Missing Ingredient Part 2

One of the realities of blogging is that if one wishes to write in stages on a particular topic, the reader will end up seeing it in a backwards sequence. Yesterday I wrote about the concept of apostolic authority in the NT house churches, and said this was lacking today. However, any reader will see today's follow-up comments before they read the prior post. C'est la vie dans la grand ville.  (That's life in the big city)
     Ephesians 4:11 lists a number of spiritual gifts which are said to be from the Lord Jesus, in contrast to the other lists of gifts (Romans 12, 1 Corinthians 12 beginning, and 1 Corinthians 12 end) that are said to come from the Holy Spirit. Depending on your perspective, the Ephesians passage lists either four or five of these gifts- apostle, prophet, evangelist, pastor, and teacher. It fascinates me that most American Christians accept the last three but many reject the first two, as if we could simply cut the verse in half. In fairness, I understand their viewpoint that the church is built on the foundations of the apostles and prophets, with Jesus Christ the chief cornerstone. (Ephesians 2:20) It is through the OT prophets and NT apostles that the Word of God came as inspired by the Holy Spirit. (2 Tim. 3:16 & 2 Peter 1:21) However, if we can accept a distinction between the inspired authors and subsequent generations of believers then perhaps a dialogue can take place on this subject. Along these lines the reader is invited to go to the NTRF.org website, which has an excellent article titled "Are there apostles in today's church?" In addition if one looks at the future tense language of Ephesians 4:12-16, and notes all the things that God intends to do through these giftings, it is difficult to believe that they are already accomplished. The key word is "until" in verse 13. It appears that these gifts are to continue until "we reach unity in the faith, and until we attain "to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ."
     Where I differ from the author of the article mentioned above is in the idea of authority. This has become a very controversial word in American culture. Many people reject the idea altogether. This is understandable. Everyone, including me, has been mistreated by someone in a place of authority. Should we allow human sin to eliminate God's order? Or should we ask for His help to do this in a manner pleasing to Him? I hope the latter. Paul says that he has been given authority for building up, not for tearing down. (2 Corinthians 13:10 cf. 10:8) The brother whom I have voluntarily and publicly acknowledged as an apostle, and to whom I have submitted my life, is also the person who has shown me the strongest, most consistent love of Christ. The two go together. Jesus loves us more than anyone else ever could; He also is Lord.
    

Missing Ingredient

     Since early autumn I have wrestled with the question of what is missing in New England house churches. In the spring of the year 2000, when I left the traditional church structure, I could not find any Christians meeting in homes and following the apostolic traditions of the New Testament closer than two hours from where I lived. Over time I either discovered, or there sprang up at least twenty different groups with whom God allowed me to develop relationship. There were many good people in these home gatherings. But in the last six months I have witnessed at least six of these same groups dissolve or go into crisis. Others are tiny knots of survivors. Only a couple appear healthy to me.
     During my sabbatical I asked God about this repeatedly. The response I got troubled me. I believe that He said that the house churches were largely based on the same anarchy and rebellion that characterizes the surrounding culture. Each group was an island to itself, largely inward focused, and unconnected to the larger Body of Christ in any practical way. Now another brother and I have promoted leaders (elders) meetings for the past several years. We got together quarterly, and even had two weekend retreats. Still there was something missing.
    Yesterday, as I was walking through the woods and fields where I reside, I believe God showed me a missing ingredient. The house churches written about in the New Testament were under apostolic authority, and we are not. I recognize that this rouses the question of whether there are modern day apostles. If we can agree that no one today has the ability to receive further Scripture quality revelation, then I hope we can consider the possibility. (More on this in a subsequent post.)
     For now I'd like to reproduce a study that I was led to do in the "Pastoral" letters, which illustrates apostolic authority. These are verses in which Paul, as an apostle, directs Timothy or Titus to tell other people to do something.
1 Timothy 1:3  Charge them to teach no other doctrine
1 Tim 4:11  Command and teach
1 Tim 5:7  Command these things
1 Tim. 5:17  Elders who rule well
1 Tim 6:2  Teach and exhort
1 Tim. 6:17  Command the rich
2 Tim. 2:14  Charging them before the Lord
2 Tim 4:2  Rebuke
Titus 1:9-10 Exhort and convict the insubordinate
Ti 1:13  Rebuke them sharply
Ti 2:6  Exhort young men
Ti 2:9 Exhort bond servants to obey
Ti 2:15  Speak, exhort and rebuke with all authority
     These are a compilation from the NKJV & the ESV.  They are clear examples of the flow of apostolic authority to (Pastors/apostolic emissaries) to others. In another post I will talk about another side of the equation, that of our personal relationship to the Lord.

Personal Language

     One of the realities of human existence is that we learn a language, which is not shared by everyone with whom we come into contact. Although the top ten most spoken languages- Mandarin Chinese, English, Spanish, French, Portuguese, Hindi, Bengali etc. are probably spoken by a majority of the population of the planet, there are thousands or tens of thousands of languages that are also used. Supposedly the island of New Guinea has many thousands just within its confines. Generally speaking, however, we share a language with most of the people with whom we interact.
     But what if this was not the case? What if each of us learned a unique language in our infancy, different from that spoken by our parents or siblings or anyone else? I recognize that this is not how language is acquired, but let's explore the possibility. What if, in order to communicate, we had to learn each individual language of anyone we met?
     I have been in situations where i was with a group of people who spoke a language that I did not. We could communicate through facial or hand movements to a limited degree but anything beyond that was impossible. How could human society function in this scenario? Would we not have to agree to have a common language?
     It strikes me that the modern concept that each person has their own "truth," unique to them, presents a similar problem. Once we eliminate the belief that there is any universal, absolute truth, then each one is free to develop their own truth. (language) And who is to say that one is better than another? How would we decide which person's language the rest of us had to learn?
     Thankfully a merciful God has provided an absolute, universal standard of truth for us in Jesus Christ.

Playing Cards

     When my daughter was growing up one of the things we liked to do was to play card games. Since she rarely played with anyone else, she learned how to play from me. In some cases I did not know the "official rules"; in others I modified them. As an adult when she began to play with her husband, he would sometimes look at something she had done and say, "That's not how you play this game." Now at this point they have a difference of opinion. He learned one way, she learned another.
     But then he would go one step further, get a book of card game rules, and show her the relevant one. In essence he was making an exclusive truth claim that the rule book, an external source of authority, represented the correct way to play, and that she should follow it. My question for 2013 readers is do you feel/believe that this is legitimate or illegitimate, valid or invalid? Should she abide by the rule book or can she say, "I learned it this way. I don't care what the rule book says."
     What if he were to say to her, "I love you so we will play the way you learned it." What do we think about that?
     Finally, let's posit a slightly different scenario. Let's say that the two of them invite two other couples over. They have a nice dinner and conversation. Afterwards someone says, "Let's play cards.' They agree on a particular game, but as they sit down to play they discover that each of the six has learned a different way to play it. Now is it appropriate to bring out the rule book, or should each one maintain their own understanding of the truth and play how they individually believe should be done?
     As Christians, do we really believe in absolute, universal truth, or can we believe whatever we want?

Reflections on God

   As I write this morning in a old New England seaport, God is faithful despite our issues. It seems we all have a "dead place" in our hearts that He desires to heal. He created us to love Him, and receive His love. Yet God is not a one dimensional Santa Claus, someone who only exists to give to our needs and wants. We need to sacrifice ourselves to receive Him fully. My wants, desires, needs must be submitted to Him to "know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that you may be filled with all the fullness of God," to walk with "Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us." (Ephesians 3:19-20.)
     The same Holy Spirit who inspires Paul to write 1 Corinthians 16:23-24 "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. My love be with you all in Christ Jesus," writes in the preceding verse 22, "If anyone does not love the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be accursed. O Lord, come!" (NKJV) To know God fully we must accept verse twenty-two just as completely as we do verses twenty-three and four. As humans most of us desire and welcome love and grace but having God curse those who don't love Christ strikes us as harsh and jarring. Yet we should seek the revelation of the Holy Spirit to illuminate this for us. Rather than try to rationalize or explain it away, we should remember that God's thoughts and ways are higher than ours. (Isaiah 55:9) We are created to glorify Him. "Bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the ends of the earth- everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made." (Isaiah 43:6b-7 NIV)
     One of my favorite memory verses is buried in the depths of the "Minor Prophets," Nahum 1:7. "The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him..." But let's look at the context, a blood curdling wrath against the people of Nineveh, capital of the Assyrian Empire.
   "Who can withstand his indignation? Who can endure his fierce anger? His wrath is poured out like fire; the rocks are shattered before him. The Lord is good, a refuge in times of trouble. He cares for those who trust in him, but with an overwhelming flood he will make an end of Nineveh; he will pursue his foes into darkness." (Nahum 1:6-8 NIV) May we know the God, who is love (1 John 4:16), and a consuming fire. (Hebrews 12:29).

Sabbatical

     As some readers know. I went on a three month sabbatical in early October. The Lord Jesus gave me a season of seeking Him, rest, some travel, and fellowship without the burden of leading, shepherding, teaching etc. After seven years of active pastoral ministry, the last three and a half full time, I needed a break. This time of refreshment, renewal and restoration has just concluded. By the Lord's leading, i hope to renew this blog as the best way to express to readers from all over the world what God is doing in me, and showing me. Later this month, I will turn sixty, and thus gain the coveted "geezer" status. I've been waiting for a long time. By His grace, my health is good, and I hope to make at least one and possibly more international trips this year. I am also a new grandfather with the birth of my grandson Barrett. God is good.
     Some of the themes which the Lord worked with me on during this past season were a deepening of trust, more honed prayer- asking specific questions and listening more, the utter importance of Biblical authority, varied ways to hear His voice such as dreams, visions, journaling, and His yearning to have deeper relationship with us. In the coming weeks and months I hope to post on these and other subjects.
    Most recently I just dropped off an extraordinary young woman named Marta at the airport. She stayed with me and the Phinney Hill family this past week. Born in Poland, she lives in the UK. I met her in Brazil. At that time she had never been to the US, and had no thought of doing so. An exchange student opportunity in San Francisco brought her here. At the end of her semester she took advantage of the remaining time on her visa to do some traveling. While here we went to Boston, trekked around the Harvard campus, visited the saints, and participated in a Portuguese language gathering at Daniel & Adele's home. She is very intelligent, resourceful, humble, joyful and growing rapidly in Christ. May God bless her future endeavors in His kingdom.

Germany Report

Nov. 1, 2012

GERMANY REPORT

Forty years ago I went to Europe for the summer and visited eleven countries. I was a hippie then. For a number of years I desired to return but never did until this past October. My friend and brother in Christ, Vinci, a Brazilian apostle, invited me to join him and his wife Samia. She runs a travel agency in which her daughter Queren works. Queren worked super hard, and got me a good ticket with aisle seats for every flight. My first one was an overnight from Boston to Munich. I am too tall to fit comfortably into a regular airline seat (some day I'd like to do first class, just once) and so can't sleep on planes. From Munich I flew to Düsseldorf, which is in the northwestern corner of the country. My understanding was that my plane would come in about an hour earlier than Samia's, who was flying in from Canada. What I had not coordinated was how we were to meet in the airport, or how to connect with Sergio, who lives in Germany, and was coming to pick us up. I had no phone access, and didn't know which airline or flight was bringing Samia. So I stood outside for over an hour waiting for Sergio, whom I had met in Brazil the previous year at the Missionary Conference, to arrive. While I waited I made friends with a young German parking attendant who spoke a little English. Most younger Germans know some English, which was a blessing as my German vocabulary is about 12 words learned from World War II movies. Finally I went back inside and tried to figure out how to use the public Internet. It could use a credit card (I like to pay cash to avoid identity theft) or Euro coins. I had Euro cash but no coins. I went to the money exchange but it was too expensive to change. I was beginning to despair when I heard a voice call my name. Samia sat in regal splendor surrounded by luggage waiting for Sergio to appear. She was a welcome sight.

We waited a short time and then Marco Aurelio appeared. He is a leader of a church near Manahuacu in Minas, a cheerful man, who is learning English. Somewhere around 3 PM, Sergio came and we piled people and suitcases into his VW. To this point I thought he lived in Düsseldorf but it turned out that he actually resided in Aachen, about ninety minutes away. Aachen was the former capital of Charlemagne, originator of something that historians refer to as the Holy Roman Empire, although it was neither holy nor Roman nor an empire. We traveled on the Autobahn, the German highway system, which in many places has no upper speed limit. Readers of my Brazil report may recall my allusion to Brazilian driving habits. Let it suffice to say that they really enjoy the autobahn.

Sergio and his wife Margherita live in a condo across the street from a little wooded park. They provided the wonderful hospitality that is so welcome to travelers. Vinci came in from Mozambique, where he had encouraged and blessed the brethren. I also met Maria and Viviani, two sisters in the Lord from Brazil. Marco Aurelio very graciously gave up his quarters for me and slept on a mattress in the living room. (Matthew 10:42, brother)

Saturday was a very busy day. Vinci had rented a Renault Van, and Marcello, a friend from the States, had rented a car. About a dozen of us piled into these and went to a place overlooking the borders of three countries- Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands. Most of my companions had digital cameras and took thousands of pictures during our trip.

I'm not sure why my friends, all Brazilians, wanted to go but the next place we visited was a U.S. Military grave site, the physical resting place of over 8,300 soldiers slain in the Second World War. Those who may remember the opening scene of the film “Saving Private Ryan” recall the hero as an elderly man visiting one of these. There was a wide boulevard, flanked by a single row of shade trees on each side, and endless curving rows of precisely spaced white crosses. I happened to walk down the boulevard with a German named Rolf, a friendly man. Such an irony that we could walk together having a nice conversation in a place that commemorated our countrymen slaughtering one another. Then we went into Holland. What amazed me was that there was no border guards or customs. One minute we were in Germany, the next we were in the Netherlands. We pulled up to a house with a outer courtyard. I had no idea who these people were but they ushered us in and shortly were feeding about twenty people. It turned out that they belong to a Spanish speaking congregation whom Sergio ministers too.

That evening some of the brothers invited me to a combination spa and water park. By this time our crew was complete, Vinci and Samia, Gislane, whom I had met at the Missionary Conference last year, Viviani and Maria, who turned out to be the sister of Kaila, wife of Marcello, Tiago and Liliani, missionaries in an Islamic country, Gilberto, a friend I had met last year who was now residing in the U.K., and Marco Aurelio. Marco, Gilberto, Tiago and I went with Ricardo, a Ph. D student in Mechanical Engineering, studying in Aachen, and married to Michelli, who had accompanied us on our jaunt that day. Ricardo is a very nice man (gente boa, I think is the Portuguese expression). He goes to San Diego annually for a conference. We hope he can stop off in Boston the next time.

The Spa has a large indoor pool with a number of adjacent small pools, and several outdoor pools of varying temperatures along with a sauna . Brazilians like water and they had a great time. Their favorite was a pool with a strong current along the perimeter that acted like the flow of a river. As with most things German, the arrangements were very efficient. They even had hair drying units on the walls which you could adjust to your own height.

Sunday was another busy day. Traveling with Vinci and Samia is like falling into a flooded river and being swept away by the current. From Düsseldorf we sped to Bonn, former capital of west Germany when the country was divided into two parts during the Cold War. Here we worshiped with an international congregation led by Mario, a German pastor, who had been born in Brazil. To my surprise I was approached just before the first service started by a young black woman who gave me a headset. Vinci would preach in Portuguese, translated on stage into German, which Nakoto, born in Germany of Ugandan parents, would translate into English for me. Once we got the technology worked out this worked very well. Vinci's translator was another young woman named Helena (or Elena) who had learned Portuguese during a six month stint in Brazil. Marcelo commented to me that her Portuguese was so flawless that she had no discernible German accent when she spoke. Vinci preached twice, and then we went downstairs for another feast made by Latin members of the congregation. Retracing our steps at top speed to Aachen we arrived in time for the evening service at the church that Sergio pastors. In the morning there is a service in German; in the evening they have the Latin service for Brazilians and Spanish speakers. Vinci preached again, which was three separate messages in one day, each for the better part of an hour. This time a middle aged lady, Patricia, whom I learned later spoke six languages (Helena only spoke five) translated. While they were taking the offering an elderly woman whom I had seen earlier, and who looked like she would have difficulty walking down the street, sat down at the piano and began to play. It turns out that she was a former concert pianist who, at the age of eighty-six could still play marvelously.

Monday morning we were on our way to Berlin in what I jokingly called Vinci's Traveling Language School. There were eight of us with English ability ranging from fluent to non-existent. Both of my seat mates, Gilberto and Marco Aurelio, were actively trying to learn, and I try to add to my smattering of Portuguese when I can. We stopped eventually to use the facilities and eat lunch. This was one of the two times that I had to pay to use the bathroom. The fee was E .70. (The Euro was worth about $1.30 or 2.5 Brazilian Reals at the time of my trip.) In exchange we each received a little receipt with a .50 discount to use. The Brazilians gathered these together (12 in all) and purchased French fries, known as pommes frites, the French language term, in Germany. (The word “potato” in French is pomme de la terre, literally apple of the earth.)

When we approached Berlin, Samia asked me to give an impromptu history lecture on the history of the city. Although I realize that most people are bored by history, I did, hoping that my listeners got something out of it. We found our hotel on Xantener Eck Strasse (Strasse means street) and went up to our rooms. Gilberto and Marco Aurelio kindly took the two smaller beds leaving the largest for me. We continued our informal language studies and I remember explaining how the word “paint” could be both a verb and a noun as in, “I paint the wall with paint.”

Then we gathered in the lobby before going out on the Kurfenstenddamm Strasse, a long shopping street. My friends love to take pictures, and, at times, I felt like I was surrounded by paparazzi. We ambled down to a monument, and eventually into a restaurant for dinner. After our non- English speaking waiter was switched for one that did, we proceeded to order. He did a lot of work to serve us, and to provide separate bills. Here I encountered one of the interesting cultural differences between Brazilians and Americans. In Brazil, as in Europe the final bill contains a Value Added Tax, or VAT. In Germany at least the percentage is available to see, in this case nineteen percent. My understanding (and all of this is just my possibly misinformed opinion) is that in Brazil the percentage is unknown, which means it could potentially be padded. The next morning I inquired and learned that if tips are given at all ten percent is the limit. In the U.S. to not give a tip would indicate extreme displeasure with the service, ten percent is for adequate service, fifteen percent is the norm, with twenty percent or higher for good service. The comment from my informant was that “Americans are generous people.” Of course it is easier when you are paying only seven or eight percent meal tax rather than the 19 to 25 % I found in Germany.

In the morning we found a breakfast buffet at the German restaurant on the corner before we left for our tourist day in Berlin. Samia negotiated passage on a double decker On/Off bus and we climbed on board. We stopped at the remnant of the Berlin Wall, about a block long. Vinci asked me to give a brief talk about the Wall, which I did, mentioning the Berlin Airlift, and the famous speeches given by President Kennedy ca. 1962, and President Reagan, ca. 1987.

We stopped on an island with a number of museums and inquired about a boat tour but did not take it. Then we went to the Brandenburg gate, taking numerous pictures all the while. Some of us stopped at a Dunkin Donuts, ( I know, all the way to Germany for Dunkin Donuts, silly) where I paid half a Euro to use the facilities. That day I adopted Viviani, a joyful young woman about my own daughter's age. Upon exiting the bus we divided into several groups. Six of us ended up at a pizza restaurant. Afterwards we walked back to the hotel where Marcelo came up and spoke with Marco, and I allegedly snored.

The next morning we gathered in one of the rooms, and had a good time of prayer. Vinci talked about his “killer” schedule (which would finish off the average person), and mentioned his desire for a man with his heart to follow him in ministry, (someone with the same gifting of the Spirit), something he and I had talked about on the drive to Berlin. We laid hands on him and prayed. After a late breakfast we embarked for Nidda, a little German town where the missionary conference (Encontro) would be held. We were accompanied by a man called Brother Simeon, a Christian Brazilian musician who had been famous back in the day. He gave a wild testimony that included a desire long ago

to reform the Beatles.

Again we traveled at breakneck speed (about 90MPH). I attempted to get a little exercise during our stops by walking back and forth, something that amused my friends. I have not observed that walking for exercise is part of the Brazilian culture. We arrived late afternoon in Nidda (actually a hamlet called Bad Salhausen) to a missionary conference center hosted by a Brazilian woman who had lived in Germany for a number of years and spoke German. She and her colleagues proceeded to feed us prodigiously. At the conference itself there were two speakers, Vinci, and a brother named Jaime Nobre, I believe, from the Sao Paulo area. At the peak there were about sixty adults, mostly Brazilians, some of whom lived in Europe and others who had traveled from Brazil, along with a few Portuguese, two Englishmen, and the lone American. We lived in eleven different countries including Luxembourg. That night I was placed in a nice room by myself.

The next day I had an opportunity to take a long walk in which I was able to use three of my total German vocabulary of about a dozen words. A man stopped to offer me a ride. I couldn't hear him clearly at first so I said “Bitte” (please), then “Nein,” (No), and “Danke” (thanks). It was a heavily traveled road for being out in the country.

A brother named Mauricio, who lives in the U.K., did most of the translating for me and the two Englishmen. I set next to a very nice brother who lives in Luxembourg, and speaks French, whose name escapes me. I also met Tiana, a young woman from Vitoria, who is studying law in English in Munich. She said she was struggling to learn German; her English was excellent.

We parted ways Friday, with Vinci and a van load of people going to Frankfurt, while Sergio, Margherita, and a missionary sister named Alda, and I traveled back to Aachen. I had met Alda the year before at the missionary conference. She had served in an Islamic country and then come to Germany. She studies German every day. Saturday we went to the Spanish speaking service in Holland. Sergio asked me to give my testimony and preach a little, which I did to about twenty people. At the end a Dutch brother named Leo called me over and we talked for about fifteen minutes. He belongs to the Dutch church that uses the building in the morning, and for the past three years has volunteered to open the church and help out the Spanish speakers even though he doesn't speak their language. His English was good.

Sunday morning Margherita was not feeling well so we skipped the German service, and went to the Portuguese one in the evening. There I saw my friend Ricardo, who is in charge of the sound system. Sergio preached. He is a quiet man but can be quite humorous in a public setting. Sergio 's older son Levi translated for me. Just prior to the service Alda and I prayed together. She received a vision from the Lord but my Portuguese was insufficient to grasp what she was saying, and she doesn't speak English. Afterwards she asked Helena to help us communicate. Helena said it was difficult for her to go back and forth in two foreign languages rather than her native German but she got the idea across that God had a surprise in store for me.

Monday I got up around 4 in the morning to return to the US. Lucas, Sergio's younger son accompanied me. He is in University. Sergio took us to the train station in Aachen. At first there were very few people. As we got closer to Düsseldorf the train got crowded. I haven't been on a train in a very long time so it is hard to compare but it seemed quiet, efficient, and fast. We switched trains at the main station in Düsseldorf to take a different one to the airport. There I put my passport in to get the boarding pass to discover that my flight was canceled. I am used to American media hyping up any type of bad weather to make it seem worse than it really is, so I didn't realize the impact of hurricane Sandy. My flight was to Newark of all places. So Lucas and I turned around and went back to Aachen. He has lived in Germany since he was nine and says that his German is better than his Portuguese. His English is conversational so he knows three languages.

Sergio and Margherita put me up again, fed me constantly, and I tried it again the next day. An extremely helpful Lufthansa agent found me a Swiss Air flight to Zürich, and from there to Boston. Lucas had to go to class so with God's help negotiated this on my own even though I ended up taking a different train from Düsseldorf to the airport. From Düsseldorf to Zürich I had two seats to myself, which was wonderful. Unfortunately the much longer flight from Zürich to the US was full. My friend and brother in Christ, Matt, picked me up at the airport.

Relatorio da Alemanha

English readers:  The English version of this appears in the next post.

RELATÓRIO DA VIAGEM PARA A ALEMANHA

Rick Thompson

Quarenta anos atrás, estive na Europa durante um verão e visitei 11 países. Naquela época, eu era um hippie. Por muitos anos desejei retornar à Europa, mas nunca tive oportunidade até outubro passado. Meu amigo e irmão em Cristo, Vinci, um apóstolo brasileiro, me convidou para se juntar a ele e sua esposa Samia. Ela dirige uma agência de viagem, onde também trabalha sua filha Queren. Queren trabalhou bastante, e me conseguiu boas passagens aéreas, com os assentos no corredor em cada vôo. O primeiro vôo, de Boston para Munique, foi à noite. Sou muito alto para caber confortavelmente em uma poltrona de avião normal (um dia gostaria de viajar de primeira classe, apenas uma vez) e por isso não consigo dormir em aviões. De Munique, eu voei para Düsseldorf, que fica na parte noroeste do país.

Eu havia entendido que meu vôo chegaria aproximadamente uma hora mais cedo do que o da Samia, que estava vindo do Canadá. O que eu não tinha combinado foi como nos encontraríamos no aeroporto, ou como entrar em contato com Sergio, que vive na Alemanha, e estava vindo nos pegar. Eu não tinha acesso a telefone, e não sabia que linha aérea ou o vôo a Samia estava vindo. Então fiquei do lado de fora por mais de uma hora esperando o Sérgio, que eu havia conhecido no Brasil no ano anterior, na Conferência Missionária. Enquanto eu esperava, eu fiz amizade com um funcionário do estacionamento, um jovem alemão que falava um pouco de Inglês. A maioria dos alemães mais jovens sabe um pouco de Inglês, o que foi uma bênção, já que meu vocabulário em alemão é de cerca de 12 palavras aprendidas a partir de filmes da Segunda Guerra Mundial. Finalmente eu voltei para dentro e tentei descobrir como usar a Internet pública. Era possível utilizar um cartão de crédito (eu gosto de pagar em dinheiro para evitar o roubo de identidade) ou moedas de euro. Eu tinha Euro, mas não moedas. Fui tentar trocar o dinheiro, mas era muito caro a conversão. Eu estava começando a me desesperar, quando ouvi uma voz chamar meu nome. Samia estava sentada em esplendor real, cercada por bagagem, esperando que o Sergio aparecesse. Ela era uma visão bem-vinda.

Esperamos um tempo e depois Marco Aurélio apareceu. Ele é um líder da igreja em uma cidade perto de Manahuacu (Carangola) em Minas Gerais. Um homem alegre, que está aprendendo Inglês. Algo em torno de três horas, Sergio apareceu e nós empilhamos pessoas e malas em seu VW. Até aquele momento, eu pensava que ele morasse em Düsseldorf, mas descobri que, na verdade, ele residia em Aachen, a cerca de 90 minutos de distância. Aachen foi a antiga capital de Carlos Magno, criador de algo que os historiadores se referem como o Sacro Império Romano, embora não era nem santo, nem romano, nem um império. Pegamos a Autobahn, o sistema rodoviário alemão, que em muitos lugares não tem limite de velocidade superior. Os leitores do meu relatório do Brasil poderão recordar da minha alusão aos hábitos de condução brasileira. É suficiente dizer que eles realmente curtem a Autobahn.

Sergio e sua esposa Margarida vivem em um condomínio em frente a um pequeno parque arborizado. Eles nos receberam maravilhosamente, o que é sempre tão bem-vindo para os viajantes. Vinci veio de Moçambique, onde ele havia encorajado e abençoado os irmãos de lá. Eu também conheci Maria e Viviani, duas irmãs no Senhor do Brasil. Marco Aurélio, muito graciosamente abriu mão de seu quarto para mim e passou a dormir em um colchão na sala de estar. (Mateus 10:42, irmão)

Sábado foi um dia bastante cheio de compromissos. Vinci havia alugado uma Van Renault, e Marcelo, um amigo dos Estados Unidos, tinha alugado um carro. Cerca de uma dúzia de nós empilhados nesses carros, fomos para um lugar com vista para as fronteiras de três países: Alemanha, Bélgica e Países Baixos. A maioria dos meus companheiros tinham câmeras digitais e tiraram milhares de fotos durante nossa viagem.

Eu não sei por que meus amigos, todos brasileiros, queriam visitar um túmulo Militar americano, o local de descanso de mais de 8.300 soldados mortos na Segunda Guerra Mundial. Aqueles que podem se lembrar da cena de abertura do filme “O Resgate do Soldado Ryan” vão lembrar do herói, já um homem idoso, visitando um destes túmulos. No local havia uma ampla rua, cercada por uma única linha de árvores de sombra em cada lado, e as infinitas linhas curvas de cruzes brancas precisas e espaçosas. Desci a rua com um alemão chamado Rolf, um homem simpático. Tal ironia de podermos caminhar juntos, ter uma conversa agradável em um local que homenageava o combate dos nossos compatriotas uns contra os outros.

Depois fomos para a Holanda. O que me espantou foi que não havia guardas de fronteira ou alfândega. Um minuto antes estávamos na Alemanha, e no seguinte, estávamos na Holanda. Nós desembarcamos em uma casa com um jardim exterior. Eu não tinha ideia de quem eram as pessoas que nos receberam, mas eles nos conduziram e logo estavam servindo comida para cerca de 20 pessoas. Descobri que eles pertenciam a uma congregação de língua espanhola em que Sérgio ministrava também.

Naquela noite, alguns irmãos me convidaram para ir a um lugar que era uma combinação de spa e parque aquático. Nesse momento nossa equipe estava completa, Vinci e Samia, Gislene, que eu havia conhecido na Conferência Missionária ano passado, Viviani e Maria (irmã de Keyla, esposa de Marcelo), Tiago e Liliani (casal de missionários em um país islâmico), Gilberto (um amigo que conheci no ano passado no Brasil e que agora reside no Reino Unido), e Marco Aurélio. Marco, Gilberto, Tiago e eu fomos com Ricardo, que está fazendo doutorado em Engenharia Mecânica na cidade de Aachen e é casado com Micheli, que nos acompanhou em nosso passeio naquele dia. Ricardo é um homem muito simpático (boa gente, eu acho que é a expressão em Português). Ele costuma ir para San Diego anualmente para uma conferência. Esperamos que ele possa passar por Boston na próxima vez.

O Spa tem uma grande piscina interior com uma série de pequenas piscinas adjacentes, e várias piscinas exteriores de diferentes temperaturas, juntamente com uma sauna. Os brasileiros gostam de água e eles se divertiram muito. Sua favorita era uma piscina com uma forte corrente como um fluxo de um rio. Tal como acontece com a maioria das coisas alemãs, tudo era muito eficientes. Eles ainda tinham secadores de cabelo nas paredes que você pode ajustar a sua própria altura.

Domingo foi outro dia cheio. Viajar com Vinci e Samia é como cair em um rio inundado e ser arrastado pela corrente. De Düsseldorf fomos para Bonn, antiga capital da Alemanha Ocidental, quando o país foi dividido em duas partes durante a Guerra Fria. Ali tivemos um tempo de louvor e adoração com uma congregação internacional liderada por Mario, um pastor alemão, nascido no Brasil. Para minha surpresa fui abordado por uma jovem negra, pouco antes da primeira reunião, que me deu um fone de ouvido. Vinci iria pregar em Português, traduzido no palco para o alemão, e Nakoto, irmão nascido na Alemanha de pais oriundos de Uganda, iria traduzir para o Inglês para mim. Uma vez que temos a tecnologia, tudo funciona muito bem. Quem fez a tradução para Vinci foi outra jovem mulher chamada Helena (ou Elena) que tinha aprendido Português durante uma temporada de seis meses no Brasil. Marcelo comentou comigo que ela tem um Português impecável, sem sotaque alemão perceptível quando fala. Vinci pregou duas vezes, e então descemos para outra festa feita por membros latinos da congregação.

Voltamos em alta velocidade para Aachen e chegamos a tempo para o culto da noite na igreja onde Sérgio é pastor. Na parte da manhã, há uma reunião em alemão e à noite eles têm a reunião Latina para brasileiros e falantes de espanhol. Vinci pregou mais uma vez, pela terceira vez no dia, cada uma das palavras dele era de mais de uma hora. Desta vez quem traduziu foi Patrícia, uma senhora de meia idade, que descobri mais tarde que fala seis línguas (Helena só falava cinco). Durante as ofertas, uma mulher idosa que eu tinha visto antes e que parecia que teria dificuldade de andar pela rua, sentou-se ao piano e começou a tocar. Ela era uma ex-pianista que, com a idade de 86 ainda podia tocar maravilhosamente.

Segunda de manhã estávamos a caminho de Berlim, que eu chamei brincando de Escola de Línguas de Viagem do Vinci. Havia oito de nós com capacidades que variam de Inglês fluente para inexistente. Os meus companheiros do banco, Gilberto e Marco Aurélio, foram ativamente tentando aprender, e eu, quando era possível, tentava adicionar um pouco de português ao meu conhecimento. Paramos para almoçar. Esta foi uma das duas vezes que eu tive que pagar para usar o banheiro. A taxa foi 0,70 E. (O euro, no tempo da minha viagem, valia cerca de US $ 1,30 ou 2,5 reais). Em troca, cada um de nós recebeu um recibo que dava direito a um desconto de 0,50 para usar como quiséssemos. Os brasileiros reunidos (12 no total) juntaram os recibos e compraram batata frita, conhecida como pommes frites, termo francês usado na Alemanha (a palavra "batata" em francês é “pomme de la terre”, que significa literalmente “maçã da terra”).

Quando nos aproximamos de Berlim, Samia me pediu para dar uma palestra de improviso sobre a história da cidade. Apesar de eu perceber que a maioria das pessoas não gostava de história, eu continuei, esperando que meus ouvintes tirassem algo de proveito do que falava. Encontramos nosso hotel em Xantener Eck Strasse (Strasse significa rua) e subimos para os quartos. Gilberto e Marco Aurélio gentilmente pegaram as duas camas menores, deixando a maior para mim. Continuamos nosso estudo informal de língua e lembro-me explicar como a palavra "paint" (“pintar” em inglês) poderia ser tanto um verbo (pintar) e um substantivo (tinta), como na frase “I paint the wall with paint” ("eu pinto a parede com tinta").

Então, nos reunimos no lobby do hotel antes de sair para a Rua Kurfenstenddamm, um grande centro comercial de rua. Meus amigos gostam de tirar fotos, e, às vezes, me senti como se eu estivesse cercado por paparazzi. Caminhamos até um monumento, e, paramos em um restaurante para jantar. O garçom que inicialmente nos atendeu não falava Inglês, sendo trocado por outro que falava, para que assim pudéssemos fazer o pedido. Ele teve trabalho para nos servir, e para fornecer contas separadas. Nesse ponto encontrei uma das diferenças culturais interessantes entre brasileiros e americanos. No Brasil, como na Europa, a conta final contém um Imposto sobre Valor Agregado, ou IVA. Na Alemanha, pelo menos a percentagem está disponível para ver, neste caso 19%. O meu entendimento (e tudo isso é apenas a minha opinião, possivelmente desinformada) é que no Brasil o percentual é desconhecido, o que significa que poderia ser preenchido. Na manhã seguinte, eu perguntei e aprendi que são dadas gorjetas de 10%. Nos EUA, não dar gorjeta indica extrema insatisfação com o serviço, 10% é para o serviço adequado, 15% é a normal e 20% ou mais por um bom serviço. O comentário de meu informante foi que "os americanos são pessoas generosas". É claro que é mais fácil quando você está pagando apenas 7% ou 8% de imposto na refeição em vez de 19% a 25% como na Alemanha.

Pela manhã encontramos um restaurante de esquina com café da manhã alemão e depois saímos para o nosso dia turístico em Berlim. Samia negociou a passagem para um ônibus de dois andares e subimos a bordo. Paramos no remanescente do Muro de Berlim. Vinci me pediu para dar uma breve explanação a respeito do muro, o que fiz, mencionando o chamado “The Berlim Airlift” e os famosos discursos feitos pelos presidentes Kennedy 1962 e Reagan 1987.

Paramos em uma ilha com um número de museus e perguntamos sobre um passeio de barco, mas não o fazemos. Depois fomos para o portão de Brandenburgo, tiramos várias fotos o tempo todo. Alguns de nós paramos em um Dunkin Donuts, (eu sei, parece sem sentido estar na Alemanha e comer no Dunkin Donuts) onde tive que pagar 0,50 de euros para utilizar o banheiro. Aquele dia eu adotei Viviani, uma mulher alegre, jovem, com idade aproximada da minha filha. Ao sair do ônibus, nos dividimos em vários grupos. Seis de nós acabou em uma pizzaria. Depois voltamos para o hotel onde Marcelo veio conversar com Marco enquanto eu provavelmente estava roncando.

Na manhã seguinte, nos reunimos em um dos quartos, e tivemos um bom tempo de oração. Vinci falou sobre sua agenda pesada (o que acabava com a média das pessoas), e mencionou seu desejo de ter um homem com o seu coração para segui-lo no ministério, (alguém com o mesmo dom do Espírito), algo que ele e eu conversamos quando estávamos indo para Berlim. Nós impomos as mãos sobre ele e oramos. Depois de um café da manhã atrasado, embarcamos para Nidda, uma pequena cidade alemã onde a conferência missionária (Encontro) seria realizada. Fomos acompanhados por um homem chamado Irmão Simeão, músico cristão brasileiro, que tinha sido famoso no passado. Ele deu um testemunho forte, que incluía o desejo que tinha no passado de formar novamente os Beatles.

Mais uma vez, viajamos em vertiginosa velocidade (cerca de 90 mph). Tentei fazer um pouco de exercício durante nossas paradas, andando para trás e para a frente, algo que divertia os meus amigos. Eu observei que a caminhada como exercício não é parte da cultura brasileira. Chegamos no final da tarde em Nidda (na verdade, um lugarejo chamado Salhausen Bad) ao centro de conferência missionária, recepcionados por uma mulher brasileira que tinha vivido na Alemanha por um número de anos e que falava alemão. Ela e seus colegas prodigiosamente nos serviram comida. Para a conferência haviam dois locutores, Vinci, e um irmão chamado Jaime Nobre, eu acredito, da região de São Paulo. No auge, havia cerca de 60 adultos, em sua maioria brasileiros, alguns dos quais viviam na Europa e outros que viajaram do Brasil, juntamente com poucos Português, dois ingleses, e o americano solitário. Representávamos 11 países diferentes, incluindo Luxemburgo. Naquela noite eu fui colocado em um bom quarto sozinho.

No dia seguinte eu tive a oportunidade de fazer uma longa caminhada em que fui capaz de usar três palavras do meu vocabulário total alemão, que é de cerca de uma dúzia de palavras. Um homem parou para me oferecer uma carona. Eu não podia entendê-lo claramente de pronto, então eu disse "Bitte" (por favor), então "Nein," (Não), e "Danke" (obrigado). Era uma estrada de trânsito intenso, considerando que estava em uma cidade do interior.

Um irmão chamado Mauricio, que vive no Reino Unido, fez a maioria das traduções para mim e para os dois ingleses. Eu fiquei junto de um irmão muito legal que vive em Luxemburgo e fala francês, cujo nome me escapa. Eu também conheci Taina, uma jovem de Vitória, que está tendo aulas de direito em inglês, na cidade Munique. Ela disse que estava se esforçando para aprender alemão. Seu Inglês é excelente.

Na sexta-feira separamos. Vinci com uma van cheia de pessoas partiram para Frankfurt, enquanto Sergio, Margarida, uma irmã missionária chamada Alda e eu viajamos de volta para Aachen. Eu havia conhecido Alda no ano anterior, na conferência missionária. Ela tinha servido em um país islâmico e depois veio para a Alemanha. Ela estuda alemão todos os dias. Sábado fomos para a reunião de língua espanhola na Holanda. Sergio me pediu para dar o meu testemunho e entregar uma pequena palavra, o que eu fiz para cerca de 20 pessoas. No final da reunião, um irmão holandês chamado Leo me chamou e conversamos por cerca de 15 minutos. Ele pertence à igreja holandesa que usa o edifício pela manhã, e nos últimos três anos se ofereceu para abrir o local de reunião e ajudar os falantes de espanhol, embora ele mesmo não fale essa língua. Seu Inglês é bom.

Domingo de manhã Margarida não estava se sentindo bem, então não fomos à reunião dos alemães, mas fomos somente à noite na reunião dos irmãos de língua portuguesa. Lá eu vi meu amigo Ricardo, que é responsável pelo sistema de som. Sergio pregou. Ele é um homem tranquilo, mas pode ser muito bem-humorado em um ambiente público. O filho mais velho do Sergio, Levi, traduziu para mim. Pouco antes da reunião, Alda e eu oramos juntos. Ela recebeu uma visão do Senhor, mas o meu Português não foi suficiente para entender o que ela estava dizendo e ela não fala Inglês. Depois ela pediu Helena para nos ajudar a nos comunicar. Helena disse que é difícil para ela ir e voltar em duas línguas estrangeiras, em vez de seu alemão nativo, mas conseguiu entender a ideia de que Deus tinha uma surpresa para mim.

Segunda-feira acordei por volta de 4 horas da manhã para voltar para os EUA. Lucas, filho mais novo de Sergio, me acompanhou. Ele está na Universidade. Sergio nos levou para a estação de trem em Aachen. No início havia poucas pessoas no trem, mas quando chegamos mais perto de Düsseldorf, o trem ficou lotado. Eu não havia feito nenhuma viagem longa trem, por isso é difícil comparar, mas me pareceu calmo, eficiente e rápido. Trocamos de trem na estação principal de Düsseldorf, para irmos para o aeroporto. Quando fui pegar o meu cartão de embarque, descobri que meu vôo havia sido cancelado. Eu estou acostumado a mídia americana exaltando qualquer tipo de mau tempo para fazê-lo parecer pior do que realmente é, então eu não sabia do impacto do furacão Sandy. Assim, Lucas e eu voltamos para Aachen. Ele vive na Alemanha desde que tinha nove anos e diz que seu alemão é melhor do que o seu Português. Seu Inglês é de conversação. Assim ele conhece três idiomas.

Sergio e Margarida me receberam novamente, me alimentaram constantemente, e eu tentei novamente no dia seguinte fazer minha viagem para os USA. Um agente da Lufthansa, extremamente eficiente, me pôs em um vôo da Swiss Air para Zurique, e de lá para Boston. Lucas teve que ir para escola, assim com a ajuda de Deus, tive que fazer tudo sozinho, inclusive ter que pegar um trem diferente de Düsseldorf para o aeroporto. Eu consegui duas poltronas no vôo de Düsseldorf para Zurique, o que foi maravilhoso. Infelizmente o vôo de Zurique para os EUA, que é bem mais longo, estava cheio. Meu amigo e irmão em Cristo, Matt, me pegou no aeroporto.

    Translated by meu amigo, Getulio V