Açai

In our yard we have Açai trees (ah-SAH-ee). Açai is a fruit that the locals love to drink and love to tell you how good it is (we still aren’t convinced). So we would probably not bother picking it except for Açai’s other quality, you can make beads from the seeds.

Brin wanted Açai beads, and not just any beads, but from our tree, so I called a Brasilian friend over to show us how to pick them. The fruit looks deceivingly like blueberries, but taste nothing like them. It is mostly seed, only the thin outer layer has any usable pulp, so it takes a few bushels to make any significant amount of juice.

You may have heard of Açai, we hear it is a bit of a trendy fruit right now because it is high in antioxidants. In this earlier blog you can see pictures of what it looks like when you drink it.

I’m still trying to figure out how to get the seeds extracted from the fruit. Another friend is supposed to come over and show us how. I’m not sure what Brin plans to make with her beads, but this better be good.

(If you're a fruity person and want to read about another interesting Brasilian fruit, click here)

Dances, Ugly Boys and Pepsi

Our social calendar was busy this weekend. Friday night saw us with dinner guests and then later at our church's "Conferencia da Dançar", which translates literally to "dance conference," but it's more like a dance show. I had helped with some of the tech. aspects of the event so I knew it was going to be an impressive affair. It's a huge outreach and they go all-out for this semi-annual event. Even the news cameras were there (which begs the question, "Is there really nothing else in Altamira to report?")


We were busy all day Saturday with people coming and going, including an "Adventure Club" that brought 15 youth to our house so they could chat with Americans. They wanted to see authentic dollar bill. Later that night we took some Brazilian friends out to a local restaurant. Something they probably very rarely do. They know us well enough to speak slowly and help us understand the words we don't know. The conversation was relaxed enough to even be enjoyable. Except for when I asked their two boys which one was older (mais velho) and they understood it as which was uglier (mais feio). I must be improving because now I'm just being misunderstood, instead of actually saying the wrong word (although I still do that plenty, as well).

Sunday night we were invited to a birthday party for one of Brin's English students. We were out-numbered by 4 Brazilian families. Much of the conversation moved too fast for us to follow. One of them told of a Pepsi advertisement they had seen on the internet. The story was about a boy using Coke cans to stand on so he would be tall enough to reach the Pepsi button on a soda machine. They all got a laugh at it. Brin and I were more amused at the fact that probably none of them have ever actually seen a soda machine in real life.

The Least of These

I was reading the other day in Galatians and something struck me for the first time. In chapter 2 Paul is defending his calling as an apostle. He talks about how he went to Jerusalem and met with the disciples Peter, James and John. At that time the disciples were still focusing on spreading the Gospel to the Jews, and here comes Paul who is preaching to the Gentiles. After talking to him, they decide Paul is legitimate, and they essentially give him their blessing.

Here is where something hit me. Verse 9 and 10:

“They agreed that we should go to the Gentiles, and they to the Jews. All they asked was that we should continue to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do.”

Here were the disciples, who had lived with Jesus for 3 years, watching him and listening to his teaching. After talking to Paul they were convinced he was preaching the same Gospel. The thing that concerned them was not some doctrinal point or some issue that they wanted Paul to adhere to. Rather they said only this: remember the poor. The poor?!? What about eternal security? What about works? What about church discipline? To the guys that hung out with Jesus, the defining characteristic of a Christian was how they treated the poor.

To see this spelled out so clearly by the early church leaders has served to confirm some things that have impressed me over the past year. For the first time in my life I live in plain view of poverty. I can’t avoid the brokenness and helplessness and I’m forced to find a place for it in my theology. I don’t have all the answers. I do know, for some reason, this is very important to God. His heart is broken when he sees someone exploited and oppressed by society.

What responsibility do I have in reaching out to these? Can I go on ignoring a problem I know exists, but often seems so distant? Why are Christians more known for their stance against welfare than being actually concerned for the welfare of others? What must I do to distance myself from this label?

The questions remain, but I've been put into a position that I can no longer ignore those questions.

-JTP

so long, farewell

The Simon family left yesterday, the beginning of 3 months of furlough. If their family is going to be in your neighborhood consider inviting them over for a meal. Or you could give Suzanne a Target gift card (so she can experience what I am always pining for), or volunteer to take the kids out for an evening at ChuckECheese (so Caleb can experience what Ava is always raving about). Or grab them for a chat because they have plenty of stories. If you want to keep up with them check out their blog here.

Open Hands

We took the above picture because Brin wanted to document a couple things. The rashes, 3 different kinds, on her arms and hands is just the latest of many skin ailments she has had since our arrival here. But this picture is more about remembering where Brin is in her spirit. Isaiah 42:3 reads, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice.” In many ways Brin has felt lately like a bruised reed (a picture comes to mind of a broken reed, doubled over but still alive) or a smoldering wick. John of the Cross wrote about “a dark night of the soul”, a time when a person loses “all the pleasure that they once experienced in their devotional life. This happens because God wants to purify them and move them on to greater heights”.

Identifying what you’re experiencing and then being able to move past it are two different things. Maybe you have had such times in your life; you are tired, lacking passion and motivation for life, struggling with anxiety that won’t loosen its grip. So we do what we are supposed to do: read the Bible and claiming the peace and joy promised us, share our struggles with others asking them to lift us up before our Father. But nothing seems to work. The feelings and emotions, or “pleasures of our devotional life” as John of the Cross puts it, don’t follow. We are left with the same ugly thoughts and problems.

Yesterday I had an especially vivid prayer time for Brin, asking that God would be glorified in what she was going through. And I’m beginning to see that happen and have hopes that in sharing our struggles with you God will be glorified all the more.

In the days since we took the picture Brin has continued to struggle. The rash is gone, but her “dark night” is not. We have, however, experienced some victories. The Word has begun to speak to her once again. Yesterday, a package arrived from a friend back home, it included a bible study for Brin, including DVDs with teaching. Brin was so excited to get it and the topic, living in the Spirit, was just what she needed. This morning she read me a verse that spoke to her from the study:

“We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.”

2 Cor. 1:8,9

“But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God”. In that phrase there is hope for Brin. A purpose for suffering makes the suffering more bearable. Giving glory to God is essentially saying, “look what God is doing”. Sometimes that glory puts us in a place we want to be, sometimes it doesn’t. Regardless of where we are, God wants us to know He has us there for a reason. And that is good enough for us to open our hands to him and say, I trust you.

Time Away

We arrived back from our trip to Santarem. The break was good, but now we find ourselves trying to figure out how to live out some of the changes that we know we need to make in our lives here. In the meantime, a few things about our trip…

…Our meeting with the Federal Police regarding our visa renewal seemed to go well. We are still waiting on one document from the U.S., and they may ask for more at anytime. The important step of getting your application in on time seems to be behind us. We were also blessed to have Don Best, a missionary from PAZ who helped us with some of the driving around and translating that we needed.

…On our first night away Brin noticed a book in the guesthouse where we were staying. The title caught her attention and after she read the page it was opened to she was hooked. The book “God is Not in a Hurry” was just what she needed. It seems a previous guest had left the book for someone else to read. I think God knew Brin was coming and needed that book.

…Our time at a house that some PAZ missionaries own in a resort town was a pleasant surprise. The rustic, small house was nothing to get excited about, but the privacy was just what we needed.

… After 3 nights at the beach we returned to Santarem for a couple nights at a hotel. We happened to choose a hotel that was hosting the “Topajós Top Model” competition. They were practicing strutting their stuff while we swam at the pool one afternoon. Later that night Ava was imitating them while posing for a picture (see the results below). If a modeling competition sounds glamorous, it wasn’t. About all we experienced was the loud music thumping into our room until about 3 am.

…One night we ventured into a cemetery that had candles burning around a gravesite. After talking about death for all of a minute and a half Mia was ready to go. As we passed an old lady on the street afterward, Ava asked if she was the dead lady (referring to the gravesite we had just seen). Sometimes it’s nice that we can talk without the people around us knowing what we are saying.