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

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.

Growing Pains

I like this tree. There are a lot like it here in Brazil. The cleared ranch land that surrounds it today was most likely very different when it was growing to that height. Like most trees in the jungle, it probably spent most of it's early life striving to reach the distant heights of the canopy, where it could get sunlight. So much of it's focus was upwards that it spent no energy putting out lateral limbs. No telling what forces caused that bend towards the top. Whatever it was it must have seemed overwhelming at the time.

Our family is in the midst of a difficult time. Brin especially has had some difficult days. It's hard to identify any one cause, but the result has been almost overwhelming. We leave in a few days to renew our visas in Santarem. I'm hoping it will be the break we need and will return with new life. Please pray for us over the next few days.

Fun with Grandma and Company

For the last week or so we've been entertaining Diane and Tara (Brin's mom and sister) and Emily (a friend of Josh's family). We've been showing them all the sights of Altamira as well as giving them a little picture of what our lives are like here. They leave tomorrow and we will be sad to see them go.

A True Jungle Missionary

Naldo piloting the motorboat up a jungle creek at dusk.

Brin and Emily jumping from the Maranata II


We've had a busy couple of weeks. On the heals of our trip to Maribel we left for a short trip on the river. We did have one day rest before leaving again, but we also picked up some more guests (Brin's mom, sister and a friend, Emily).

This river trip was unique in that we traveled in a small boat up a creek for about 30 minutes to the village. As we left it was just getting dark, on the return trip it was pitch dark, except for the stars that we occasionally glimpsed through the jungle canopy. Upon getting home, Brin and I commented on how much the trips had taken out of us. Then we realized that Pastor Naldo had gone on both trips as well. The difference was that along the way he took time to minister to countless people. Not only does he seem at home on the river (after all, he was born on the river and raised "drinking milk out of a turtle shell" as Pastor Clenildo jokes) but he also has a natural ability (and desire) to connect with the people.

It's easy to forget that people like Naldo have lives outside of the work here. Fortunately his wife was able to go along with us on the river trip. Even as I write this Naldo is probably planning his next trip to a remote village. We are privileged to be working alongside men like Naldo whose passion reminds us why we are here.


To learn more about Pastor Naldo read this post from back in April .

Bem Vindos

Can I even tell you how excited I am?! My mom is here along with my sister, Tara! Along with them came Emily who lives with Tom and Connie in St. Louis. Josh is really outnumbered but I am going to have a ton of fun. We headed off to the river right away so more stories to come soon.

btw: the girl in the picture with the blue shirt is Meredith Kubacki who came along to the airport for the ride.

New Creations

One of the communities we visited

Brin and I are back from an evangelism trip into the interior to a location named Maribel. Maribel is our farthest work. It takes 3 days by boat in the rainy season, and about 8-10 hours in a vehicle. Because of the remoteness we expected to see lots of wildlife, and we weren’t disappointed. Among other things, we saw (and/or tasted) paca (a large rodent, the size of a small pig), a snake, a jaguar, a jungle cat (smaller than a Jaguar), and Brin and some girls on a team saw a crocodile while bathing in the river. It was dark and they were stark naked, Brin adds. In nearly every village we visited we saw a flock of butterflies at the beach.

It would be a stretch to call the communities that we visited “villages”. Most were just a few houses at most, separated by vast jungle and river. We visited 4 such locations, in each place we were warmly received. We held services in the evening and Tim saw people with health problems each morning.

An evening program

Pastor Naldo prays with some of the locals

Pastor Clenildo, from our church in Altamira, tries to bring a group at least 3 times a year to this area, providing discipleship to the believers and always leading more people to the Lord. We saw several people make commitments to the Lord. Pastor Clenildo is such an effective evangelist and pastor. It seems natural to him to visit a family, trade hunting or fishing stories, tell jokes, but always challenging and encouraging them from the Bible.

So many faces stand out to me as I think back over our trip. Each of them telling a story about a hard life lived in isolation and separation from the rest of the world. As I watched Clenildo teaching about the parable of the wise builder and the foolish builder I was reminded of the seemingly impossible task of discipling people so remote. Clenildo seems unaffected by those doubts and concerns. He takes every opportunity to encourage them, fully expecting the result to be changed lives. Here is one example of the challenges before him; I walked up to him once finding him writing out the alphabet and the sounds each letter makes. After a moment, I realized he was giving a discipleship booklet entitled “New Creation” to a man that could not read. I was witnessing an ad hoc literacy class.

Pastor Clenildo disciples (and teaches literacy)

During one of the services, Orlando, a man who came with us on the trip got up and gave a testimony. Orlando married Teresa, a woman who grew up in this region, and years ago they were living on a ranch near Altamira when Clenildo lead them to Christ. It is because of Orlando and Teresa that Clenildo now works in the Maribel region. When Orlando, a rough looking middle-aged rancher, began to share with the group, I knew he was speaking from his heart. It was apparent that he was not comfortable with public speaking. He went on to share about how Clenildo told he and his wife about Jesus, how they struggled to give their lives to Him, and now make frequent trips back to this area because we wants others to experience the same hope that he has.

Orlando

Although I didn’t understand everything he said, I understood his heart. I saw in him a new creation. I didn’t know him before he knew Christ, but now he is gentle, kind man with a body that hints at the hard life he has lived. It was then that I realized that discipleship in this context is possible, that new creations can result from this difficult work.

I was reminded again of the butterflies we had seen earlier. Metamorphosis is a marvel of God’s creation and a metaphor for what happens when a life encounters Christ. That miracle is not dependant on sophisticated methods or access to the most modern spiritual training. In the end it’s still a miracle. Something simple becoming something new and beautiful. -JTP

Nikki and Brin inspecting the butterflies

Cleide's Big Day

Mia presenting Cleide with a frosting kiss

Cleide jumping on the Bergen's homemade trampoline

Vatapa and Rice, a traditional Brazilian birthday dish that we served

We hosted our first brazilian 15th birthday party. Brin spent most of the day in the kitchen with 3 or 4 brazilian ladies cooking and conversing in broken portuguese. She spent most of today recuperating from the ordeal. Cleide, the birthday girl, was surprised and I think a bit overwhelmed. We were happy to host the party, knowing that her mother would not be able to give her a proper party. I'm glad our girls are still several years from that all important age of 15.

To tell you a little about Cleide.... she lives with her mom, who is on disability. The check from the government is too little for her to live on and often late. Cleide helps watch our two youngest in the mornings (much of what she makes helping us goes to support her and her mom). But more than that she has become part of our family. She is one of the few Brazilians in Altamira who speaks English almost fluently. She has picked up English mainly from being around missionary kids and their families. We know God will use Cleide in the future. She is already learning to play the guitar (in the hopes of playing in the worship band) and she has just recently begun to help with translating. Probably within the next few years she will be helping with teaching English at the English school.

This morning when Cleide arrived at our house she was still beaming. I often see young girls like Cleide that probably have very few people in their lives that show them Godly love. Someday Cleide may have a role in talking to some of those young girls about the love that she has experienced in her life, and pointing them to their loving, heavenly Father.