Thanksgiving on the Rio Negro

I fell asleep in my hammock, gently swinging between two trees on a beach somewhere on the Rio Negro, under a brilliantly starry sky.  Only to be greeted in the morning by a magnificient sunrise, admitedly, I don´t see a lot of sunrises, but I don´t remember one quite this colorful.  Our boat lazily waited on the beach, we were in no hurry to finish the 10 hour journey from Santa Isabel to Barcelos.  We still had about 4 hours to go, but we´ve been trying to allow time to listen to God, and share as a group each morning.  As I read in Psalms "offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving...", a thought occured to me and I turn to Luke and asked "hey Luke, what days is it?"  "Thursday, I think" 

Thanksgiving has always been a family day.  I grew up every year going to both of my extended families' thanksgivings.  It was just what we did.  Brin often reminds me how when we had our first thanksgiving together and were discussing our plans, I selfishly said "well of course we have to go to my family things on thanksgiving", not even considering that her childhood may have been different (yeah, we had a few issues to work out).  At any rate, thanksgiving for me is being with family.  And here I was, in the middle of the Rio Negro, 2 days boat ride from what most people would call civilization (Manaus), with 4 fellow missionaries and 2 brazilians that we had hired as guides. 

I have to admit, the first feelings were of self-pity, wishing I were somewhere else, eating something else.  But before long a feeling of peace decended on me.  This was a unique experience I was having, seeing new places and sights, experiencing the beauty and majesty of God.  Like the 10 foot crocidile sunbathing on the beach, the tea-colored water of the Rio Negro, the endess white-sand beaches lining the banks and islands, the indigenous people of the region, and of course the sunrises, sunsets and star-filled night sky.

I do miss my family, but this year I am more aware than ever, and thankful for, the beauty of God's nature.

(pictures  to come later)

Exploring the Amazon

View Rio Negro Exploration Trip in a larger map

Tomorrow (Thurs. Nov. 19th) I'll be leaving on a two week survey trip of a region in the western Amazon. Tim Kubacki, a fellow missionary, has been wanting to explore this region to see the potential for future work. Since we are asking some of the same questions about our future, I thought it would be a good opportunity. Tim and I, along with his sons Luke and Ben, and another missionary, Chelsea, will be exploring primary 3 cities, and the remote areas around those cities, along the Rio Negro.

After flying to Manaus and spending a few days doing some fact finding, we'll head up-river on a line boat (public transportation) for almost 600 miles to the furthest city, Sao Gabriel. Spending a few days in each city and possibly some of the area around each city, we plan to arrive back in Manaus by Dec. 4th, when Chelsea and I fly back to Altamira. The Kubackis will continue the trip, traveling up the Amazon and exploring several cities for another two weeks.

Please pray that we will not only see the region through our own eyes, but be able to see what God is doing and if we are to play a part in it. Also pray for Brin and the girls staying behind. I'm bummed to be missing Thanksgiving and the girls are going to be in some kind of a parade that they are excited about, but Brin and I both feel this is an important opportunity to seek God and where he might be calling us.

The simplicity of doing without

About once a quarter we have a leadership training workshop called a TLC.  Leaders from city churches and interior churches all come together and receive training in areas such as small group leadership, leading worship, children's ministry, new membership classes, etc.  What makes this workshop different is the setting.  

Agua Preta is a community where we have had a church for several years.  Throughout that time, we have also developed a crude training center on site.  The structures include a pavilion in which to hang a hammock, a shack for cooking, and a few mango trees which serve as protection from the Amazon sun.  The lack of electricity (except for a generator we brought for showing a film), running water, or any other modern convenience makes this a memorable setting for a workshop.  

Mealtime 

 

 One group meets in an abandoned home.

 

But I am constantly impressed with the Brazilians ability to take what is available and make it work.  Sure, it was a bit inconvenient to walk down to the river in the dark to wash my dishes and the heat was oppressive at times during the day, but nothing a dip in the cool river didn't help.  

I think at times we convince ourselves that we need much more than we really do, leading to attitudes of self-entitlement and privilege.  It would have been nice to enjoy all the amenities of a modern conference center, but there's also something to be said for the simplicity of doing without.  

A class project

Allison, Josh, Zeca, Rómolu, Patrícia, Carlinha and Ronaldo, the church planter from Altamira that has been working in Surubim.

In some previous posts I have written about our church plant in Surubim, a remote community about 4 hours from Altamira. I just got back from a trip there. This time, however, I used the experience as a practical learning experience for the training group I have been working with. Our group has been meeting together for a few weeks now, talking about missions and what it would be like for them to live in a community for 3-6 months and disciple the leaders. We learned some teaching material, and then went on this trip to apply what we learned.


Surubim was an ideal location because all of them had been there before and knew the main leader, Zeca. Also, recently a woman named Carlinha moved to the community from one of our churches in Altamira, and more importantly she had been through some leadership classes and involved in leading a small group in Altamira. She is excited about helping out and has been holding a small group in her home since arriving in Surubim this summer. Zeca has been through some leadership material already, but still feels a bit nervous about leading a meeting on his own. We hoped to encourage both of them and to help them logistically plan for how to move forward.

We arrived Sat. and took the afternoon to visit with Zeca, Carlinha and some other potential leaders. We explained that we wanted to meet with all of them on Sunday morning to begin training them as a group.

One of the logistical problems with this area is that the people are spread out over a large area. The people work all day and it is usually dark or getting dark by the time an evening meeting would start. A long walk through a dark jungle path, often in the rain, is difficult. That any one shows up at all is a testament to their desire to meet together. The distance between Zeca's house and Carlinha's is about 4 miles. We took a group from Zeca's house to Carlinha's small group, but we realized that it was going to be too far to expect them to go that distance when we weren't there to give a ride.

On the road to Carlinha's house from Zeca's.

Carlinha's small group, meeting outside her house

Carlinha is going to be a great asset to the fledgling group of believers in Surubim. We are hoping to help Zeca start his own small group which will meet weekly at his house, and then once a month the two groups can meet together for a larger church service.

Sunday morning, Allison, Rómolu, Patricia and I met with the leadership group, or at least what we were thinking would be leadership. In reality, when a group congregates out in the bush, it is normal for neighbors to just stop by and hang for a bit. So included in our meeting were several people who just happened come by, some not even believers yet. So they stayed and listened. We had prepared a lesson on how to study the bible, each of the three took a section of the material to teach. Next month we are going back and will be teaching about how to lead a home group. Up until this point the visits to Surubim had been primarily evangelistic, with several believers in the community it is now time to begin releasing them to meet on their own. For me, this is one of the most encouraging steps for a church plant, watching them begin to walk together in faith and taking those first few steps on their own.

Playing it safe

-post by Brin

My children arrive home after an afternoon of Brazilian school around 6:00pm, and with about another 30 minutes of daylight, Ava and Mia usually run to the street to find their neighborhood friends who also just returned home. I pity the neighborhood boys. This group of girls, sometimes as many as a dozen of them, rule the street. Or at least the portion between my house and my neighbors house 20 meters away. They patrol their turf with scooters from my garage and then whatever else they might find around. Adults would call it trash or yard refuse, but they call it a Barbie car, a bowl of rice or whatever they need to fit into their imaginative play. That is the part I like. Josh and I have often been impressed with the ingenuity we see among Brazilians friends (at least for Altamira, I can’t speak for the rest of Brazil) and I see that same trait come out in the children as well. I like that my children do not need a drawer of dolls and their plethora of accessories to play house. They would probably like it, and they do have some, but they have learned to play and have fun with simple things. I see their minds at work when they make up a game with a jump rope and bucket of dried açai berries. I really like it for one thing because I am a homeschooling mom, and hey, they are doing some of my work for me.

So clearly I will need to admit, I have found my children playing with trash. This leads to conversations about what sort of garbage they should leave alone, such as tin cans, cigarette butts and diapers. And then which trash can be used for play (am I really saying this?). I would probably give a go to an empty butter container that has a string attached so it can be floated. Which leads to another conversation about what sort of water is ok to play with. Yes to buckets that you make yourself and no to the gray water run-off from the neighbor uphill, however alluring that greenish, odorous little river running next to the sidewalk is to my children. During heavy rainfall, the drainage ditches fill with a swift current of water. Once I let my girls out to play in the rain with their friends and when I checked on them they were splashing around in gray water. I bee-lined it to the group and busted out admonishments about the filth of the water and how prone they all were to diseases like diarrhea and skin infections. They stared at me wide-eyed as I confirmed what the neighborhood girls already knew, that the American mom is weird. I think my girls wonder why I must complicate their play to the degree I do. I consider it too, because sometimes it is a lot of work for me. It would be much easier if I just kept all the kids entertained within the confines of my clean, safe yard. And I do, often. But sometimes, they are just too noisy. And sometimes, they are rougher with some of my girls’ belongings than I have taught them to be, as in throwing a Bitty Baby doll into the mango tree. Sometimes, they are frustratingly disobedient and disrespectful. However, what it really comes down to is the value I see in my girls learning from their Brazilian counterparts and gaining some of those traits that I find so desirable. So yup, my kids get parasites more than your kids do. And I still do not know my neighbors well enough to let my children have more than 5 minutes of unsupervised play. Not that my neighbors aren’t friendly, it is just that so many people come and go I never am really sure who lives there. That requires close tabs and fragmented email writing. For now, I think the extra effort is worth it.


I love this picture of Ava as Captain Hook. The beauty of her play is that we were at the beach when she came up with that and so she got to play out her Peter Pan story on the boat… err ship, back home.

A new pile of sand was delivered to the neighbors today for an addition on their home. What a treat for my girls because if I do not know how long the sand has been on the street, I won’t let them play in it. It is anyone’s guess as to what critters are living in it and so it is cruelly off limits. Mia is in the foreground and happens to be playing with a dried and discarded turtle shell, the likely remnants of our neighbors’ lunch.


I am thinking about this because I am realizing what a contrast it is to my antibacterial and garbage-less neighborhood back in Illinois. If I was concerned when my kids ran barefoot across the street, it was probably for their tender soles on hot pavement, not the dog hookworm larvae or scorpions hiding the in the coconut tree trimmings. My children’s every day play comes with a risk that I simply didn’t experience in my old life. Thanks to things like childproof medicine bottles, construction codes for stair railings and that forbidding skeleton and crossbones warning on the bottles that scares away even a pre-reader. But with the risk comes the creativity, the freedom of play and the expanse of mind that might not happen otherwise or at least to that degree. And so sometimes, with a decent amount of assessment and prayer, I choose risk.


But I am just speaking of risk within the context of my parenting my girls, but I know it plays out in so many areas of my life. Do I risk inviting a 20 year old girl to live in my home for 6 months even though I met her once for maybe 5 minutes and I don’t really remember her? Should I launch a new idea that could fail as easily as it could succeed? Heaven forbid people might suspect I have the incompetence I actually do. Do I risk telling my friend about a dangerous tendency I see in her life, knowing she is sensitive and might put me at a distance? Keep in mind, it is not fun to make friends with a foreigner who speaks annoyingly slow and asks a lot of questions, so I would like to keep the friends I have, thank you very much. So how about you, do you risk telling your boss some prickly feedback knowing his thanks might not come until the day of his retirement party after you have been passed over for a promotion 3 times. Or what about the risk that comes in revealing sin, hurts and betrayals. Admitting “I am getting close to the breaking point” can be uncomfortable, but downright risky if we know someone is going to suggest we take a leave of absence from work, enter rehab, or go to counseling. Believe me, that sort of risk runs especially costly when you work under and minister with the very same people you meet for small group with later in the evening. Imagine it with me, you have fleeting doubts of God’s faithfulness and you want to share it but that means you will be sharing it with people who make decisions on your role within the ministry. See what I mean?


So why do we risk? We know we should. I think the same reason I do with my girls. We undertake risk for the prospect of maturity, opportunity of a wide-open future and the expanse of heart and soul. When are you more likely to see the unparalleled hand of God in your own life than when you make a chancy decision in faith of God’s provision? However that provision might look. If you want your life used by God that might mean having an unsafe conversation with someone. It might bring an awkward difference to your relationship but it also might make all the difference with their soul. If our finite minds could comprehend what we are missing by not venturing beyond what we know, the risk would be not risking. Zero risk can get you zero gain, God is going to do what He wants, with or without you.

Sending out

I recently read the following line in a book about missions "No one would ever dream of living in the tropics unless he were either after money or souls." (The Challenge of Missions by Oswald J. Smith). While technology has made city living in the tropics bearable, I tend to agree with that statement every time I go to the bush and experience life in a harsh reality, absent of any modern amenities such as electricity, refrigeration, lights, telephones, running water, etc. I often wonder what has driven these people to choose this difficult life? There must have been no alternative or perhaps the other option was equally bleak.

The method we have used, as a mission, is to make visits to these harsh environments, usually spending a few days each month evangelizing the area and raising up a leader. This is slow work, often complicated by illiteracy and the difficulty of transportation. I have been thinking a lot recently about a different method that I hope to help implement. Why not send a couple to live at a village, even for a short amount of time (3-6 months)? This couple could invest in a few leaders, leaving them more qualified to lead the church in our absence.

What sounds easy and straightforward on paper is not always such in reality. Reality says the local churches lack the funds to send out missionaries. Another challenge is that often the workers willing to go are young and inexperienced in ministry. I'm working with 3 Brazilians that are excited about giving this a shot. Rómulo and his wife Patrícia will be finishing up a commitment to the military in February. They don't have a lot of experience in mission work, but are very excited, willing and available. My friend Allison returned from a missionary training in August and he also is excited about moving to a village and applying some of the training that he received.

I've started a weekly meeting with the three, hoping that we can better prepare them for this venture. We've started reading through "Peace Child" by Don Richardson, which recounts the story of the Gospel coming to a headhunting, cannibalistic, stone-aged tribe in Irian Jaya. I remember reading the book when I was in high school and first became interested in missions. I think about how my romantic dreams of mission-life have changed over the years. I don't want to temper their enthusiasm, yet desire to prepare them for the sacrifices that will be required of them for such a calling.

Even though they certainly don't fully understand to what they are committing, it's exciting to see young people willing to go, not for the promise of riches, but for the fruit of souls.

Rómulo and Patrícia

Allison

sand, birds and a wedding

We are back. While it was a dusty 14 hour ride on the way to Belem; the ocean, bathtub, and croissants more than made up for it. We swam, rested, read and watched movies in air conditioning. A highlight for me (Brin speaking here) was visiting Belem's version of Krogers where I was delighted to find dark mustard, turkey breast, cheddar cheese all within the ambiance of automatic doors and air conditioning. They even had a public bathroom with, wait for it......paper towels. Utterly pleasurable, I cannot even tell you. I have no pictures of it, what was I thinking?! I do have some pictures of our other outings that I believe were more memorable for the rest of the family. We picked my mom and dad up at the airport and spent a few days exploring Belem. The open air market on the banks of the river, a zoo, a heron park and of course Pizza Hut at the mall.

Mom and the girls at the Praça da Republica.
It was hot and the chilled coconuts refreshing.

Our girls preferred searching for random rocks,
shells and even trash to decorate the sand castle that their dad built.

The giant lily pads at the zoo.

At the bird sanctuary.

more pictures of Belem here

We traveled back as planned. I don't want to make much mention of the journey back since it reveals what a priss I might be. I will just say, the plane ride brought me into my house only 10 minutes before Josh's journey of dust and my day poolside was lovely. My mom and dad pretty much jumped into our lives. One of the things they were able to experience with us was Alpha Circles, the Friday night English groups that I lead. I did a talk on contentment. It ended up being one of those (many) times where you give a message but really you are just preaching to yourself.

Cleide translating while I speak in English. There were times in the past where I tried to translate for myself. That was a disaster.

Oooooh, and another big event; Sheyla and Leandro's wedding! Both of them were my former English students that turned into friends. Long ago Sheyla asked Mia and Ava to be her "damas de honra", the Brazilian version of a flowergirl. With enthusiasm, both accepted. However, a few weeks ago Ava evidenced a painful case of stage fright during the Conferencia de Milagres when she refused to dance only seconds before her group was called out. Ella was mortified to be left partnerless. Now, a couple weeks later, Ava's stage fright paid off for Ella in the end when Ava gave up her flower-girl dress. Ella was overjoyed to take it. The wedding was beautiful. It was fun to watch Sheyla throughout the ceremony, remembering some of my lunch dates with her where she interrogated me about marriage. We laughed a lot realizing how much Sheyla and I are alike and how much Josh and Leadro are as well. Many times I left my outings with her asking God to guide her because I knew I certainly did not have marriage all figured out. And really, we are on the same path together, pointing each other towards God.

Ella and Mia.
When I asked Mia what her favorite part of the wedding was, she said when Sheyla and Leandro kissed. About 2 months ago, Ava fell asleep at a wedding, she awoke to everyone clapping when the couple kissed and she was mad at me for not waking her up for the kiss.

Josh and I were padrinhos. Which I would explain as part bridesmaid/groomsmen part role model/Godparent.

Another beautiful part of the wedding was that Sheyla wore a dress given by Josh's cousin Katie (Pflederer) Roth. The gown is in the wedding circuit for other brides in our church to borrow. Also, the girls' tiaras came from their friends Anna and Alia Porritt. It was rather endearing to have a little piece of home play a part in such a meaningful weekend.

See more photos of the Sheyla & Leandro, Chelsea catching the bouquet, Denise singing and other friends

the little things that make a good vacation

I (Josh) originally wrote this post last week when we got back from Belem. Our internet was down for several days after I thought I posted it, come to find out it was never posted. So, here it is, a week later...

It's funny how little things can make a big difference. Air conditioning in our truck, for example. Without it you have to keep the windows down to keep from suffocating in the equatorial heat. But during the dry season the dust is so bad, in places it is like driving through snow. On our trip back from Belem, we passed one hill where a semi-truck was uselessly attempting to climb a dust covered hill (surprising, dust can be as slick as snow). Two more trucks waited to descend and a third was waiting nervously to take his run. We easily maneuvered around them, safely and dust-free in our air conditioned truck.

The funny thing was our air conditioner had recently gone out, not during our trip but a week earlier. After 3 return trips to the mechanic it was fixed, each time I was thinking "I hope this doesn't happen on our way to Belem". Our air conditioning functioned fine the whole way there and back. I have to think God was watching out for us.

Another little occurrence the day after we returned got me thinking again. After running some errands on my motorcycle I returned home to find a flat tire on the truck. It seems it somehow held up through all the bouncing and banging around on the TransAmazon, but sitting in my garage was too much for it. Sure, I could have changed the tire in 95 degree heat and 3 inches of red dust, but I'm sure glad I didn't have to.

We enjoyed a week at the beach as a family, and 3 days in Belem with Brin's parents. Brin and her mom flew back Sunday night, Larry (Brin's dad), the girls and I arriving 10 minutes after they did, after 14 hours on the road. Thanks to all of you who have been praying for our time away. It seems God worked in many little ways to make our time relaxing.


Two years ago, before we went to Belem the first time, we had promised to take Ella to the butterfly house as a reward for a school assignment, only to find out that it was closed. After Brin somehow explained the situation the staff allowed Ella to enter alone, for about 5 minutes. This time around it was open and we all enjoyed it together.

More Pictures Here

Off to the coast

Tomorrow we are leaving for a much needed and anticipated vacation. We'll be driving to the coast, a few hours to the east of Belem, and staying at the beach there for a week. Then we will pick up Brin's parents, who are flying into Belem. We'll stay a few days there until finally Brin and her mom will fly to Altamira and I will drive home with Brin's dad and the girls.

Travel on the TransAmazon Highway is always adventurous. It'll be about 600 miles, and should take in the neighborhood of 18 hours. This time of year, washouts and mud are not the problem, but with the dryer weather comes dust. The dust can make the roads slick, as well as eliminating visibility if you get stuck behind a truck or bus. Hopefully our next post will be more about our time at the beach, rather than the adventure it took to get there.

View Larger Map

São Felix and Beyond

Following is a video of my trip to São Felix. As I elude to at the end of the video, it can be quite a process to understand the needs of a certain region. How exactly should we define whether or not a community is remote? Or what if it already has a church, but it is not reaching unchurched people? Does that mean that community is unreached? These are difficult questions, but ones that need to be wrestled with as our work here expands and we look to where the most need is.

Enjoy the video, and pray with us as we explore where the Lord may be calling our family.

São Felix do Xingu

Our group at the riverfront in São Felix: Josh, Fransisco, Aline, Clyde and Allison

I confess, August truly was a pathetic month for blog posts. Nothing excuses the poor showing of 2 whole posts. Let's hope for a better September...

Meanwhile, I (Josh) just got back from a trip to São Felix with Clyde, a fellow missionary who hopes to move to São Felix in the next year. It was a long journey; 12 hours on a bus... 8 hours in a car... 4 days in a boat... 6 hours in a car... 8 hours in a car... 15 hours on a bus. I'm working on a video that I will hopefully have done in the next few days (actually so far I have just been thinking about working on it).

Until then, here are some pictures:

The main reason for the trip was to get a better picture of the need for churches in the area around São Felix, we decided to explore the Xingu River for 4 days. In a rented boat, we traveled downstream, stopping occasionally to talk to people along the way.

One of the things that struck us was the lack of houses on the river. There seemed to be much more people living inland, possibly due to the popularity of the cattle industry in that region.

Talking to the people along the river gave us a better sense of the need for churches, where the majority of the people lived, as well as a feel for their economic needs. In the above picture we talk with a man who is making a dugout canoe. His daughter lead us through a jungle trail to where he had felled the tree and was busy hollowing out the canoe.

Our boat captain, with one hand on the rudder control and the other on a string which lead to the throttle control. The motor was out of a truck , including the transmission, and had to be stopped by ducking below into the engine room and moving the shifter into neutral.

Each of the three nights on the river we found islands to sleep on. Our hammocks with mosquito nets served us well, except for the one night when we had a rain storm. We all ended up sleeping in the boat that night, and didn't get much sleep.

Allison and I enjoy a cup of coffee in the morning.

Allison, Clyde and I sit on top of the boat as we arrive back at São Felix.

Internet, natural remedies and a trip

I must beg your pardon for the lack of posting. We've been slowly getting back into the swing of things. Not a lot of news worthiness... but here are a few things we've been up to:

• About a year ago a fiber optic internet cable was brought into Altamira, and with it the promise of a new era in the sad saga that is Altamira internet. For those of you that don't know, we've learned to live with dial-up speed (remember 14.4K speen? That's a good day), oh they call it high speed, but then oversell the servers and everybody slows down to a crawl. Anyway, the high speed (real high speed) via the fiber optic line was first offered just to government agencies and schools. The NGO that our mission runs was told they would soon receive the service as well (this was back in February). After a looooooooong wait, we now have high speed. It's almost as if I blocked out of my memory how enjoyable it could be to use the internet, but now I'm actually opening more than one page at a time and am able to, can you believe it, WATCH VIDEO (can you believe Charlie bit his finger??? I mean come on... that's hilarious!). Part of me is saying this is all too good to be true, but for now we're open for business. Please send all cheesy videos and large forwarded emails via Brin.

• Speaking of Brin, she's been fighting a bit of a sinus infection/lung congestion, it may be a new strain of the swine flu, but don't worry, we were given a natural Amazonian concoction that was given to her by a friend. It may or may not include tree bark and very small rocks. Decide fro yourself...

• I (Josh) will be leaving on Sunday (Aug. 23) for an 8 day trip to a new area where our mission plans to open a new base. The town of São Felix is about 300 miles south of Altamira on the Xingu River. It has access to a lot of remote areas by river and roads. I will be going with Clyde Berquist, another missionary, who plans to move to São Felix by the end of this year. We will be traveling down the Xingu, towards Altamira, trying to get a feel for the population that lives along the river and the potential need for churches in that area.

Here is a map of our planned journey:

View My Saved Places in a larger map

Here is a video Clyde made on a recent trip to the area:

a long time coming

Sony and Abi arriving at the airport

After some canceled flights and confusion (which is becoming much too normal for our visitors), Sonya and Abi (Josh's sister and niece) finally arrived last Friday. Abi and Ella, having lived a block away for several years, have always been very close. Abi started talking about wanting to visit since we first talked about moving to Brazil. So this opportunity has been a long time coming. The girls have been busy chasing geckos, writing the script to a movie they plan on making, opening a store to sell various homemade items, and doing a lot of giggling. Meanwhile, the adults have enjoyed just catching up with each others lives.

Click here for more photos

giving biblically

One of the defacto roles that we have experienced here in Brazil has been that of philanthropist (ok, maybe that's a stretch, but it sounds good). Shortly after our arrival here I blogged about how we are able to pass on some of the funds that are donated to us to people that are in need. Since those early observations, we've grown and learned a lot about how we can best help the people in need around us. The numerous Biblical commands and admonitions to help the poor sometime seem to stand in stark contrast to the reality that giving to people in need often robs their dignity and breeds dependency. What was meant to help them often ends up hurting them in the long run.

Like so many things in this life, there is a balance to living out the Biblical mandate to help those in need. We are to give freely, but not indiscriminately. When our hearts break at the condition of some poor soul, we should not just write a blank check, but neither should we walk callously by, saying to ourselves "they'll just buy booze with my money anyway...". So the question becomes not should I help, but how. And this is a question for which there is no easy answer.

The reality of our situation is that we are here to help the local church. The other day I was asked by a friend of mine if I would help with the cost of transportation to a village where a group was going to have an outreach. He was in charge of planing this mission trip for a leadership class at our church. As is the case so many times, many of the students didn't have the money to go. A couple years ago I probably would have just said "sure, how much will it cost?". Instead, I asked for more details and told him to try and make it work first. A few days later he had worked it out, I did end up giving a little bit to help with food, but those that couldn't afford the fee also contributed some food to help offset the price.

I remember a scene from the movie "Dances with Wolves" in which Kevin Costner's character sees how the indian tribe, which he has befriended, is in a position of weakness. A neighboring tribe is about to attack and they are concerned that they will suffer many loses. Costner's character suddenly remembers that he has something that will help them, guns and ammo back at his fort. He excitedly tells them about his stash, before thinking through all of the ramifications. I've often found myself in this position, whether it is planning a youth group event, a mission trip to a remote village, or helping someone afford a much needed medical procedure, I often have resources that will help. But sometimes the best thing to do is let them find a solution to the problem on their own.

So instead of just reacting by extending a fist-full of dollars, we are trying to be more creative with the ways we help. This process of helping, truly helping, becomes one in which the leading of the Holy Spirit is integral.

Thanks to all of you that support us financially and make it possible to bless others. Please pray that we would have wisdom as we seek to not only alleviate some of the suffering we see, but ultimately lead them to the One that can provide true hope and relief.

-posted by Josh

water fun

We packed a lot in the last week of my parents stay here. They leave this morning, after 3 weeks of sharing our lives and hanging out with the grandkids. We're sorry to see them go, but ready to get back into more of a routine.

Here are a few pictures from a boat trip we took and a day-trip to a waterfall...

Waterfall:

Boat Trip:

Dad sharing at a church service at Agua Preta, Cleide interprets.

wood, water and wisdom

This is the third guest post in as many weeks. We 're not intentionally shirking our responsibilities to you, our loyal readers, however, the break has been nice. We hope the outside perspective can give you a fresh angle on our lives here. So here, again, is Josh's dad writing about some of our activities this past week...

Josh and Brin host an international Independence Day barbeque. People with roots in America, Canada and Brazil will come. The girls pull out red, white and blue dresses, Ella makes decorations, we borrow plastic yard furniture from the mission. Josh harvests green coconuts from his backyard for cocoverde and borrows a home-made BBQ pit, made from the wheel rim of a big truck, so heavy it takes both of us to lift it. Josh also points me toward a pile of wood scraps to split for a bonfire that we will build in his back yard, to roast marshmallows and make s’mores.




I am stuck by the beauty of the wood I am being asked to prepare for burning. Some of it is furniture-quality, uniformly sawn and planed smooth pieces of the exquisite lumber from the rainforest, with deep rich grain, so rock-hard that you cannot drive a nail through it, so full of natural oils it will literally last a century without rotting. This wood we will be burn to make s’mores.

A gentle cool breeze blows through the house today under cloudy skies, Josh and Brin know without even thinking to bring the outside things under cover, and within a few minutes the Amazon skies break open to bless us with only the second rainforest rain we have seen we’ve been here, clear, intense, refreshing, beautiful. The river is down to normal now, but we occasionally still see watermarks on houses and buildings by the river, memories of the record flooding from this spring.

Bud shows us at his house where the water came, rising higher than anyone here remembers, covering his porch, only a few inches from entering his house. River village people usually continued during the flooding to live in their simple shack homes, building make-shift platforms inside, living above two or three or five or more feet of water. Tales are told of families losing toddlers who wandered or fell especially in the darkness of the night into the swirling waters, never to be seen again.




Most houses in Altamira manage their water needs by pumping water daily to a holding tank above the level of the house, from which they draw for cooking, bathing, and washing. It would seem logical that there would be a float in the tank to turn on the pump when the water level gets too low, but at least at Josh’s and Bud’s houses, filling the tank is a daily task to be remembered. One can only imagine the implications of this on marital harmony, the prospect all across Brazil of soapy wives left standing in showers under a trickle of water, screaming at forgetful husbands

I make it my business to try to contribute around the house by washing the dishes whenever I can. Nothing here is the same. I do not fill a basin to wash them in. Each piece is handled individually, scrubbed all around by a scratchy sponge which I have rubbed on a bar of soap, then rinsed under unheated tap water. Connie is not completely happy with this situation, one day recovering the contents from a hose left under the sun all day, bringing me a container of warm water. It is quickly gone, however, and I return to the Brazilian way.

More than twenty guests come for the July 4 barbeque, and Josh and I share the cooking of the meat duties. Once again, everything is strange: roasting hamburgers that do not look or cook like American hamburgers over hardwood charcoal in a truck rim in the dark. My hopes of maintaining an even, 3-second fire are impossible. I am in completely uncharted territory. I should never have got involved.

Long story short, we serve hamburgers to all our guests that are very pink in the middle. I have no idea how big a cultural blunder that might be. I try to read the faces of our Brazilian friends, picking gingerly at their hamburgers, wondering how far back I have set the mission work here.




I am invited to give a little lesson at a men’s cell group that meets at Agostino’s house. My heart is burdened, as it has been in many places I have worked and visited, for young men who have not had strong fathers and husbands and male role models to watch. Here are eight or nine young Christian men, meeting with Agostino, an older man who seems to have many of the qualities of a mentor. It is a perfect opportunity for me to encourage them to be strong as young Christian men. We read Psalm 1, I give them all LED flashlights I’ve brought from the US, and we use the flashlights for illustrations. Josh translates, and all the young men seem to be appreciative.

A few days later Agostino invites us to go with him and some others to a beach. A friend takes us on his boat up-river half an hour or so, where we spend a lazy day, watching children swim, eating açai with tapioca and sugar, building sandcastles and talking. The best part of the day is hearing Agostino’s testimony.







When he was young, he says, his life was all about drinking and prostitution. His first wife left him and over the years he has fathered 14 children. It was only four years ago that he became a Christian. One of his sons was a Christian and was holding a cell group in his home. One night he sat in on it, and eventually it lead to his giving his own life to the Lord. He pats his heart. Now, he says, he knows real happiness.

His testimony is beautiful, but not what I expect. When I spoke to his cell group last week, one older man meeting with a bunch of high school and college age guys, I had made an assumption—that he was sort of mentoring them. In fact, the opposite seems to be true, that the son is the older, more mature Christian, who leads the group.

I am reminded of an axiom I learned first at Normandy from a lady who had spent years in the discipline office trying to unravel the endless conflicts surfacing daily among the students: things are never what they seem. Even before that, I remember finding out during the last week of our year living in Montana, that the president of the school board was the wife of the man who owned the local gas station. It was a critically important piece of information in understanding the politics and the troubled relationships between the Indians and the non-Indians who lived in this tiny reservation town, known by everyone but me, and I was learning about it literally as I was packing up to leave.

A high school girl who speaks some English tells me about her father, who has been an alcoholic and absent as a responsible parent all her life. I try to convey what I think I have seen in every culture, the deep hurt that happens in the heart of a child who does not have a relationship with his or her father.

Her response surprises me. She says, I don’t like it when people look at my life and try to say how hard it has been or how disadvantaged I am. There is wisdom beyond her years in her answer.

It leaves me thinking how little I know, how little I really understand about this culture, or really about any other person, how dangerous it is to make quick assumptions, how important it is to ask good questions and to listen patiently, how careful I must be before I try to give advice, that the first rule for helping is to do no harm.

A family outing

Twice a year a carnival comes to Altamira. July is the vacation month, so it's here the whole month of July. Which usually only serves as a source of constant annoyance every time we pass by and have to hear the begging to go ride the rides. However, we decided to celebrate the last day of school for the girls (and a somewhat difficult semester) by going to the death-trap that is the Altamira Carnival...

Ava had to be convinced to try the mini roller coaster,
but by the end she wanted to ride again

Children's Songs

Guest post by Josh's dad, Tom Pflederer...

Our first week in Altamira is highlighted by watching and participating in Josh and Brin’s ministry to the people who live in this remote town and by funny experiences and random snapshots of the curiosities of the culture.

Some of Josh and Brin’s activities are planned. Josh is responsible for maintenance and improvements on the boat, so one day we make the 30-minute run over to Vitoria where it is docked, taking diesel fuel with us and working on the installation of a new generator. One night we get to see the last Alpha Circle of the semester, where the English students from the school where Brin has taught get to show off what they have learned. Another day we visit a small orphanage where each child gets a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste from the USA, and a lesson in proper brushing, and a young woman named Lica teaches the children songs about Jesus.


Loading diesel fuel to take to the boat

Other times the ministry comes to Josh and Brin’s house. On our first full day awake, I am sitting and reading after breakfast when two young people come to the door. Brin introduces them, Flits and Aniele, students from the CDR English classes, who often stop by just to visit and practice English. Brin turns them over to me and we enjoy more than an hour of getting to know each other. They are high school students, so we talk about their hopes for college after high school. Flits lives with his parents, but Anaeli has left her family in the village where she was born, to continue her education in Altamira. She lives with her grandmother. She touches my heart when she says plainly that she does not know who her father is.

Sunday afternoon, nine friends come over, bringing their own TV, to watch the USA-Brazil soccer championship game, a tournament leading up to next year’s World Cup finals. Brazil is the only nation to have won the world Cup five times, and it would be hard to overestimate the place soccer holds in the national psyche and its view of itself in the world. This is an opportunity for relationship-building and honoring this culture. Josh feeds them coke and popcorn and chocolate chip cookies, which they have never had before. They bring a Brazilian flag and cheer raucously when Brazil scores, which doesn’t happen until the second half, when USA is leading 2-0. I cheer with equal fervor for the USA but am privately pleased when Brazil scores the winning goal in the final minutes of the game.




The funny experiences started before we even got here, being denied seats on our flight from Rio to Belem, even though we had an itinerary and ticket receipts in our hands. So we spend an extra eight hours or so exploring the Rio airport. We are exhausted, of course, falling asleep sitting up, walking around today scoping out the airport for a flat place to lie down. Connie looked longingly through the window at a padded bench at a booth in what appears to be a high-end restaurant, deeming it beyond our means, and finally we find a little chapel with cushioned pews where we take turns lying down and sleeping, until people begin arriving for Mass and we are shooed away.

Curiosities so far include huge, free dental floss dispensers in the restrooms at the Rio airport, an odd amenity, I think, but I press the lever and out pops about 8” of string. So I do what I can to melt into the culture, as if I am perfectly accustomed to walking around the airport flossing my teeth. Or, it occurs to me later, was I supposed to do that in the restroom?

On day we take Ella and Ava to the ranch for an overnight youth activity. The ranch, where I had spent a day with team of Brazilians in hard physical labor pouring concrete floors, is now complete enough to use. The grounds—I would estimate several acres—are neatly mowed. In a hardware store with Josh yesterday I saw two very small lawn mowers for sale. One of them looks almost like a toy, a miniature machine with cutting width barely half that of typical mowers in the states. I ask Josh if they use such mowers at the ranch, trying to imagine cutting such a large area with a 12” mower. No, he says, they mow the entire thing with weed-whip trimmers.




Sunday morning we walk down to the market. All the churches in town meet Sunday evening because the weather is cooler. The market is a sensory overload, an explosion of color and texture and smells and sounds and sometimes a taste, where you can buy vegetables and fruits, some familiar and some that we have never seen before, such assorted items as live chickens and peacock bass, blankets (OK, could you sell a refrigerator to an Eskimo…?), gaudy watches, spices, coarsely ground grains of all kinds, T-shirts and hats with impossible English wording, women’s tops of every conceivable size and color and degree of coverage, cows’ hooves and jowls and other better-unnamed parts that you will probably not find at Schnucks, the fruits of the Amazon.




Many things remind us of Japan, in spite of stark differences in geography, culture and, most strikingly, population density: so many people want to practice speaking English, the refreshing excitement and chaos of young churches, the passion of new believers, the creativity with which they reach out to unbelieving friends, their determination to plant God’s love and truth into the hearts of children.

When Lica was teaching the songs about Jesus to the children at the orphanage the other day, I was reminded of Hidemi in Japan, and Brin translates as I tell her story. The first time Hidemi came to church with us, she sat and wept as we sang. Why? we ask. She tells us that for one year when she was five she attended a kindergarten run by Christians and learned children’s songs about Jesus. For the next 25 years she had never heard those songs again. But tonight when she heard people singing again about Jesus, she remembered, and her heart was opened. Later in the evening, she prays to receive Jesus.

I thank Lica for teaching the children songs about Jesus, and Lica weeps.

July Newsletter

I recently sent out a newsletter, you can read it by clicking on the photo above. We send out newsletters at least twice a year. If you would like to be put on our mailing list please let me know, and indicate whether you want a paper copy or an email.

take a deep breath...

This post by Jane Thorson, a friend down the hall in Memorial Dorm, College of the Ozarks, 15 years ago. And now a lifelong friend.

somewhere in between Porto Do Moz and Gurupa, Brin and i were looking out at the amazon river, and she told me to take a deep breath...to breathe in the fresh air that the amazon (the lungs of the world) produces. she had this really philosophical idea about how she would remember taking these deep breaths while she lay on her death bed...very deep stuff.

and so, i've been taking alot of deep breaths lately...breathing in the amazon air, of course, but also breathing in the life and culture of the amazon.

i didn't know exactly all that i would be doing when i made my plans to come visit josh and brin. all i knew is that i wanted to see what their life was like living in altamira...in the amazon river basin. but a couple days after arriving in altamira, brin and i joined a team of canadians/brasilians/missionaries on a river trip up the amazon river to the port city of Gurupa.

their goal was to deliver water filters to people living in villages along the amazon river. my goal was to get the chance to see the amazon. i think we both got a lot more than what we expected!

for ten days we slowly traveled up the river, stopping at different villages that one of the brasilian pastors had surveyed earlier. during the day, the canadians would deliver around 8-10 water filters to the families in the village where we had stopped (by village, i mean a few houses clumped together) and brin and the missionary doctor would set up a makeshift "clinic" where they would do consults with the people in the area. while the adults were visiting with the doctor, a couple other people on the team would be painting children's faces, passing out candy and little toys, playing frisbee and of course soccer with the kids. (that's the team i joined!)
then in the evening, we would hold a small meeting in one of the family's homes. sing some worship songs, share some testimonies, preach the word, and pray for people.

it was great!

it was cool to see how open the brasilians were to strangers coming into their homes....it was inspiring to see how brin and the missionary doctor sat with people, listened to their hurts/pain, and gave them physical hope (medicine) and spiritual hope (prayer)...and it was encouraging to see the brasilian church working along side the canadian church in ministering to peoples felt needs. i couldn't have asked for a better picture of the amazon.

and all along the way, i was taking deep breaths:

i breathed in the friendliness of the brasilians...the smiles from the children and adults...the amazing fruits of the amazon...the refreshing river baths...the art of sleeping in a hammock...the adventurous travel in canoes through the tributary rivers off the the amazon river. the joys of living together in community...and of course, the amazon air itself, sometimes scented with tropical flowers.

i know...as i go back home, i hope that i will continue to take deep breaths...
maybe not of the air (although the air in omaha isn't that bad?!) but more importantly, that i will breathe in deeply the life and culture of the place GOD has me for this time in my life. because i know that HE has things there for me, just like i've experienced in the Amazon.

so wherever you find yourself at the moment...don't forget to take a deep breath...

heading off into the remote tributaries of the amazon!

some of the amazing cacao we enjoyed on the trip!

the smiling faces!

Brin translating as i shared a testimony!

relaxing in our hammocks!

painting faces

brin doing her medical things!

setting off to deliver some filters