Armor of God Points to Jesus

While walking down the road with the Lord this morning, the Holy Spirit began to show me how the armor of God that I wrote of in my last post, pointed to Jesus. The passage starting in Ephesians 6:10 speaks of six different parts of spiritual protection. The first, in 6:14, is the belt of truth. Jesus tells us in John 14:6 that He is the way, the truth, and the life. The next is the breastplate of righteousness. 1 Corinthians 1:30 says that Jesus has become our righteousness. Third are the feet shod with the gospel of peace. Mark 1:1 refers to the beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and He is our peace. (John 14:27) Fourth is the shield of faith. Our faith is in Jesus. (Romans 3:22, Galatians 2:16) Fifth we have the helmet of salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory. (2 Timothy 2:10) Finally we have the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. John chapter 1:1 says that Jesus is the Word. (cf. Verses 14,18) All of this points to Jesus, as Hebrews 12:2 tells us to do, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith. May we put our armor on daily.
Also would appreciate prayer for the regional gathering on September 10th as believers from the New England region gather to glorify God through Jesus Christ.

Defeated or armored up?

Woke up this morning with a strong sense of defeat. Sin, the flesh and the devil are tough, cunning enemies that don't give up, and my track record against them is not what I would want. Six days from today I am supposed to acknowledge a major role of responsibility in the Kingdom, something I am neither excited about nor especially gifted to do. The temptation is to accept defeat, not shoulder the responsibility, say that I can't do it. Thankfully the Holy Spirit is also speaking. "Armor up, rick." He is reminding me of the passage in Ephesians 6 in which He writes through Paul the apostle to "put on the whole armor of God." (v.11) This is not just stirring martial imagery but a powerful spiritual reality, if we obey the command. In particular He speaks to me of the "belt of truth." In John 17:17 Jesus says that the Word is truth. So what is the truth of the Word of God about me or any genuine believer in Christ? Romans 8:37 says that "in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loves us." Conquerors don't live in or accept defeat. Instead God leads us in triumphal procession in Christ. ( 2 Corinthians 2:14) Conquerors are "strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might." (Ephesians 6:10) They "share in suffering as a good soldier of Jesus Christ." (2 Timothy 2:3) "To the only wise God be glory forevermore through Jesus Christ! Amen." Romans 16:27 ESV)

Baptism

Last night God gave me the joy and the privilege of witnessing the baptism of a believer named Michael. He is a quiet brother in his mid-thirties who had truly counted the cost of following Christ before being baptized. Sadly we don't have many baptisms in the U.S. I wish many more people could have heard his testimony and experienced his joy. Thank you, God for the opportunity to see what you are doing in Michael's life.
After much inner wrestling God has persuaded me to make an all out effort to learn Portuguese. A brother and friend offered to give me the first level of the Rosetta Stone language software, I've been reading a Portuguese-English Bible for two months, and I intend to purchase a book on grammar. God has given me incentive, believers to practice with, and the time to work on it. Any and all prayers are appreciated as I have never successfully learned another language.
Muito obrigados to my Brazilian friends like Wellington, Marcelo, Wanderley, Marcio, Carlos and others that are following this blog. May our Lord Jesus give me revelation to encourage and bless you.
God has used my brothers John, Josh, Matt, Vinny, Gary, Russ & Sanford to bless and challenge me this week in one on one conversations. God is showing me more things in my life that I must die too. ( John 12:24)
"And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires." (Galatians 5:24 ESV)

Brazilian Retreat

Just returned this evening from a retreat with Brazilian believers in the state of New Hampshire. People came from Canada, the Boston area, and even the state of Virginia. Wonderful time of one on one, small group, and large group edification. Good food as always. The only thing missing was Guarana. Played tennis for about the third time in my life with predictable results. Fortunately my partner Juliano made up for my lack. Juliano and his wife Mariana are strong believers.
Had the privilege of meeting and talking with a fervent brother named Marcelo, who shared a powerful message from the Word Saturday evening about the Kingdom of God. God had given me a word about six days earlier on the alien and strangers' theme that was the subject of my last post. It is a poignant truth for those who are experiencing this in the natural.
Also had an opportunity to encourage a brother who does blue collar work that there is no shame in it in the eyes of God. Many of the apostles were fishermen, Paul made tents ( Acts 18:2b-3) and Jesus, God's own son was a carpenter. If they did manual labor surely it is not something for us to look down upon. On the contrary, we are told to work with our hands in 1 Thessalonians 4:11.

Aliens & Strangers

"Bendito o que vem em nome do Senhor" ( Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord) Luke 13:35b)Had a long conversation with two friends Sunday evening centering on the related themes of being aliens and strangers, and on our identity. I believe that our true identity is what God says that we are in Jesus Christ. For example, in Ephesians 5:1 believers in Christ are said to be "beloved children." The reality of being aliens and strangers on the earth is another part of that identity. The Holy Spirit, writing through Paul the apostle, says that our true citizenship is in heaven. (Philippians 3:20) While we may be citizens of the U.S. or Japan or Ghana in this life, that is a temporary reality. Those who have emigrated to another country, often with a different language and culture, often feel this sense of being alien and strange. After a period of years they may feel in between, no longer part of their former country but not at ease in the new. But all believers should have this sense in the spiritual realm. We no longer belong to the kingdom of this world; we are not yet living in the eternal realm. Hebrews 11:13-16 brings this out. "All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised, they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on the earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country- a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them." (NIV)
Peter applies this truth in 1 Peter 2:11. "Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires, which war against your soul."

Housatonic River

Received a call from our brother Nick the other night and made arrangements to go see him today. He is at home for the summer before he returns to college. We found a little park near the Housatonic River to fellowship in. I hadn't known that he lived near this river, which also flows through the town I grew up in farther north. It brought back memories of my brothers and I playing near it, and crossing it on a huge fallen log against my mother's wishes. My youngest brother fell in. In those days it was the second most polluted waterway in the U. S. Since then it has enjoyed considerable cleanup.
Nick & I prayed together for God to open doors for him. We also looked at some passages in Revelation. Chapter one contains a description of Christ which includes the phrase, "His voice as many waters." (v.15) We also looked at the last chapter (22) describing the river of life, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb, and on either side of the river the tree of life whose leaves provide healing for the nations. Thanks, Nick, for the example of your hunger to know God. And thank you Father that while the Housatonic River is a poor imitation of the river of life, it gives us some clue of that eternal watercourse.

Additional Brazil Notes

The primary Brazil report is contained in the previous post. This post has a few more reflections. The state of Minas Gerais is famed for its cheese based cuisine. One favorite was small bread balls with cooked cheese in the middle. Something favored by one of my hostesses was dulce ge leche, similar to pudding but richer.
Sandro told me that he could tell what part of Brazil a person was from by their accent. Those from the south often end their sentences with an expression that phonetically is neh, like the German "nein," or the French ne c'est pas. I think most Americans have a more generic accent.
Brazilian males are not hesitant to ask directions when in a car. I saw this two dozen times and in every case, whether the person was on foot, riding a bicycle, or in a car, they stopped and offered detailed directions. It was a fascinating confirmation of the cooperative nature of Brazilians.
At the youth retreat, late one night, I witnessed folk dancing. Over a hundred dancers participated in an intricate dance that lasted well over an hour. Unfortunately I was born with two left feet and didn't indulge.
On my return I was searching for Guarana, a soda drink very popular in Brazil made from fruit grown only in the Amazon. It tastes like apple flavored soda. I finally found some in a little store run by a Brazilian. He was familiar with the places that I had gone. His (accurate) comment was that it was very low stress in Brazil compared to the US.

Brazil Report

August 5, 2011



Note: This is a 20 page, 8,000 plus word post reflecting my recent three week trip to Brazil.

Note to Brazilian readers. I apologize for misspelled or forgotten names, any factual errors, and
any slang you may not understand


In June of 2009, after a long season of prayer, I felt led by God to relinquish the business that He had given me 27 years earlier, and to embark on a journey around the U. S. visiting relatives, friends, and brethren in house churches. When I returned a year later to my “home” house church, one of the new people that I met was a Brazilian-American named Marcio, his wife Janaina, and their children. We became friends, not least because I am too serious and Marcio has a good sense of humor. I found him well read, ( not too many people are familiar with the existence of Marcion, the 2nd century Gnostic) and a thinker. Although Marcio and his family returned to the Brazilian church that they had come from, we continued our friendship.
In December of last year, Marcio introduced me to his mentor, a brother from Brazil named Vinci. About three minutes later Vinci invited me to visit him in Brazil. It was my first exposure to a man whom God has used to profoundly influence my life. At the time, as a reserved New Englander, my first thought was, “I don't know you.” In March Vinci and his wife Samia visited the Boston area again, we had lunch together with Marcio and his family, and Vinci repeated the request. I began to take it seriously. After hemming and hawing, prayer, and discussion with the brothers in the E. Cambridge house church, I finally agreed. Marcio gave every possible help in the process- working on the tickets, telling me to go to the Hartford consulate rather than the one in Boston, arranging rides, giving all kinds of helpful advice, and purchasing a Portuguese-English Bible that proved very helpful on my trip.
Monday morning, July 11, after getting a few hours sleep at Marcio's house, we were up at 3:30. Marcio and his business parter Morillo would be traveling with me. Morillo, and his adult son Heraldo arrived shortly thereafter, and Heraldo drove us to the airport. We flew away at six a.m. to NYC, where we had a long layover before flying overnight to Rio. They would not let me pay for anything (food at the airport), the beginning of the extraordinary generosity and hospitality that I would experience from Brazilians throughout the journey. I am too big to fit comfortably in airplane seats, and have never been able to sleep in one although Marcio got us seats with extra leg room. Marcio was met by relatives in Rio, while Morillo and I waited, and then flew on to Vitoria, about an hour north.
My first experience of Brazil was favorable, as the taxi drivers were willing to take “No” for an answer, unlike Ghana, where I was practically mobbed until “rescued” by a policeman, who wanted a bribe for his services. Vinci, a warm, expressive, open hearted brother, arrived and drove me to his home and insisted on carrying my luggage. We drove through Vitoria, a sea port, actually an island, and came to the building where he lives. As we entered the elevator he described his home as a miracle, something which God had given him some twenty years prior at a very low cost. Twelve floors later we emerged into the penthouse suite, a beautiful place with a spectacular view. Everything I saw- the sea, the terrain, construction and colors of the houses, especially the red tile roofs, vegetation, and the weather reminded me forcefully of southern California. Their patio, complete with small pool and sauna, could have come straight from LA.
As I settled into the room of his younger son Asaph, I had no idea what was in store. Like me, Vinci enjoys walking and other exercise, so we took a long jaunt along the beach that night. I knew only two words of Portuguese at the time, thank you, and amen. Like most people working with a language not their own, Vinci understood more English than he could speak. His wife Samia is fluent. Despite this we enjoyed good fellowship on our stroll. It developed that he was about one and a half months older than I.
Later that evening Vinci's son Asaph, a young man who had resided in the U. K. for two years, took me to the Hill, a steep promontory in the city, that has been used for decades by Christians of all varieties to pray. I saw men in suits, women, young people, sitting, standing, kneeling in prayer all over this mountain. Asaph said that although not organized in any way or directed by any leader or church that there were always people praying there.
Previous to departure for Brazil I had little understanding of what I would do there other than a missionary conference to be held towards the end of my trip. During a time of prayer God had spoken that He would “stretch” me but had not given clarity on what that meant. It developed that Vinci, Samia, and a number of others (eventually about twenty people in five cars) would take a road trip into the interior to participate in a youth conference, and visit a number of churches in different cities. Until then Vinci was quite busy preparing for the trip.
However, Brazilian hospitality was ready to roll. Tuesday morning, July 12th, two young women who spoke English picked me up in a car and took me to a museum. I should say that most Brazilians do not speak English. The ones who do are typically young; the more fluent ones have spent time in English speaking countries, often the U. K. Women tend to be more verbal and linguistically oriented than men; I found very few males fluent in English. Valeska, a former journalist, who had lived in the U. K., and had volunteered to serve as a missionary in a dangerous Islamic country, often served as a translator for me, while her friend Caterine, who described herself as a scientist, was one of many people who drove me around Brazil. As we toured the museum, maintained by a company that had mined iron and shipped it through Vitoria in the old days, I found them to be personable, fervent believers who astonished with their interest and receptivity to what I had to say about Christ. The phenomenon of the younger generation interacting with the older was one that I would experience many times in Brazil, so unlike the relative lack of generational interaction that I find in the U. S. At the close of our afternoon together as they dropped me back at Vinci's house I said I felt they were almost like daughters.
Asaph took me to the home of friends, Getulio and Anna-Maria, accounting consultants, and love-filled believers. Anna-Maria had spent a year or so in Michigan, and both had enhanced their English watching American movies. They host one of the small groups that meet during the week, a crucial feature in the growth of the believers. God used Vinci and Samia to start the church in Vitoria thirty years earlier, and it had grown to more than a thousand people. After Getulio described the small group process I asked him what percentage of those that attended on a Sunday also participated in the small groups, anticipating an American type average of 15 or 20%. To my surprise he said that everyone participated in a small group, and that it was common for people to begin that way rather than with the larger service. Everyone also disciples someone else and is being discipled. I was aware of groups in the US that did this that produced very bad fruit so I said nothing and decided to observe.
Later that evening Asaph took me back to the Hill to pray. We walked to the top this time, where we had a panoramic, 360 degree view of Vitoria as we prayed. Seeing the lights twinkling below us, I had a sense of God looking down on all humanity from His vantage point in heaven. We prayed fervently for the city, thanking God for what He had done there, as Vitoria is a citadel of Christianity in Brazil.
Wednesday morning as I ate breakfast, Marcos, a young man, appeared to say that he would be taking me sight-seeing. We descended the elevator into a car driven by a young woman named Anna. I would become close to both during my trip. They took me to a Catholic convent on a high point which had been built by the first Portuguese priests. It was still active and commanded an excellent view of the city. Anna laughed a lot, full of alegria. ( Port. for joy or happiness) Afterwards we went to a little seaside cafe, where we had beverages. Perhaps I should say a little bit about Brazilian food at this point. Breakfast is usually light, with fruit juices like orange, peach, mango, a type of liquid yogurt like kefir and French bread about the size of a hot dog bun with melted cheese and a thin slice of lunch meat. This French bread was available at any meal. Usually sliced fruit like papaya or watermelon was also available. The mid day meal is the largest and usually offers white rice, beans, salad, some type of meat and a side dish. The evening meal, called “cafe” ( I think) is lighter. But there is always another meal coming.
Anna took me to her brother's high school, and then after some effort, dropped me off with a brother named Vito. GPS is available but unreliable and I didn't see any street maps. We finally prayed to ask God to help us find Vito, which He did. Vito was probably in his early 30's, spoke good English, and immediately took me to the equivalent of a Brazilian buffet restaurant. Like everyone else that I interacted with, he would not allow me to pay for anything. It transpired that he belonged to a different church, was hosting a group of young believers from Sao Paulo to the south, and that he was inviting me to go with him and some of the brothers to an outreach for recovering addicts that his father ministered at in the country. Vito, Gus, the only Asian I met in Brazil, and I drove out to the place, which housed about twenty-five men, a house mother and several children. The rest of the brothers followed in other vehicles. We gathered together and several of us had an opportunity to speak with the guys. Gus preached the gospel fervently (some of the residents were not believers) while a young brother who told me that he had learned English from watching the American TV show “Friends,” translated. This approach must have worked; he spoke very well with an American accent. Afterwards we began to pray for the residents, after Vito asked me how I wanted to do it, in deference to my age and presumed experience, something I would encounter on a regular basis in Brazil. Working with the translator I prayed for a number of people, including a young girl of about nine. One of the brothers asked if anyone wished to give their lives to the Lord and five men responded. I also prayed for Vito's father, Ebenezer, whom I sensed was spiritually weary.
On our way back to Vitoria I heard the story about a girl of 12 or 13 whom I had seen at the facility, and who struck me as the happiest person that I would see in Brazil. You have probably seen or know someone who has lost their leg, perhaps from the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan, and now has an artificial leg. This girl had two. Her mother, a crack addict, had set her on fire to kill her, and she had lost both legs to the knee. Outfitted with the new limbs, she had been adopted by the couple that runs the rehab.
That night I was finally joined by Bill, another American. Previous to coming to Brazil, I had no idea that another American had been invited. Then there was confusion about when he was actually arriving. It turned out that despite having never met before, we had a lot in common. We had both been hippies, were saved in the Jesus People Movement days in the West Coast in similar ministries, and that he had known the leader of the group that I was in. We had even been married in the same year. Since then our paths had diverged. He became a pastor, and eventually, a missionary, ministering in the Ukraine for many years before going on to India and other places. In fact, I have never met anyone who had been in more countries and done more things.
Asaph took us to the home of an elder for dinner. Paulo and his wife, whose name, sadly, I can't remember treated us like royalty. Their daughter Deborah had spent several years in the U. K., and she translated for us. I was struck by a phenomenon that I would see many times, the genuine affection of adult and younger children for their parents. Afterwards Asaph took Bill & I back to the Hill for prayer. We were joined by his cousin Phillipe, who had lived in the U.S. for awhile. He spoke good English and had been a professional musician.
Vinci's son Reuel, his wife Erica, and their infant son Mateus ( Eng. Mathew) live in Montreal but were visiting, using Canada's generous maternity leave policy. Many of the Brazilians that I met had Biblical names, Reuel being the alternate name for Jethro, the father-in-law of Moses. Because he had lived in the UK, US & Canada, and spoke good English I was able to discuss cultural and other questions with Reuel.
Vinci's wife Samia was born in Brazil of Lebanese ancestry. She has the amazing ability to switch back and forth from Portuguese to English and back again with rapidity. After decades of marriage she and Vinci still refer to each other as “Amor” ( My love) something I find endearing.
Asaph has a strong British accent from living for two years in a little village in Devon, which is quite incongruous coming from the mouth of a Latin looking guy. I was able to crack him up by calling him “mate.” Like all of the family he served us in any way possible, always looking out for our welfare.
The family also has two domestic servants. This was one of the cultural things that I had to adjust to, as every family with which we stayed had at least one. Marcia had been with the family for many years while her assistant, whose name may have been the Portuguese equivalent of Jemina, was new. They cooked, cleaned, did laundry and all the chores to keep the household going. In Brazil the servants do not live in but go home at night. I never noticed any friction. Later I learned that both of these women were Christians, and that some of the better paid servants were able to hire people to clean their own houses.
Finally on Friday the 15th we began our road trip. Brazil has twenty-six states of which I experienced only two. Vitoria is in Espirito Santo, which means Holy Spirit in English, a legacy of the early Catholic Portuguese explorers, and we were traveling deep into Minas Gerais (usually called Minas). We started early and rendezvoused at a cafe until we had five vehicles, twenty odd people, and a whole lot of discussion. I would experience this many times during my stay with decisions being made after long discussion by groups in (to me) incomprehensible Portuguese while I waited for the verdict. As it turned out most of the people traveling with us were young with little or no English.
Traveling by road in Brazil is a challenge. The highways between cities are two lane roads with no minimum speed limits, no emission standards, traffic ranging from animals to little motorbikes to cars to large trucks. The roads we traveled on to Minas were usually curvy and mountainous with rare passing lanes on the steepest inclines making it almost impossible to pass. Because of horrendous taxes which can double or even triple the purchase price of a vehicle, the cars are small and ours were full with usually five occupants each. As the tallest member of the party, they always insisted that I take the passenger seat next to the driver. People in different cultures don't think the same about things so I'll pass over Brazilian driving habits. We finally arrived that evening in a place called Santos Dumont, named after an aviation pioneer whom the Brazilians ( and the French) claim preceded the Wright Brothers in flight.
About three hundred youth, and perhaps a hundred older people joined us for a youth conference organized by a energetic, fervent evangelist named Paulo, who also served as the pastor of a church in a neighboring city called Juiz de Fora. The meeting that evening was characterized by loud worship music, fervent preaching, and a lot of individual prayer for one another. At some very late hour in the evening Vinci, Samia, Bill & I went to a “hotel”. I am early to bed, early to rise, and like my routine of a long walk in the morning. Maintaining this would prove impossible in Brazil.
Saturday morning we returned to the Youth conference for more worship, preaching and prayer. If I can distinguish between preaching, which is usually more proclaiming and evangelistic in nature, and teaching, which I understand to be more explanatory and appealing to the mind, then the message I heard Saturday morning, on the Sermon on the Mount, was the only real teaching I heard in Brazil. But we all have different gifts.
During the day I had the opportunity to interact with a number of young believers including Gilberto, who had traveled with us from Vitoria, and a teenager named Pedro. Both were extremely patient and persistent in their use of English. I have never successfully learned another language although at one point I could read French. During the trip I did my best to immerse myself in the Portuguese language. In the end I had four or five phrases in a total vocabulary of fifty or so words. So I used what little I knew and combined that with whatever English the other person knew, augmenting that with hand movements, facial expressions etc.
That evening I had the opportunity to preach with Bill following after me. Public preaching is not my specialty although I'm not afraid of it and enjoy the opportunities. I ended up with three chances over the trip, and because I believe strongly in the principle of giving thanks to God for what people do in His Name, I always began there. Then I talked about Biblical friendship and trust in God. Bill, a veteran preacher, followed with a call for commitment to Christ. Then we and others, prayed for many. I should also mention that I asked for prayer for the church in the US, which they did by using me as proxy.
Trekked back to the hotel after almost running into a white horse roaming across the road in the darkness. Sunday we had a long meeting of four and a half hours. Vinci and others preached. I spoke with a young man Daniel at lunch before embarking on a long car journey to Ponte Novo ( Eng. New Bridge), our next destination. We caravaned along for awhile and then stopped at a roadside cafe. I assumed this was just to eat but it turned out that my Brazilian friends were indulging the national obsession for football ( Eng. Soccer). The Brazil national team was playing rivals from Paraguay. This game went into double overtime and was settled by penalty kicks. ( I think) We got into Ponte Novo about 8 or 9 PM. ( Brazil does not use AM or PM but runs on a 24 hour clock like the US military) I was exhausted having only gotten about four hours sleep in each of the preceding three nights. Thankfully they bundled me off to the host home, and for the only time during the trip I had a room by myself. ( Thanks, Rafael)
The next day we went to a fazienda ( Eng. Farm) where we had more good food, I got to take a walk down a dusty country road, went swimming in a pool, and then, in company with a number of believers, walked to a waterfall. I should mention that in addition to the Brazilians we also had a man named Jamal from an Islamic country with us, and a young woman named Marta, of Polish descent, who lives in the UK, and who was making her second visit to Brazil. They were discussing the acquisition of language, a subject of interest to me as I was trying to learn words in Portuguese. To my amazement Marta said that it had taken only two months of immersion to be able to understand Portuguese. It turned out that she had begun learning English at six (in Poland), had studied Latin, and planned to begin learning Hebrew on her return to the UK. Jamal ended up going to Rio during our trip, but I had several enjoyable conversations with Marta, one of the few with the fluency in English for me to do so.
That evening Bill, Vinci, Samia, I & a brother whom I knew as Junior ( sorry, not his real name, which I don't know) a brother who served as an elder at another church in Vitoria, prayed for a woman dying of cancer. This poor sister had arms like sticks yet responded in faith to the compassion (particularly by Junior) and fervency of our prayers.
Then we had dinner at the home of Sodrer and Media (guessing on the spellings) our hosts in Ponte Novo. Brazilians enjoy joking, especially at the expense of the Argentines and the Portuguese. So they began telling jokes. Bill also had a wealth of jokes that he had heard in different countries. This went on for hours with everyone in hysterics. Finally I got up and said I was going to tell a joke, a visual about a blind man and a seeing-eye dog. ( After awhile anything is funny. You could say your name and people would laugh) They were so enraptured in the visual that Samia never translated the punch line.
The next morning Vinci took me to a gym owned by one couple in the church, and managed by another. Valdez is as big as I am, and his wife is extremely fit. Vinci and I began to do laps in the pool. After awhile the wife strolled by and asked if we wanted to do swim exercise. This was something that my mother used to do so I thought how hard can this be. I guess it depends on how you do it. An hour later I was done. We took a shower and then went up to the weight room where Asaph and his friend Rafael were working out. Bear in mind that Vinci and I are pushing sixty and these guys had an average age of twenty. Vinci and I worked with the machines for a time and then Asaph had us do stomach exercises. I finally croaked at this point.
In the evening we had a meeting and I preached first with Bill following. I began by saying that I had learned a new word in Portuguese that day, went through the whole story of my experiences at the gym, ended up laying down on the stage imitating the “crunches” and saying miserecordia (Eng. mercy), which brought down the house. ( Maybe you had to be there) Then I got up and spoke about the relationship between the Word of God and the Holy Spirit, using the Navigators' “hand illustration” at one point. Bill spoke on visions of heaven that he had received, and we ended up praying for many people. This last was an area where I had to trust God because I had no idea what the people needed prayer for via natural means, and they did not know what I was saying. Thankfully God knows all languages and all things.
I would be remiss in not mentioning Media, our hostess, a sister that spoke no English. She is the living embodiment of the Proverbs 31 woman. I have never witnessed anyone who serves like she does. One example will suffice. The last morning as we were about to leave I was standing in the kitchen. My sneakers were dirty because I had taken a walk down a country road the day before. She said something, ran down the stairs (they lived on the 4th floor), came back with a wet rag and getting on her hands and knees insisted on cleaning my shoes. I wanted to weep.
Wednesday morning, July 20, Bill and I continued our journey with a missionary couple, Sandro & Gislene to Mahanuacu. They had worked for some years in an Islamic country where Bill had met and ministered with them. They took us to the home of Gislene's sister Mary. Mary and her husband Moises have three daughters, Mariana, Raquel, and Livia. Livia, about twelve, played the piano for us including one poignant piece whose name I don't recall, which became my favorite. All this time the other people in the original group of twenty appeared and disappeared at varied intervals like characters in a play. Moises owns an apartment building and our party- Sandro, Gislene, their two sons Isaac, Nathan, Jamal, a young man named Mateus, Bill & I stayed in a vacant unit. Isaac, eighteen, reminded me of someone but I couldn't figure out who it was for two whole days.
That evening, Bill, Sandro & I went to a supermercado (Eng. Supermarket). Everything in Brazil is expensive, sometimes much more than in the States, because of Value Added Tax (VAT) added to everything by the socialist government. It can range from ten to ninety percent, and no one knows how much except the government bureaucrats. For example, gasoline, after conversion from metric to gallons, and reals to dollars is about $8.50 a gallon despite the fact that Brazil is energy independent and imports no oil.
Thursday morning we went to the shirt factory that Gislene's brother runs but he was not there. I'm told he prays with his workers and provides Christian counsel for those who wish. He loaned Sandro his car for the duration of his leave in Brazil. Previous to this we went to a small shop where we saw how they tested different grades of coffee. Two young men take turns sipping and then spitting out coffee from hundreds of little cups. Bill is a coffee aficionado (I don't drink it) and he was enthralled with the whole process. The city is a center of the coffee growing region in Minas. Then Sandro walked into the office of a large coffee company ( he didn't know anyone) and got us a half hour tour of the facility. We saw huge sacks of beans carried by forklift, the various machines used for sorting out pebbles and grading the beans by size down to the millimeter. Finally our guide gave Bill several kilos of beans and a hat apiece embossed with the company logo. It's hard for me to imagine someone in a US company doing that for three guys off the street.
In the afternoon Sandro took us to a state park where we climbed a jungle trail, saw more waterfalls, stopped at a gift shop where I found something for my son-in-law, and finally to a place where they sold coffee and chocolate. Bill had gone off to the banheiro ( Eng. Bathroom- a very useful word for someone with middle aged plumbing). Sandro & I were sitting at a table when a young boy, perhaps seven, wandered over, stopped, looked directly at me, said something in slow, precise Portuguese, and then returned to his parents, who were sitting at a table across the way. I asked Sandro what the boy had said. Now Sandro is a jokester, like all Brazilians, although he maintains that he is not like other Brazilians because he doesn't care about football (soccer). Anyway he said the boy said I looked like Albert Einstein. Now I've been told I looked like the Unabomber, and even Harrison Ford (once) but old Albert was a new one for me.
I had been saving up some questions for Valeska because of her intelligence and linguistic skills. I asked whether Brazil experiences racial tension. I had seen every shade from whitest white to blackest black. First I had to explain the concept and then she said no. I never saw any friction, and indeed many mixed race couples. Valeska herself had European and indigenous ( Indian) blood. Others I asked said the same thing. I also asked about the churches' outreach to the poor. (About 70% of Brazilians) She said the outreach was relational- to people at work or school. Since most of the people that I met were middle, upper middle, or rich class I assume there was little outreach to the poor.
On the following day Sandro & Gislene took us to the fazienda of her parents out in the country. Her dad was a retired pastor. The place was idyllic. I took a walk. They grow vegetables and keep five cattle which he summoned with a call I had never heard before for feeding. The parents' place was a year old. Across the way Gislene's aunt lived in a seventy year old house. She had a bigger garden and made clothes. Gislene's parent's maid kept staring at Bill & I. It turned out that she had never seen Americans before.
During one of these days we had a barbecue at Moises' home. Sandro specialized in this. They cook many varieties of meat with charcoal, cut them into bite sized pieces and hand them out. During this meal I met several of the local elders (three of the four in this city are doctors) and a brother named Carlos, of whom more later. Vinci & Samia appeared. Vinci took me to Moises' sauna, and after we were heated up we jumped into the pool. At some point that day I finally figured out that Isaac looked like a young Mel Gibson.
Saturday evening was the wedding of Debora, the daughter of one of the pastors, whose younger brother was the Pedro who had sought me out during the youth retreat, and Juan, brother to Marcos, my tour guide, who had traveled with us. Prior to leaving the US I had asked Marcio whether I needed to bring a suit. He said no, but he didn't know about the wedding, so I was severely under dressed even though Asaph had loaned me a tie. The only time it rained during my entire visit was as we drove up to the site, a situation that caused the bride to sit in a car for two hours while everything was moved from outdoors to inside, quite a feat when you have five hundred guests.
Brazilians love parties. Their culture is very relational, family and group oriented, happy, peaceful and without the stress and tension that one encounters so often in the US. Everyone seems to cooperate with one another. They love to dance. I told Clovis, the husband of one missionary family, that he should start a dance school- he was so good. At the wedding a couple named Marcos (not to be confused with the younger Marcos mentioned above) and Alexandra sat at the same table with us. Marcos is one of the most friendly guys I've ever met. He works in human resources for a large corporation and was being tutored by a retired American professor of literature twice a week.
The food was laid out buffet style in the center of the room with the tables for people on either side. At some point I noticed a group of young men going from table chanting something, with the tallest carrying something the size of a shirt box on his shoulder. It turned out that this reflected a wedding custom of collecting money for the honeymoon. Everyone who did so received a miniature tie. Bill & I left about ten but many stayed partying until three.
Our last day in Manhuacu we hung around as people came and went. If you have ever wondered what happened to all the VW Bugs and vans that populated the 70's in the US, I suspect many went to Brazil. I saw them everywhere. Sandro & Gislene took us to a Brazilian pizza restaurant. When we arrived at about 6 we didn't see any other customers. I thought maybe the place was about to close but Gislene said we were too early. Sure enough, as we ate, people began to filter in. Afterwards we went to another place where I had a six flavor milkshake. The life of an itinerant minister sure is hard. ( Joking)
Monday we made a long trip of seven or eight hours to an area north of Vitoria called Aracruz on the coast. We stayed in a housing development that looked like it came straight out of S. California. For many miles the ocean was a weird brown color which I'm told has something to do with the underlying coral and sediment washed down by the rivers. Many of our original party went back to her homes in the Vitoria area but we gained three new missionary families. Clovis and Joella had worked with Sandro and Gislene but the other two families worked with indigenous tribal people. William and his wife lived on the edge of the Amazon jungle and had to make lengthy journeys by boat to reach the tribe they were working with. Laert & Solange and their four children (15 to 22) worked with a different tribe. In both cases they had to learn the Indian language, create a written language, teach the people to read, and then translate the Bible from Portuguese into the tribal language. Amazing. The second couple's children had attended an American missionary school and their English was fluent, particularly that of Rebecca, the oldest daughter.
Gilmar and Ana Louisa, our hosts, gave up their entire house for the missionaries, even sleeping elsewhere. This was also the home city of Marcos and Alexandra, who also hosted some people. Vinci came that night, and we heard testimonies from William and Laert about God working with the tribes.
The next day we walked along the beach. Carlos, an elder from the church in Brasilia, the capital, spent a lot of time with Bill and I, exercising his English. Carlos was the most humble brother that I met in Brazil, always serving, giving, and eager to help. It amazed me to discover that he was a lieut. Colonel in the Brazilian Air Force, in command of one thousand people.
The following day about twenty of us went to a pool for swim exercise. Nothing could illustrate the cultural differences between the Brazilians who like to do everything in groups- doing swim exercise together, whooping with laughter- and the American doing laps by himself. Vinci came again that evening. I had gotten sick in Manahuacu and was always tired during the last half of the trip.
One of the sisters in the Aracruz church was the director of an animal hospital and our whole group trekked there one afternoon. We saw a video of their work in rescuing animals from poachers and then had a tour of the facility. We saw numerous birds, monkeys, several snakes and even an ocelot whose throaty rumbling reminded me of a motor humming.
Language and cultural difficulties hit me during this period. I had picked up some words but ended up listening to hours of incomprehensible Portuguese. Sandro did another barbecue at the home of Marcos. Marcos was always friendly and helpful, eager to improve his English but did need to work during the day. Gilmar and Ana showed exemplary hospitality. Finally on Thursday we traveled back to Vitoria, a fifty mile journey that took two hours. This was the beginning of the missionary conference, the primary thing that I had been invited to participate in, and I was already worn out. Laert spoke that evening. Asaph devised a better method to facilitate translation where the translator spoke into a microphone wired to two headsets for Bill & me. I also saw Marcio for the first time since Rio.
On Friday there was extended worship with dancing- mosh pit style for the most part, and Clovis, Tiago, Wellington from Canada & Bill shared. Tiago ( James in English) and his wife Liliana had stayed with us in Aracruz before coming south to Vitoria. They were going to go to a dangerous Islamic country. Despite his limited English Tiago and I clicked, and Liliana translated. The meeting went into the afternoon, we had a brief respite and then back at six. I forget who shared that evening but it went quite late. Afterwards we went out to eat at a place that specialized in soup. While we were sitting there at 1:30 in the morning a man on a bicycle came by selling home made bread. He was a brother in the Lord and Samia purchased a loaf. I thought only in Brazil do people stay up late enough to make selling bread in the middle of the night a viable arrangement.
Saturday morning we were up early again and away to the conference. I recall Sergio, a brother who had planted a church in Germany as the first of many speakers. In theory each one had a forty minute slot but typically went well over that limit. In addition the church practices participatory meetings, which with a thousand potential participants can get real interesting. Again we went late. I believe that this was the morning that parents and children were urged to pray for one another. As family groups gathered together I noticed a young man standing off to my left alone. After a moment I approached and asked if I could pray for him. He agreed and we prayed for each other.
One of the more challenging dynamics that I faced was the reality of the clergy/laity distinction. I don't know what my friend had told Vinci but they decided that I was a pastor. As a result I received special privileges, like going to the front of the lunch line. This was difficult because on the one hand, I was Vinci's guest and did not want to offend him; on the other, I don't believe in the clergy/laity divide, and don't want special privileges. That day I said I was a brother and waited in the line like everyone else. Eventually I saw the young man I had prayed with. We sat down on the floor, another no-no for a “pastor” and talked. His name was Joao Paulo ( John-Paul) and he played the piano. That afternoon they also divided the men and the women ( far more of the latter). A brother named Amaury spoke to the men and Gislene to the women.
That afternoon I told Vinci that I couldn't stay out late again if he wanted me to preach Sunday morning, as I was scheduled to do. At six when they left for the evening I was alone for the first time. I doubt that Brazilians have a concept of alone time or personal space. By this point I was craving it. This is not to say that one is better than the other, just that it represents a major difference between the two cultures. Despite getting the time I was so wired, and also ill, that I couldn't sleep for the second night in a row. The others came in about 2:45 AM & I was glad that I had insisted on staying behind. They had gone to the home of one of the elders after the meeting for a meal.
Although I didn't sleep that night either I was ready to go Sunday morning. I don't often receive what I understand to be prophetic words but the Lord had given me something in the shower the night before. After group prayer and extended worship, Vinci invited me up to speak. I should give credit to my various translators i.e. Portuguese into English, including Carlos, Marcos, another brother named Tiago, and, on Sunday a young woman named Susanna who had spent a number of years in the US, and had the best English that I heard in Brazil. Maybe a little too good. When my friend Paulo, one of the elders, was urging me to join the mosh pit dancing and I hesitated, Susanna said, “When in Rome.”
Anyway I asked Vinci to pray for me, which he did. I began as I had with all of my previous messages, giving thanks to various parties for their service to God and to me. I suggested that the Christian life was not always dramatic but included hard work, suffering, potential persecution and other hardship. I touched on the importance of our brotherhood in Christ. Then I challenged the audience, many of them young, to take the spiritual “baton” that the Lord had shown me prophetically. For centuries Europe was the center of world Christianity. Then that shifted to the US. I felt the Lord saying that it was the turn of Brazil to take the baton even as a runner in a relay race. I hope they understood what I was saying. I should say that Vinci's wife Samia, an experienced translator, did all of my public preaching, translating English into Portuguese. Out of curiosity I asked on Sunday how many could understand most of what I said before the translation. About one in eight, almost all young, raised their hands.
Finally I spoke a little about the ministry of apostleship. If we can accept the crucial distinction between the original apostolic company through whom the Word of God came ( the New Testament), and subsequent generations who do not have this ability, then I hope we can accept the idea of modern day apostolic ministry. In any event I have prayed for years for God to either raise up apostolic ministry in New England, or show me someone walking in that gift, ( Ephesians 4:11) or bring someone to the area. I have not personally recognized anyone as an apostle since my mentor, Jim Durkin, passed into heaven in 1996. However, the Lord put this on my heart regarding Vinci. I believe he has the fruit, in his personal and family life, in his ministry throughout Brazil and in many places in the world, and the vision encompassing the whole world that is one of the marks of an apostle. Most compelling is the fact that I have not met anyone in forty years of walking with Christ that has shown a more complete or powerful love of God to me personally. So I concluded by publicly recognizing him in that gift, something brethren in Brazil had done previously. Then I invited him up to preach, which he did with grace and power for almost two hours.
At the conclusion of the conference said good-bye to many people who had become friends over the three weeks. I felt so strongly about young Marcos, and Anna, whom I had seen at the wedding and at the conference that I told both that I would be proud to be their dad, although I knew they had good parents. Eventually we went back to Vinci's home where Samia hosted a number of female visitors from Porto Alegre ( Happy Port) one of whom had sufficient English to want to hear my testimony of how I came to Christ. Asaph also had a number of his friends over as well. Some of us ended up in the pool & Vinci & I & Carlos tried the sauna.
Monday, my last full day, Vinci & I took a long walk along the beach, met one of the Porto Alegre sisters, went to the beach, met Sandro & Gislene. Brazilians do everything in groups. They bought a fresh coconut for me. The vendor hacks off the top with a machete, inserts a straw and gives it to you to drink. Vinci and Samia took Bill and I out to lunch where we had an area specialty called “multeca' a fish stew dish with additional sauces, one inside a coconut along with the white rice. Then Bill packed up to go with Sandro & Gislene as he would be staying an additional week in Brazil.
I had been trying to purchase a gift for my daughter that she couldn't find in the US, and after a number of misfires was finally able to work that out. Faithful sisters Caterine, Valeska, and Cida came by at 5 and took me to a mall. When I went inside I felt like I had been transported from Brazil into the US. It even had a food court where we met two brothers and discussed the theme of the Bride of Christ. After much consultation we even got the gift.
Then they took me to a small group meeting. I had been hoping for this because it seemed to be at the heart of what God was doing. I had mentioned the idea to Getulio and Anna-Maria during the conference and they had very graciously worked it out for my last night in Brazil. They hosted about a dozen people in their home. It was a very relational time characterized by worship, fellowship and prayer with the Word interspersed between. Thank you God.
Tuesday morning Vinci took me to a bi-weekly pastors meeting. He asked Valeska to translate so she and her friend Cida, both of whom had lived in the UK., came with us. Valeska was a very conscientious translator and humble servant during my entire visit. Some of the brothers I had met before. I was particularly glad to see Ebenezer, the father of Vito, who ministered to the addicts. Samia made sure that I was fed before leaving for the airport where we met Marcio & Morillo.
We took leave of Vinci, whom I hope to see in November, and made the short flight to Rio. Something that would take about a day's drive is only an hour's flight. Then we had a long layover. I had lost my voice, could barely talk and was not feeling well. Morillo kept me fed. I finally left on the overnight to Miami about 10. Marcio & Morillo went to NY a little later. I was seated next to a tiny young woman who curled up in her seat and slept while I, crammed into mine, couldn't sleep a wink. We pulled into Miami around 6AM. Had a layover and left for Boston at 11. As soon as I got on the plane I could feel the tension and stress and thought I'm not in Brazil anymore. Heraldo picked us up around 2:30, took us to Marcio's house, where my car had rested peacefully for three weeks, and I drove home, landing at 5PM.
Let me conclude by giving thanks to God. It turned out that the word I had received that He would stretch me meant that He would stretch my capacity to receive blessing. I thank God for Vinci's
invitation, and extraordinary love. I thank Samia for all her help and translation. I am also grateful to God for all the precious Brazilian believers who befriended and served me during my stay.

40th Anniversary

On August 4, 1971, a young man with long hair and a straggly beard (a hippie) stood outside a hardware store on Highway 101 South, in Eureka, CA. When a van loaded with young people stopped, asked where he was going, and offered a ride, he replied that he had no idea but might like to see the ocean. "We live by the ocean," they replied. He hopped in and went with them to the Lighthouse Ranch, a former Coast Guard lighthouse station during World War Two, which had reverted to private ownership, most recently by a Christian millionaire who had since left for Hawaii. That night, at a small group meeting that discussed how to rear children in a Christian context, he was confronted with the gospel of Jesus Christ. He had heard it before, in Boulder, CO, at a Navigator House, and in Portland, OR at the Prince of Peace Ministries. So he gave them the same half baked philosophical nonsense that he had told the others. At length a man named Gus, whom he had never seen before, came up and said the same basic message that everyone else had said. This time the young hippie remained silent as the conviction of the Holy Spirit grew. When the believers finally asked whether he wished to receive Jesus as his Lord and Savior he agreed and prayed with them.
Forty years later, after many vicissitudes, pain, suffering and blessings, he continues to endure to the end. ( Matt 24:13) Life remains hard but God has proven Himself faithful. His mercy, patience and perseverance has proven His enduring love.
For those that may be unaware, the lack of blog posts over the past three weeks reflects a sojourn in Brazil. God willing, I hope to write a long report in the next several days of my time there, and what God has shown me to post on this blog.