Current Prayer Requests

These are some of the battles we’re facing…

ORPHANAGE:

Please pray for the future orphanage. We met with the developer hoping to at least get started on permits. He said it was pointless to go forward until we are recognized as a non-profit by the government here, as we are in the US. A lawyer has been working on that process for us, but it seems slow and endless. Please pray that God expedites what could be a very long and tedious process.

STREET WORK:

Pray for the street work. The dynamics of that work have changed greatly. There’s not the number of kids working the streets as there once was. Don’t be fooled into thinking things here are improving. They’ve just moved on, and we need to find them. We’ve lost count, but guess that about forty boys have been taken off the street and brought to the rehab. I would love to tell you that they’re all success stories, but that’s not the case. We seek for one lost soul, with the help and diligence of our Lord.

FAVELAS:

Pray for the work in the favelas. This work in the slums is ongoing. Along with the feedings, we have been doing all day first-aid care, either door to door or by setting up a table near our truck. We’ve been taking some of the teenagers from Aningas to help us. The conditions in the slums seem to become more desperate with time. There have been days when we have left the favelas and gone straight to the hospital with folks whose condition was beyond our help.

We had been purchasing medical supplies direct from a distributor. On our last visit, the owner informed her that the government had changed the rules and we will no longer be able to buy there. Please pray that the Lord finds us another resource.

ANINGAS & SUNDAY NIGHT GOSPEL:

Pray for Aningas. We have made some real inroads there. Many of the families have embraced us and are so thankful for the times when God, through us, has helped them. Satan is not pleased. There have been a couple of rumblings through the village that some are not pleased with these Americans. “Who do they think they are showing up and taking over?” God knows we’re walking a fine line. We do what we can, we help where we can, and we leave the politics of being accepted to God. It really has been humorous to watch God silence some of the naysayers using their own family members, who have started to attend on Sunday nights. Pray for Fatima, who is in the hospital. She recently began attending on Sunday nights, bringing her little daughter, Kathleen. Fatima’s mother is a devout Catholic and the loudest “rumbler.”

Our Sunday night effort has grown considerably. The kids are now rewarded for learning memory verses. We have changed our approach. We now focus on Bible verses rather than lessons. They need to understand that what we’re teaching is from God’s word. Some statements made they haven’t liked. They need to know that their argument is with God. When we show them what God says and where it is found, they have accepted the truth.

 

Gospel at Galpao

The wooden benches are in rows and the little kids pile in to listen to another gospel message. Some of the older girls come in and sit on the benches, leaning back against the cement wall of the Galpão. Curious faces peek in to see what’s going on.  Soon there’s a group of about forty kids and a few adults ready to listen. They sing songs from the booklets that Mark and Lori put together. They pick some of their favorites, “Foi Assim,” and “Jesus é Meu Amado,” songs that speak of the Savior who loves them and died for them.

Mark prays and Lori translates. She introduces her brother, Paul, as he steps up to speak to the kids.

“I have a great secret,” he says smiling. He leans in toward the front rows. “Can I share it with you? Can you keep a secret?”

Gabriella, a nine-year-old girl with full cheeks and warm brown eyes nods her head in response. She wants to know the secret. A few kids volunteer to go up to the front as Paul and Lori whisper the secret in their ears.

“Does everyone want to know my secret?” Paul asks. “Jesus loves me!” He reads Galatians 2:20. There’s a group of young boys sitting on one of Mark’s worktables in the back. They’re poking each other and laughing, but Paul keeps speaking. A dog wanders in, there’s music from the bar blasting next door, and there are people milling in and out of the door to the Galpão. But in the back row, there are middle-aged women listening. The little kids sitting on the wooden benches are listening, facing the front, waiting to hear why this verse matters.

“So many times people tell us that they love us,” Paul says, crossing his arms tight across his chest. “Sometimes they say that they will love us forever. But … they leave us heartbroken.”

Joab and Niete have their fingers curled around the edge of the bench. They’re both watching Paul. A little boy in front of them is playing with the edge of his shorts. Lori is translating while Paul continues.

“I look into the faces of young boys and girls and they want more than anything to know that someone loves me. What a disappointment when there is no one to love me.”

He doesn’t stop there. The little faces are still waiting to hear the truth of the verse. They want to know what fills that emptiness when everyone else leaves. When everyone else disappoints.

“That’s why it’s so wonderful tonight, my secret,” he says. “Because the very Son of God, Jesus, says He loves me. Not to love me and to leave me. Not to say He loves me only to hurt me. But when Jesus says He loves me, He will never leave me.”

When the lesson is done, the little girls sing the songs they’ve learned, standing up in front of the group to do the hand motions along with them. Then they clamor for juice and crackers before heading out the door.

Mark and Lori present a lesson every Sunday night around 7:30 in the Galpão. Younger kids make up a large percentage of the audience, and so the presentation has become much like a Sunday school lesson. This past Sunday night, Mark spoke about the serpent lifted up. He made a snake out of rope and wrapped it around PVC piping. Stephanie and I went around with another rope snake to “bite” the kids, squirting ketchup on their arms as blood, wrapping the “wounds” with old rags.

“Just look and live!” he told them, and Stephanie wiped the “blood” from their arms as they looked toward the snake on the pole.

Despite the distractions, the kids who decide they don’t want to sit through the message in its entirety, and the dogs that meander in and out, the gospel is preached faithfully every Sunday night in Aningas. During the week Mark and Lori can help in practical ways; Mark working with his guys, Lori making house visits, or preparing the recent Christmas feast. But come Sunday night, it’s always the clear gospel. Whatever else these men and women and children may need, they need Christ. Pray that as these messages continue, the interest they show will prove life changing in their acceptance of the Lord Jesus as Savior.

Feeding the Hungry

 

Beads of condensation roll off the plastic cling wrap as it’s peeled away from the white Styrofoam trays. Stacked high with 10 kg of mozzarella and 21 kg of mortadella, the four trays are ready to be sliced. This makes about 750 sandwiches, so some of it is refrigerated for the next day. With a firm hand, Inacia halves the mortadella rounds and quarters the mozzarella rectangles. She separates the pieces of meat and cheese into two silver bowls. Here the assembly line begins.

Inacia sets the two bowls at the head of the wooden picnic table on the back patio. Lori and Mark sit across from one another, each with a red plastic tray in front of them. Reaching for the bowls, they take one piece of mortadella and a slice of mozzarella to match. They pair them, cheese on top of meat, forming neat rows on the tray.

The girls sit next in line at the table, each with a giant green Tupperware bin to one side. They are filled with 500 fresh rolls sliced earlier that morning. Caroline grabs a roll in her left hand, and in her right, a pair of meat and cheese from off the red tray. She stuffs the roll and slides the sandwich down the table. Across from her, Katie does the same. When the sandwiches start to accumulate, I stack them into rows at the head of the table and begin to form a pyramid. We work efficiently, enjoying the morning breeze and the heat of the warm sun on our faces, while singing along to the music playing from Caroline’s iPod.

 

 

When Katie and Caroline have gone through half the rolls in their buckets, we combine what remains into a single Tupperware. I dismantle the pyramid on the table, taking sandwiches by twos and threes to form tight rows in the empty bin. At the base, only ten sandwiches fit across. As the bin widens, twelve or thirteen can fit without flattening them beyond recognition. The green bin holds six levels with four rows in each. Each level has extra space on one side for an additional nine sandwiches packed perpendicular to the four rows. Approximately 300 sandwiches fit into each green bin.

Once the bin has been completely loaded, we put the lid on, securing it with a bungee. While I package the last bin with the sandwiches, the others begin cleaning up. Mark and Lori bring the silver bowls and red trays to the kitchen while Katie sweeps the patio free of breadcrumbs and chunks of fallen mortadella. Caroline degreases the table, scrubbing vigorously with a yellow dishcloth.

 

 

We load the sandwich bins into the truck and fit the pickup bed with the juice apparatus. Each of three 20-liter water jugs is filled with 20 packets of powdered Tang mixed with fresh water. We’ll stop to buy ice at Pedro’s corner store on the way out to make sure the juice is cool and refreshing. Before leaving, we bow our heads by the truck and thank the Lord for the opportunity he has given us to prepare these simple sandwiches. We ask that He will bless the day and that the people will accept the food to fill their stomachs and more importantly, the Savior to fill their souls.

At each of the stops the people come running, their faces lighting up when they see the truck. Adults and children stand waiting for the food to fill their empty stomachs. At the back of the truck, Katie and Lori keep busy passing out juice and refilling the carafes. They hand out paperback booklets of the gospel of John to the older kids and adults. One young man tucks it into the back pocket of his shorts as he holds out his plastic cup for more juice. This will satisfy his thirst temporarily, but we pray he will reach for the word to quench the real thirst in his soul.

Caroline wraps two sandwiches in a gospel tract and places them into Isaque’s outstretched hand. His fingernails are caked with dirt and his feet infested with bichos de pé. But more than these physical ailments, in his eyes is an emptiness that only the Savior can fill. The gospel tract, titled Perdão Completo (Complete Pardon) will tell him of the Savior who loves him. It will tell him the Lord will never leave or forsake him and a peace he can have in Christ. The Lord Jesus gave his life on the cross to pay for his sins. He can be free from his life of guilt and misery if only he will accept God’s gift of salvation. We watch as he walks away and sits on the curb to eat his sandwiches. As he begins to read the tract, we silently pray that the truth will set him free.

Clessio

Clessio, one of the young men Mark and Lori brought to the Nova Aliança rehab center, is a testimony to the awesome power of God’s saving grace. Back in June when we first met him, he showed us around the rehab center and told us some of his story. He was addicted to crack when Mark and Lori met him on the streets. They paid the 400 reais to bring him there and continued to sponsor him during his stay. He accepted Christ shortly after arriving and became a truly shining example of a transformed life.

Nine months later he moved out of the rehab and he is now working as a mason’s apprentice near Igapó (the last street stop on Thursdays). He also has his working papers and insurance. But more than that he’s had the chance to go and witness to friends that he grew up with who are still living on the streets. Rafael asked about him one day when we gave him a ride. Lori was able to tell him how well Clessio is doing because of what the Lord Jesus has done for him. Luiz is another young guy Clessio grew up with on the streets. He’s hiding out somewhere because of a drug debt. If they find him, they’ll kill him. All for 230 reais.

Clessio has so much potential to lead more men and women to Christ. He was into drugs just as deep as many of these people on the streets still are. Now he can’t get enough of his Bible and he’s thrilled at the opportunity to tell others of his Savior. Even if he were the only life changed by this little testimony in Brazil it would be so worth it. What an awesome God we serve!

Sunday School Lessons

Layane’s sitting in the roped off section of the Galpão where we’ve hung a picture of pigs. She’s playing the part of the prodigal son, pretending to munch on cornhusks while lamenting the fact that all of her friends, Nadine, Cassio, and Manoelhio abandoned her when her ten reais inheritance was gone.

When the prodigal repents and comes home, Layane kneels in front of Rita, playing the father, who promptly tells her to stand up and wraps a robe (a blue towel) and a beautiful ring (one we borrowed from Caroline) on her finger.

For our English lessons this time around, Stephanie and I decided to focus more on the Bible stories. Instead of just telling the story in Portuguese and then having the class learn twenty new English words, we had them act out the story. This was much more engaging and entertaining for the kids and they were able to remember the story and the message in greater detail.

To start, we asked volunteers to come up to play the parts. Then Stephanie read the story from the Bible while I went around passing out the props and the lines for them to read as it went along. Even the shy kids were surprisingly enthusiastic, going so far as to vigorously throw the net over the side of our makeshift boat in the story of the disciples and the catch of 153 fish. After performing the little “teatro” we would go through the worksheet with them and practice a few English phrases that went along with the story for the day.

In the story of O Filho Perdido (the prodigal son) they learned the words run, spend, come, and forgive as well as how to use them in a sentence. For O Bom Samaritano (the good Samaritan) they learned hurt, help, and heal. For each lesson they also learned a corresponding gospel verse. By the end of our final week many of them were able to recite multiple verses from memory. We even offered five reais to someone who was willing to try and they all shouted “não quero, não quero cinco reais. Só os versículos!” They didn’t want the money. They just wanted a chance to try reciting the verses!

Again, we’ve been amazed at how receptive these kids are to listening and learning from the Bible. They see the truck coming through the main road in Aningas and five minutes later they’re all lined up on the benches ready for the lesson to begin. Some of the kids who were coming to the lessons last time we were here brought the little notebooks and paper to classes this time. They keep all of the worksheets and even some of the older kids (around 15 and 16) tuck the coloring pages away for later.

This month has flown by and it seems like we haven’t had enough time to spend with the kids in Aningas. Despite our looming departure in two days, we’re looking forward to going back one last time to say goodbye and to give the kids individual picture collages of memories from our time together.

These are smart kids, kids that hope to leave Aningas and do big things. Some of them want to come to the United States someday. But for right now, we have the chance to share our love of Christ with them. Please pray especially for some of these older girls who have shown an interest in the lessons and in learning more about the gospel on Sunday nights. We hope the lessons have been entertaining, but more importantly that they might bring spiritual blessing through the messages and verses they have learned.

The Gospel in Aningas

The Gospel being presented to the folks in Aningas

Neldete showing us one of the three new machines that the women were able to purchase!

Thanksgiving in Our Hearts

With Thanksgiving in Our Hearts

Where should I begin? What should I include and what should I leave out? So much has transpired since we visited home in July.

I would like to begin by speaking well of our Heavenly Father. God is a good God, His word is reliable, His promises are trustworthy, and He truly does work all things for good.

I really don’t want to rehash the assault on my family, other than to mention the great things that God has brought out of an awful experience.

It was early on a Thursday morning when we were awakened with the call that Lori’s truck had been recovered. Thursday was our street feeding day, but once again our plans were being turned upside-down. We had to take a dune buggy to reach the truck because it had been abandoned it in the middle of a sand dune park, quite a distance from a car accessible road. It had no wheels, no tires, no battery, no radio, no wipers, every fender was either smashed or damaged, and it was sitting on its side half buried in sand. The police let us know that it was our problem to recover it from the dunes and cautioned us that leaving it there another night would mean even more damage.

We didn’t know where to start, what to do, who would help us, or how we could get the car off the dunes and out of the park. We put the feeding off, no doubt disappointing a lot of kids, and went to work. How difficult would it be to buy tires, wheels, and a battery? We spent all day, going from one place to another, at times feeling like we were going around in circles, and nobody was able to fit the correct wheels to Lori’s truck. I remember looking up at the sun as the day was slipping away. I knew that at five-thirty it would be dark, and any hope of recovering the truck would be lost.

Finally, we were able to locate some used, junky-looking wheels, but they would work. We bought the tires, wheels, lug nuts, and battery, and headed back home as the sun began its descent.

Souza is a local buggy driver who, over the past year, has become a friend. He knows the dunes well, so we called to ask for his help. “I can’t help right now, I’m with clients on a buggy tour,” he said, “If I’m able to, I’ll come later”. Nielson, William, and I loaded the truck with tools, shovels, and gas and headed out, knowing that we would have to figure this out on our own.

The sand is really soft, so I didn’t even know if my truck would be able to climb the steep dunes. The sun was now dropping below the horizon and time was of the essence, so I put it in low 4×4 and went for it. I crowned the first dune, dropped into the valley, and then crowned the second. You can imagine my surprise as I  looked down to see Lori’s little truck surrounded with buggy drivers! Souza had dumped his clients, rounded up his buddies, and was waiting my arrival. For a moment I found myself with reason to be thankful as they jumped my truck, unloaded everything, and went to work to save our vehicle. It wasn’t long though before the worry came back. They informed me that the threading was wrong and none of the lug nuts would work.

We were out in the middle of nowhere, it was just about dark, and everything was now closed. I had nowhere to turn and started to feel very alone. I got down in the sand, with my back towards the men, looked to heaven and began to ask, “Why? Lord, I’m yours, my family is yours, our life is yours. Help!” I had done well till now, but no longer could I hold back the tears. I asked God how He planned on producing anything of value from the past week’s events. I asked Him how He could use  me with such wavering faith. My kids were scarred by the assault and were now living with real fear. I  was helpless, as the dad, to protect them. We had lost everything of value that we had. And now, I wasn’t even being helped after the fact, as I tried to get our life back on track. I needed God’s help to get the right lug nuts. I recommitted the car to God, and prayed for His help to get it out of the sand and back home before we lost it completely. It was a moment of real doubt, and I gave up.

I turned to let the men know we’d finish this the next day. But they hadn’t even noticed my little breakdown, they were feverishly making phone calls. “Let’s go,” Souza yelled, “We’re not done yet.”

We climbed in a buggy and headed out to find help. We went through the village, from one house to the next without any luck. Finally Souza called a friend who owned an auto parts store. The friend agreed to open up his place, and see if he could help us. He was able to come up with enough to put three lug nuts on each wheel. “Pay me if they work,” he said. Then, he locked up his store, and we  headed back to the dunes. I was overwhelmed by this effort to help, and felt a bit better.

We crossed the park entrance, climbed the first dune, and then veered wildly off course. The men had caught a fox in their headlights and felt there was time enough to chase him around the dunes. We arrived back at the truck, and it was pitch black. Souza’s friends had lit the truck with their buggy lights. They had dug it out of the sand and were ready and waiting our arrival. Within an hour, the tires, wheels, and battery were installed, and they had pulled the truck out of the sand pit and off the dunes. All I could say was thank you to these friends, hoping that some day I could repay them. With a great feeling of relief we all headed back home.

Would God answer the desperate prayer of a wavering Christian as he knelt in the sand and questioned God’s divine plan? Well, let me tell you about the events of the past few months, and you decide.

It was going great, we were working hard every day and making real progress. The land for the orphanage was just about cleared. I built gates and fences at the entrance, and was looking to get my hands on a backhoe so I could start breaking ground. The plan was to get one house up right away. We had asked the street kids if one day they might want to live with us. We told them why we believed God had sent us to them, telling them what we believed God had in mind. Since then, every time we saw them, they asked if our house was ready yet. “No,” I would respond, “But we’re working on it.

As quickly as this work began it was stopped, dead stopped. We were cleaned out, and didn’t have the means to keep going. Why would God stop the very thing He gave us to do, we wondered. After all this was His project, His work; He loves these kids more than we ever could. Doesn’t He want them off the street and under Godly influence as soon as possible? There seemed to be no barriers, no obstacles, nothing but green lights. We were told by everyone we talked to here to just go build it. Everyone in Aningas was excited about this great new project that had come to their little village.

Suddenly, I was sitting at home, the boys were not working, and, seemingly, nothing was getting done. How hard it was to be still. We were alone here with God. I had no place else to turn, no one to get advice from, so the answers I needed could only come from heaven. I did the only thing I could do, I dove into my Bible. I read with a desire to hear God. I read expecting answers. I wish I could put in writing the wonder it is when God starts to speak to your soul and warm your heart. Maybe on some level I can better relate to those two travelers, trudging along in a fog of confusion and doubts and sadness. Going home to Emmaus was their only option, there was no place else to go. Then the Savior arrived and began to open the Scripture to them. The immediate response to revealed truth is a warm heart and a renewed spirit.

God showed me Lamentations 3, and taught me how to praise Him in the storm. When the hard time comes, wait passionately, seek diligently, and hope expectantly. Wait for Him to right the wrongs, for He must. He can not fail. And as you wait, worship. Seek to find God in the trial, because you are not there alone. Hope expectantly because recovery, restoration, and help is on the way.

Oh how well I remember hitting bottom (says the writer). But there’s one other thing I remember, and remembering I keep a grip on hope. God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, His merciful love couldn’t have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great His faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say this over and over) He’s all I’ve got left.

I would love to share more, but suffice to say that God’s Word has been a real comfort to my heart as well as Lori’s. When I put my Bible down, I picked up my many notebooks filled with material that I had been neglecting. I would work hard at the language each day Eliel was teaching, but the next day I was back out working with the boys. I could tell that Eliel was a bit annoyed that I wasn’t being diligent every day in learning the language. One day he said, “Look Mark! I know this is difficult, I know you would rather be out working, but if God’s going to use you then you have to learn how to speak. You have helped me so many times as you shared the things God’s given you. Look around. All these souls, they need to hear God speak through you as I have.”

He’s been so excited the last few months seeing, as he puts it, real progress. One Saturday we had his family over to spend the day. We were in the pool, and I was talking to Eliel’s wife Eliane. Sophia, (their nine-year-old daughter who speaks some English) was swimming at the other end of the pool. I didn’t know she was listening till she yelled, “Wow Mark you’re really learning.” God took me out of Aningas, put me in a chair, and forced me to open the books. I’ve learned so much, but please keep praying! I’ve so much yet to learn.

Our landlord wanted to raise the rent, but we said no way. He kept hinting at it so finally Lori and I went to visit him at his office. We needed to discuss our concerns. Once again we explained why we were here. With so many needs, there was no way that we could commit more than what we were already spending for a home. We made it clear that if he insisted, we needed to start looking for another place to live. He didn’t back down, so on top of all we were doing, we also began to keep our eyes open for another house. We were coming up empty, finding nothing that would suit our family and the many coming to visit us and help in the work. After being assaulted, the kids made it clear that they were scared and wanted to find another place to live. This concern quickly moved finding a house to the top of our daily prayer list. What was once a relaxed and casual looking, became a diligent search.

Rogerio is a character, to say the lest. He lives in our little village, and presents himself as the local real estate broker, with his finger on the pulse of Jenipabú. He spends his days in the center of town, swinging from a hammock on the front porch of a house. He’s waiting for clients to come to him. He only has a bike so if you want to tour available property you had better be able to provide him with transportation.

I had gone into town to collect our mail at the little post office when he accosted me. Determined to sell us something, he never leaves us alone. I’m doing better with the language and most of the time can connect the dots and figure out what people are trying to say. My plan with him was simple, smile and nod till he runs out of words, then move on. He pummeled me with words, as he always does, I smiled and nodded as I always did, bid him fare well and made for home.

I had gone out for something first thing Saturday morning. When I returned, Lori and Caroline were gone. When they returned, Lori was a bit annoyed with me. “Why did you make an appointment to go and see houses with Rogerio if you weren’t going to be home?” Apparently, I had agreed to go house shopping Saturday morning. He had made arrangements with the home owners, and showed up at the house only to find me gone. Lori felt bad, and agreed to go, hoping it would make him feel better. “We saw one house that’s really clean,” Lori said. “It’s small, but the rent would be half what we’re spending now.” After she described the house I felt that I should go see it. “The house is also available for purchase, but something must not be right, because the price seems very low for ocean front property,” Lori said.

The next day I went to see the house with William. I saw tremendous potential and came back really feeling that we should pursue purchasing or renting the house. It is located about ten buildings down from where we’re living now. It’s in a tight little community of very secure homes, all of which are equipped with a security system that includes a Guard physically checking on the properties every two hours. The other home owners even had cameras installed so they could watch the road and beach front and pick up on anything suspicious. We spent the next few weeks continuing to look for a place to live, but also praying specifically about this house. Everyone we talked to felt the price to be very low for ocean front property. Dad and Mom arrived to spend the next five weeks with us. It was very comforting to have family with us, and more than once we took advantage of their shoulders. We told them about the kids wanting to move, and the house we had seen. We asked if they would come and look at the house with us. We made arrangements and were able to bring them over and get their take on the possibility of moving. Mom thought it was nice, though a very simple house. She could see that it was well maintained. But she also saw what would be involved if this house was to accommodate not only our family but also the many that come to visit. Dad immediately saw this as a  tremendous investment opportunity, and encouraged us to make an offer.

Once again it was a Saturday morning, and the persistent Rogerio showed up in the front yard unannounced. I could see that he wasn’t going away until we told him we weren’t interested or made an offer. We got the kids together, and while he waited on the patio, we commended this whole thing to God. “This will be Your house, so please tell us what to do,” I said. With that we had a quick family discussion. Together we agreed on a price that we believed, if accepted, would indicate to us that God was leading us. It was considerably less than the asking price and it was un negotiable.

We arrived at the house, sat with the home owner, and explained everything. We then made the offer.  She immediately refused. She then informed us that this was her daughter’s house, not hers. “She wants to sell because she never uses the house. She lives in France and the burden of maintenance has fallen on me. It’s her house, so it’s her decision.”

After that explanation, she made a call to France. Lori talked with the daughter and explained what we were doing in Brazil. “This house will be used for God and this is what we are comfortable to offer.” Lori said. “It’s a wonderful work you’re doing, the offer is very low, but let me talk it over with my husband and I’ll get back to Mom,” she said.

We were called a few days later with what the mom, Salette, said was good news. “My daughter has accepted your offer and only asked that you take care of Rogerio’s commission. Again a call was made to France and Lori talked with the daughter. She explained that we could not go one penny above what we felt comfortable offering, before God. The daughter said, “Sorry but no,” Lori thanked her for her time and hung up.

The house has a big, covered patio and we were all just sitting enjoying the ocean view and breeze, and so we were slow to get up.  Dad, Mom, and Lori were having a light conversation with Dona Salette while William and I were playing with her dog. The phone rang. It was France again. “I’ve thought about this and changed my mind,” the daughter said. “I want you to have my house, and I’ll sell for the offered price, no strings attached.”

This has not happened yet. We want to do our due diligence. We’ve had an engineer inspect the house, and an architect has been working on plans I drew, so we can see what changes will be needed, along with the cost. We also have a lawyer checking all the house’s documents. If this all checks out, then we would like to go forward, God Willing, and make this purchase. Please pray that God will continue to guide.

Ed and Gilvânia are a couple that we met as a result of our house hunting. We had seen the sign every time we drove by. It’s just about two miles from our present house. We knew that behind those walls was a house with a pool, and it was available for rent or sale. We hadn’t bothered before, but things had changed, and we knew that this needed to be pursued. We made arrangements to visit on a Saturday morning. Ed was waiting at the gate when we arrived. He greeted Dad, Mom, Lori, Caroline, and myself “Bom Dia”, but that was the last thing spoken in Portuguese. From then on, he spoke flawless English, as he and his wife made us feel very welcomed. A quick tour of the house and we knew that God had other reasons for this meeting. “My wife and I met and married in the US,” he said. “We’ve spent most of our life in New York. I received my engineering degree while there, and was involved in developing projects throughout the city. We came back to Brazil, knowing we would have to adapt to a completely different life, but the cost of your stressful life was too much for us. I’m a developer here, and Gilvânia is an attorney. Though our professions are hardly as financially rewarding as in your country, we really like the lifestyle here.”

I was itching to go back to work on the orphanage and saw this as an opportunity to talk to a local construction guy in my language, and pick his brains. He graciously answered all my questions, and I could see a real interest on his part to help.

While Dad, Ed, and I were having this conversation, the women were off in deep conversation with Gilvânia. “Ed,” she said, “Remember the people I told you I saw in the city that day feeding the street kids! Well, these are the people.” We had taken enough of their time and were leaving when they asked if we would come back and tell them more. We agreed and made arrangements to come back the next day.

Ed had his architect Antonio waiting for us when we arrived. “Tell us more,” they said. So we started from the beginning and laid it all out so they could see, if not understand, that we were here sent by God to do His work. “How far into the project are you,” Ed asked. “We purchased the land and cleared it,” I said. “We would have been well into construction but God shut us down.”

“Do you have a detailed plan?”  Ed asked. “Have you checked local building requirements, have you tested the soil, do you have permits, how about septic, water, and electricity?” To all of his questions I answered no. “I know these are all requirements at home,” I said, “But here I was told to just build it.”  “Everything required to build in the US is also required here,” he said. “The problem is, right now no one is enforcing it. The laws are in place, the north of Brazil is about to explode with development. Huge projects have been approved. All these laws are going to be enforced. If you go ahead without your permits in place, you will have invested a lot of time and money into something that could be easily stopped and shut down.”

He described a huge resort project he was presently involved in building, on the coast. When he told us where it was, we realized it was only a few miles from Aningas.  He had already gone through all the steps, he had already dealt with all the same people we would have to deal with. He and Antonio were so excited as they listened to God’s plans, and offered their expertise. It’s not hard” Ed said, ” it won’t take long, and it won’t cost much. We know how to do this, and we can help you through the process. We’ll help get the permits, we’ll help draw plans that work, and get them approved and stamped. I’ve found reliable contractors, and I’ve given them lots of work; I know they’ll help. I have already negotiated with all the local vendors and have volume prices. If you like the products we’re presently using, we’ll add your order to ours and get you the discounted prices. I’ll talk with the investors we’re currently working with, who knows, maybe they will be willing to help.”

Since then, we have met together many times. He took us to see his project, took us to meet some of his vendors, introduced us to his team, and has begun preliminary planning. We took them up to see the village of Aningas, and to look over the property. They loved the land, they told us it was perfect. As we drove through the village, all our friends wanted to stop us to say “hi”, as is always the case. “The Americans are very popular here,” Antonio remarked from the back seat.

God allowed us to face an awful experience. As a result, Aningas and the orphanage came to a screeching halt.  This is His Work, and it will go forward when He says so. We are only stewards of this Work, and our responsibility is to follow and obey God. We needed Ed and his wife; we just didn’t know it. What a disaster had we pushed forward, ignorant of all the requirements, and made a mess. But God wasn’t going to let that happen. As hard as it was to face, we experienced God step in and shut us down. He brought Ed and Gilvânia into our lives, and once again assured us that He’s in total control.

It’s been hard to watch my kids lose the innocence that life, in time, takes away. Dad’s not the tower of strength they thought he was. Mom and Dad can no longer guarantee that all will be well. William told his mom that he doesn’t like that he has to think this way now. “I just want to go back to the way I used to think and feel,” he said. Please pray for the kids, this has been especially hard on them.

I was struck while reading in Luke 15, as Jesus gives the description of what he calls a true disciple. It includes a willingness to be completely empty of self, so God and His will stands alone, a willingness to bear the cross of reproach that comes with your link to Christ, and a willingness to take what is dearest to you and let it go. Discipleship is linked with sacrifice, and without it we are described as salt with no flavor. Sometimes I think we deceive ourselves into thinking that it’s possible to be salt with less flavor. The Lord Jesus says, “no flavor.” Either you are a disciple or you are not. You are effective or of no effect. There are no in-betweens with God.

I watched the life of my family threatened; I almost lost what is dearest to me. Abraham was called to do the same and was willing. I want so much to be His disciple, but the question is, am I willing? I’ve watched as my kids have turned from Mom and Dad, deciding that the best one to trust here is God. They sleep in the same room now, and I listen sometimes as together they pray for God to watch over us all, before turning in for the night.

Caroline and I were out the other day and came across an awful accident. A man was laying in the street face up, his eyes were in that open stare, blood was coming from his mouth. “Dad! He’s dead,” Caroline gasped. Immediately, she turned off her music and began to pray out loud:  “God please save that man’s life, and if he has to die then please God, was he saved, can you take him to heaven? And oh God, please come close to his family.” She said “amen” then sobbed quietly as we made our way down the road.  Our children have been exposed to some very difficult things. It is probably just as well we didn’t know this before coming here. God knows best, and provides information on a need-to-know basis.  Please pray for our children, they are committed to this calling as much as Lori and I are, but they have been asked to grow up so fast.

We found Kilometer 6 just days after our assault. We had been told about it and finally were able to locate where these people lived. I’m going to post pictures on the blog because there’s no way I can describe this living environment with just words. The one thing that will be missing in the pictures is the awful smell. There are probably two hundred people, living in shelters erected from trash. We’re starting to learn their names but there are so many. There must be more than sixty children under ten living in this filth. They have no clothes to speak of, many only have underwear, and that has yet to be changed. They’re dirty, sick, and some of them run around with open sores. If they want to survive then they better be able to fend for themselves. Just last week we heard of a six-month old baby dying because bugs got into her skull, laid eggs, and ate away at the baby’s brain. The need is so great and what we do seems so inadequate. Please pray for this community; they need our God so desperately.

I won’t take the time to tell you how this happened, but we were approached by a local TV station. They picked a day and followed Lori and me and Dad and Mom as we did the feeding. We were interviewed and had a chance to speak well of our God and the work that He gave us to do. They filmed us while we fed the kids, than walked with us up and down amongst the cars as we passed out Bibles and tracts. Pray that God uses this for His glory. So often I worry that this kind of thing will exalt us, while the living God is overlooked. Pray that God will continue to help us decrease so that He may increase.

Currently, we spend two days per week on the streets, feeding and distributing Bibles, tracts, and the Gospel, with God’s promise that His Word will accomplish what it was sent out to do. We speak in the Gospel every Sunday night in Aningas. Sometimes we have a good number out including adults, but most times it’s all kids. There are four teenage girls that come faithfully and listen reverently. Pray for these girls that God reaches their heart with conviction. One day a week is spent with Eliel studying the language. He leaves having given me enough homework to keep me busy throughout the week. At least once a week we’ve been meeting up with Ed and his team as we continue to work towards building a home for these desperate children. Then, we fill in the gaps with the mountain of need here as best we can.

Time goes by so fast, and too much has passed without an update. I feel, in many ways, like we’ve just skimmed the surface, but I hope in some way that this helps you understand what God has been doing, so you are able to pray intelligently. For the many of you who reached out to us, and the many ways in which you did, thank you from the bottom of our hearts. God used you to encourage us, helping us to get back on our feet and push forward. We’re in this together, and lately I have keenly felt the reality of that truth. Please continue to pray for us as we remember you all at home.

We love you all very much in Christ.

Servants together for Christ,


Gospel in the Galpão

It smells like firewood and dirt and hot Brazilian air. We stop for ice, load the cooler and continue down the road to Aningas. We pull up to the Galpão and Mark backs in so the juice and the music face the open door. Hymns play in Portuguese and people come to see what’s going on. They move into the lit room and we spread the wooden benches into row.

Cold juice attracts a crowd and they come for a sip and a chat. Then slowly they come to sit. The kids pile into the front rows. The older guys stand back by the worktables and some people stay outside. Mark and Lori pull up a chair. Informal. Comfortable.
“We’re here to tell you about God.” He says.
Eyes forward, benches full. The kids whisper and poke and laugh, but we keep praying anyways. Adults walk in and out and talk out loud but we listen and close our eyes and talk to the Lord.
Last night we sang a hymn in Portuguese. Nildete’s voice leading, strong and sure. “E numa cruz por mim derramou sangue tão puro (and on the cross He shed his pure blood)…”
It was the second night that we packed up the juice, crackers, speakers, and bibles and drove to the village. The first time we came to Aningas (When Paul T and Andrew were still here) some of the people thought we were going to have a meeting. Mark’s guys have questions. Lizandra wants to know if she has a debt to clear with God. Can we have a bible study? Why are Mark and Lori here? Why do they come here and care anything about our mud huts and searching hearts?
“How can you be in Heaven?” Mark asks. Lori translates and we strain to hear over the whirring fans and whispers and noise outside.
A few mouths move with shy answers.
“Jesus Christ died for your sins. My sins.”
“Jesus Cristo morreu para seus pecados. Meus pecados.”

Fifty souls are in the Galpão. Fifty hearts needing a Savior. More stand outside, some peeking in, listening to the brief message.
We give out the bracelets. Gospel in a nutshell with the nutshell gospel verse printed on the key. Yellow for the streets of gold in heaven. Black for our sins that keep us from it. Red for the blood that cleanses. White for washing pure and spotless. Blue for clothed in robes of righteousness. Green for walking with new life. They read it, flip it over and read John 3:16. They tie a knot and the beads hang from their wrists reminding them of the message of salvation.
We give out crackers and more juice and the music plays again. More people come and talk and stand and listen. We give out all the bracelets to the 85 people who have come and they ask for more.
“Two weeks. Two weeks and we’ll be back again.”
7 pm. Sunday night. Crackers, juice, music, and a message. They’ll be waiting to hear it. Pray that ears might be opened, hearts might reach out, and lives might be changed.



Bracelets with a gospel message
Lori and Clessio – We visited him at his new location. It’s a smaller,
quieter area of the rehab down the street from the main center.
He likes it a lot better because there are fewer guys and it’s
easier for him to get alone and read his bible.
Some of the group from Aningas holding up their
new bibles that we gave them on the last day of class.
Baby Michel – He had a checkup today and is
healthy and strong. Lori bought him an outfit and
a little soccer ball so he can root for Brazil in the cup too.


How Do I Love Thee

We’re winding down here, before our trip home on Thursday, but today and tomorrow are packed with lists that are Brazil-defying. We have thrown the gauntlet at the Northeastern Brazil culture and are ramping up for another whirlwind of activity today and tomorrow.
Mark and I have been thinking about the blessings that we have seen, in what will be one year’s time on 8 July.
Here are some things for which to give thanks:
1. Cleide and 20 kids flourishing….Spent hours there yesterday making salvation bracelets with the kids-to take to the streets with us tomorrow-and playing,  and singing S.S. choruses! The farm is immaculate, organized…..Pinch me, God is real! A new baby arrived while we were there; 2 days old, no name.
2. Clessio, at the rehab., is now preaching to me. He calls me to quote scripture and tell me what it says in the Bible.
3. The cleaning of the Orphanage-site is starting! The land looks beautiful.
4. The kids on the street truly see God in us and really know it’s love that constrains us. To God only be all the Glory.
5. We have had TWO Sunday night Gospel efforts at the newly remodeled Galpão. The girls estimated 100 people at the second, this past Sunday night! We sang our first hymn with everyone this second week. It was really pathetic; OK, worse than pathetic, but you have to start somewhere! One of the teenage girls who has been in the lessons Steph. and Katie have had for the past month, asked me to study the Bible with her and a group of interested teenage girls!
6. Sunday School lessons have been established on Tuesdays and Fridays at 1:00 p.m. in Aningas. A steady 30 kids have been attending for one month now.
7. You have been so faithful in prayer and support for God’s work here.
To quote Elizabeth Barrett Browning-with God in mind:

“How Do I Love THEE
Let me count the ways….”

They really are innumerable.
We’re sorry that we won’t be able to see many of you during the 2 short weeks that we’ll be home, but we love and appreciate your e-mails and thought, and we covet your prayer.

Mark and Lori
xxoo.

The English lessons continue to grow…

We drive down the bumpy dirt road, avoiding the massive holes, crumbling edges of the bridge, and a bicyclist. We pass the mud huts, the small cement houses, and the abandoned church on our way to the Galpão. Natalia and Layane wave from behind the shade of a green tree. Nadine and Janaina stand by their door, peering out to see who is coming down the road. By the time we pull up in front of the building, the kids are piling up around us ready for their next lesson.

Each time we have a lesson the crowd of kids seems to grow. We started splitting the class up into two parts. Anyone ten and under colors pictures from Bible stories in the back of the room while the older kids stay up to participate in the lesson. I’ve never seen such excitement over a few printed coloring sheets and boxes of pencils. Today midway through the lesson ten more little kids poured in to join in the fun. Greens, blues, reds, and yellows spread out all over the table, some spilling on the floor. Content little faces, proud of their work, proud to hang them on the wall.

Yesterday four of the girls recited their verses in Portuguese. Natalia and Layane each said three, and Lizandra and Maria each recited one. They hugged their prizes for a picture, cuddling the beanie babies like precious treasures. We have another lesson planned for Friday Lord willing with the story of Joseph. We’ll have to print more coloring pages for the little kids…I ran out today when they kept pouring in, peering shyly around the corner of the door, wondering if there were pencils and paper enough for them.
Sometimes between coats of paint, Mark’s guys will wander from the other half of the Galpão to listen. They hear the group repeating the verse, first in Portuguese, then in English. They stop to watch the kids color and tape their pictures on the wall. Then sometimes when Stephanie and I are done we get to see their handiwork. We wander over to check out their tables, chairs, and their most recent project- bunk beds. Yesterday they were sanding them when we left and today we came in to find them primed for painting.

The Galpão is more than just four cement walls. It’s a place for learning, working, and creating. The kids, the guys, the women who come in to sew- they’re proud of what they do here. They’re excited to see what they can learn next, create next. Stephanie and I just wish we had more than one week left to be here with them.

Kate


Above: One of the guys’ finished products


Above: Advertising for Aningas furniture


Above: Building the bunk beds


Above: The girls who recited the verses


Above: Taking their first quiz


Above: Girls with the highest quiz scores


Above: Proud little artists