The Assurini

I just got back from another trip, this time to an area called the Assurini. It’s an area named after an Indian tribe that used to live there and is now mostly ranches and homesteads. Our church has been working in 3 locations for about 7 years. This was the first time we were putting on a weekend-long retreat. Read on if you’re interested in the details, otherwise you can just look at the pictures and I’ll never know…

The Location

The Assurini is a large area across the river from Altamira, accessible only by barge. There are several roads that provide mostly seasonal access to the many ranches that scatter the hilly region. A rancher named Orlando became a Christian some years ago and has been catalyst for our church work in that area. We stayed at his place and had meetings there on Sat. and Sun.

The TLC

The retreat we had, or TLC, is a leadership retreat that the churches in Altamira have at least a couple times a year. This was the first time it was done in the Assurini. It consists of large group meetings as well as small groups that discuss things like worship, cell groups and new beginner classes.

In one of the small groups my friend was teaching guitar lessons. He said it was hard because they couldn’t read, I said “You mean they couldn’t read music?”, he said, “No, they couldn’t read words”.

The Baptisms

Of all the bodies of waters that I’ve seen baptism take place, I think a jungle creek is my favorite. As I expected from Brazilians, it was a joyous and celebrated event. I really liked the way they sang praise songs during the baptisms. I hope their simple faith and joy comes through in these photos:

The Team

I traveled with a group of guys that I’ve been doing a lot with recently. A couple of them are old friends of mine (Beto, my language instructor and Alison, a buddy I had given a guitar to), but there are a few that I am just getting to know. One of the guys told me (using my loose translation skills) that he wanted me to “come into their group” (referring to his friends) and that when I’m not there they say to each other “so falta Josh” (which sort of means, we are just lacking Josh).

We did have many laughs together, including when I took them to the river to swim and some of the guys were riding on top of my truck, while driving on a jungle logging road I couldn’t resist to drive under some low hanging limbs, smacking them around a bit. They got a real kick out of it and declared that I was “brasilerio” now (brasilian). For those of you sitting their stunned that I was trying to knock some nice young men off my truck, don’t worry, it was just good ol’ fashion male bonding.

-JTP

Planting in Surubim

Our church here in Altamira is busy planting several churches in the region. Most are not on the river but within a few hours drive of the city (see map). Usually pairs go out once every couple of weeks to have a service. Sometimes young people go to aid in this work, and occasionally I, or one of the other missionaries goes to help.

The trunk of this enormous tree laid rotting on the ground behind the stump.

Surubin is a village where one such work has begun. I went on a day trip there yesterday with a group of about 9 young people. The village itself is not our target, there are already a couple other churches there. We traveled 30-40 minutes past the village and deeper into the jungle on a road accessible only by 4 wheel drive, to an area where there are several homesteads. Homesteads are land the government gives to individuals if they are able to maintain crop production. These plots are usually very remote and therefore difficult to get to. No one visits these people. Wanted criminals know this and sometimes choose to relocate to these areas, living in virtual obscurity (in fact, a month ago in this very area, a man wanted for a killing spree down south was found after his picture was shown on TV).

So it is to these remote, lonely and sometime desperate places that we are called to plant churches. Our first stop is at a house where the owner is described to me as a community leader of sorts. After watching him, I realize it is his personality that has put him in this position. Gregarious and friendly, I watched him warm up to people quickly. The plan was to travel throughout the area visiting as many homesteads as we could in the afternoon, inviting people to the evening service. Two guys in our group brought motorcycles, so they each took someone and headed out in different directions. I was paired with our friend the community leader, I’ll call him Mr. Z, not for anonymities sake (you’ll never find this guy) but because I can’t pronounce or spell his name, and one other young man from our team. It made for an odd scene, my younger, inexperienced partner and I, along with Mr. Z, who by the way is not yet a believer, traipsing off through the jungle in my Landcruiser, inviting people to the service and handing out tracts.

Mr. Z and Emerson (left) talking with a neighbor.

Mr. Z was warmly welcomed to every house we went, and as guests of his, we were as well. We visited 6-8 houses over the period of about 2 hours. All were genuinely happy to have visitors and were glad that our group had come to put on a service. As an American, who spoke funny, I was often the butt of Mr. Z’s humor and joking. As we headed back to Mr. Z’s house to prepare for the service, we picked people up on the way who had already begun the long journey on foot. I had about 14 people packed inside, standing on the bumper, and hanging on top of my truck.

Another mile down the road we picked up several more people.

We counted about 70 people who showed up for the service. This was not a planned service. People simply dropped what they were doing and came. I don’t know if people came because they were hungry to hear the gospel, or if they just jumped at the opportunity to get out and see their neighbors.

The evening service.

We planted the pits of 5 mangos the other day, in hopes of getting one healthy tree out of the bunch. Planting churches is kind of like that. I don’t know how long it will be before they have a church building or regular weekly meetings in this area. Or if they will ever have a healthy, vibrant church. But it seems like what I saw was the beginning of a sprout just coming up through the soil. A church at its most raw beginnings. It was a beautiful thing. If you think of it say a prayer for Mr. Z, he would make a great pastor.

Worlds Apart

I’m astounded by both the similarities and polar opposites between American culture and Brasilian. The equivalent of a state fair is going on in Altamira right now. I went with a group of friends the other day and in some ways I felt I was in some parallel universe. On the one hand they had the requisite carnival rides, cotton candy and candied apples, livestock barns, carnival games and food stands. Almost like someone came to an American state fair and took notes.

But everything, it seemed, had a Brasilian flair to it, with which a careful look would revel how decidedly different our cultures are. Take for example, the rodeo. Beforehand, the announcer brought out all the cowboys (the of which is borrowed from English), they stood in a line and a prayer was said. I was shocked to see the cowboys, not only take off their hats and bow their heads, but many of them dropped to their knees, raising their hands to heaven as if they were in a worship service. At first I thought this must be a Christian rodeo, but then I realized this was just another example of the tendency towards drama, to make everything into a big production.

Later that evening someone from our group bought everyone a meal ticket at a hotdog stand. Before I realized what had happened, someone handed me a ticket for a hotdog. Not really sure that I even wanted to eat a hotdog, I found myself feeling rather sheepish that I was forced to accept a gift from someone that probably couldn’t afford it. What to me was an uncomfortable moment, was to everyone else quite normal: someone wanted to eat, they had money when no one else did, they couldn’t eat in front of everyone else, so they bought everyone some food – it was as simple as that. The hotdog was fairly normal, but the curve was thrown as I looked at all the toppings. Everyone else in my group was heaping everything from corn to peas to cabbage on top, I settled for ketchup, but noticed everyone laughing at my naked hotdog. I tried to explain that I’m not entirely Brasilian yet.

We found this clean, American looking vendor very out of place in Brazil,
but weird toppings and raw meat (hanging just out of the picture)
brought us back to reality.

My next awkward moment came when I realized I was going to need something to drink with my hotdog. I noticed one other person had bought a soda and was sharing it, so I thought I could do that. After taking a drink I handed it to a girl next to me. She took a drink and handed it down the line. I watched as my soda traveled further from me, wondering if I would ever see it again. I stealthily walked to the end of the line so I could intercept it for drink.

I laughed with Brin about this later. If I were hanging out with friends back home, I wouldn’t think twice about buying a drink for myself. I assume if they want one they will buy one themselves and I’m sure not going to turn my soda can into a communal chalice to be passed from person to person. It’s amazing how affluence can breed a selfishness that prevents us from seeing the needs of others. Having less forces us to look at things less as ‘mine’ and more as ‘ours.’ …I like that (except for the sharing of the drink part, that’s just gross).

-JTP

homeroom rocked and we so ruled the 7th grade! Have a great summer dude!!!!

Last week we hit a milestone. One year in Brasil. I'm not going to say all the clichés like "I can't believe it's been that long" or "Man, time really flew by" or even "What a wild ride it's been". Those sound too much like the rambling notes in a junior high yearbook. To be honest, the past year has been something beyond my ability to put into words. In some ways I probably haven't processed internally all of the changes our lives have seen. It's easier for me to just trudge on then to stop and reflect.

We hear from missionaries that go home about how much everyone and everything has changed. While that may be true to some degree, I think probably unsuspecting to them, they are the ones who have changed. Can a person be put into a completely different culture, with different values and customs, and expect to come away unchanged? Change is good, but change, I think almost without exception, is painful.

And so here we find ourselves, a year into this adventure, knowing that God is changing us, but also acutely aware that our flesh can also dictate that change. In difficult times I always have the choice to harden my heart, becoming bitter and self-reliant, or the more difficult choice: to let go of self, soften my heart and throw myself at Jesus' feet.


So to celebrate our one year anniversary, we spent the night in a hotel. I made up some award certificates and with some cheesy names like "Most Friendly to Brasilians Award" (Mia), "Giving Us the Most Laughs Award" (Ava) and "Most Brasilian Friends Award" (Ella). My award, "Fastest Learner of Portuguese Award" was either a cruel joke, or shows the ineptitude of the judges, I'm not sure which.

I suppose milestones are important. On the one hand they help us to recognize that we've accomplished something. On the other they help us recognize (at least in our case) that we are truly here only by the grace of God.

Thanks so much for all of you have been such an integral part of helping us make it through our first year!

-JTP