me; it’s made with better materials.
a door without a house….yet
sitting on the banks of the sewage stream
They are filthy. There is no running water. They have no shoes. They are covered with sores and rashes, they are malnourished, filled with lice and bichus in their feet.
living room
Side street