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.