Felipe

Precocious, willful, inquisitive, obstinate, a real pain in the butt.

Felipe burst into my world in July 2004 in Ubaúna. He was like a wild animal, into everything. The classes we were  having with the children were continually being disrupted by Felipe. He was like a kid with ADD on steroids. Impossible to control.

Fast forward to last week.

250+ children in classes, the equivalent of herding cats. And in the midst of all the clamor, what did I hear being repeated time after time: “Felipe!” He was everywhere, into everything. A virtual whirlwind of disruption and destruction.

The kids were given the task of gathering trash in the streets and bringing the bags back to the school where the classes were being held. They were to receive a prize for each bag of trash they brought back. Felipe immediately began stealing the trash bags from the younger children. Once caught doing this, he began taking trash out of trashcans instead of picking it up on the street. I was ready to execute him on the spot.

Then it hit me. He’s screaming for attention. With that, a new strategy surfaced — give him what he’s desperate to receive.

I made him my “official” helper. I put him to work, promoted him, gave him what he wanted.

The transformation was instant and complete. Anything that needed to be done, he was there. No more “wild indian” running around, but a little leader assuming his responsibility.

Before the week ended, Felipe accepted the Jesus Lord as his really big boss. His mother would not allow him to be baptized and this broke his little heart. I told him as we were leaving that I would make it my utmost priority to talk with his mother when I return about him being baptized.

He smiled a really big smile . . .

Virgílio

Virgílio was our bus driver. A jolly ol’ soul was he.

Some of you know a friend of ours, Greg Pittman. Virgílio could pass for a brother of his. It was almost scary.

Virgílio likes to talk; he loves telling jokes; he’s always laughing, patting you on the shoulder and wanting you to interact with him. He can wear you out; he’d make a great politician. He is always eager to please — he reminds me of a puppy dog that is always happy to see you and always chasing his tail. A really nice fellow.

Virgílio is/was a spiritist, a practitioner of umbanda, a version of macumba, voodoo. He always pulled away from us when we began talking about Jesus, even telling Arimar that he didn’t want to talk about him.

Virgílio went with us into the umbanda terreiro or temple. He was in the circle we formed in the middle of it when we prayed — we, the enemy, right in the Evil One’s front yard, calling on the Spirit of the Holy One to come and be present. He, a soldier of the same, holding hands with the enemy on his “home” turf.

Virgílio was attacked the moment he stepped out of the terreiro by an evil spirit. Possessed. Taken control of. Unable to shake it off. “An electric force gripping my arm and squeezing hard on my chest.” His face contorted, grimacing; head pulled down to his chest, right arm desparately pulling on the left.

We were instantly on him, clamoring with power before the Jesus Lord to release him. And he did. Just like that.

Virgílio was obviously shaken. He must have made the sign of the cross 50 times in the space of a minute. He was crying, voice quivering. I told him that he needed another power, one stronger than the one that grabbed him. He looked at me strangely and kind of grunted, “yeah.”

Virgílio was a captive audience. For more than four hours on the bus heading back to Fortaleza he talked with Valgledson and Allison, two of our Brasilian teammates. By the time he arrived, he was saying he would be attending church with them on Sunday.

Virgílio took us to the airport at 5:00 in the morning. He was crying. “I’ve never met anyone like this group,” he stated. “You ask nothing for yourselves and just give, give, give. What is it about you?” Since I was sitting with him in the front seat, I told him simply that it’s all about the power of the Jesus Lord; the power creates love and moves us into action. I told him that he could have it too. He said, “Please don’t leave me alone.” I told him that he wasn’t, to seek out the body of believers where Valgledson and Allison worshipped, and he could have what we have.

Crying, he quietly said, “I will.”

Correction

I think I gave myself a disclaimer on the piece on the numbers (too lazy/busy to go back and check). The numbers were provisional until I could confirm some of them, especially the baptisms and conversions.

Well, I was wrong. So, the corrected numbers are:
• Baptisms: 19
• Conversions: 79

So beat me with a wet noodle! Instead of 60 new believers we had 79. Based on my notes, of which I’m missing a few, I honestly think the number may be closer to 100. But, since I can’t “prove” that, I won’t claim it. I’m just glad that God does a better job at watching the numbers than I do

We had 28 on our list to be baptized, but due to conflicts and logistics, we only actually baptized 19.

Just wanted the record straight . . .

Natália

I sincerely wish I had her picture . . .

She was a cute as a bug. Long brown hair with slight curl, 4 years old, but looked like 3. Held in her mother’s arms, she was holding on to mom stronger than mom was holding on to her. She only looked at me a few times, but she had the biggest brown eyes. Pretty face, angelic.

Her mother, Maria, had come forward when I’d invited anyone who wanted us to pray for or over them to stay after the service was over. This had been our last service and it had been outside. The day in Ubaúna had been just like the others, hot, humid, sweltering. The decision to hold the evenings service outside had been wise. A nice breeze had kicked up after sunset and it was almost pleasant. We’d had between 225 and 250 present. It’d been a good night. We’d had an amazing number of people wanting prayer. Maria was the next-to-last one that I got to and she’d been waiting for over 30 minutes.

I wasn’t prepared for the response to my inquiry to Natália’s mother. I’d simply asked her what her prayer request was. She informed me that it was for her daughter. She was continually seeing “sombras” or spirits. When she saw them, they would continually be visible for days. This would frighten Natália and she’d be unable to eat or sleep. She would cry, whimper and continuously want to be held in her mother’s arms. This had been going on for over a year and Natália was losing weight and developing health issues from the lack of sleep and constant anxiety.

How do you respond to a request like this?

Fortunately, after a week of intense spiritual clashes, I knew exactly what to do. And I did it.

Two passages immediately came to mind:

For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places. [Ephesians 6:12]

But you belong to God, my dear children. You have already won a victory over those people, because the Spirit who lives in you is greater than the spirit who lives in the world. [1 John 4:4]

This child was innocent. She was being affected by someone around her. When I questioned the mother, it so happened that Maria was the friend of a “macumbista” — one who actively sought the spirits for solutions to her problems — and the friend lived next door. Often the friend would have spiritist activities occurring in her home and these acitivities coincided with little Natália’s “visitors.”

I urged the mother to accept the stronger power of the Jesus Lord, but she resisted. So I called upon the powers of heaven to protect and shelter little Natália. I thought of the story of Elisha’s servant, frightened of the King of Aram’s power. God opened his eyes and let him see the immensity of the army of heaven surrounding the enemy.

When the servant of the man of God got up early the next morning and went outside, there were troops, horses, and chariots everywhere. “Oh, sir, what will we do now?” the young man cried to Elisha. “Don’t be afraid!” Elisha told him. “For there are more on our side than on theirs!” Then Elisha prayed, “O Lord, open his eyes and let him see!” The Lord opened the young man’s eyes, and when he looked up, he saw that the hillside around Elisha was filled with horses and chariots of fire. [2 Kings 6:15-17]

This was exactly what Natália needed. This was exactly what I prayed.

I would love to know what has happened. I continue to pray this power and blessing for Natália. I hope the Lord blesses me with the knowledge of how little Natália has fared. I would ask you to join your prayers with mine for her.

Struggling

Whew! I’m still looking for the license plate of the truck that ran over me!

I’ve always found that about 3 days after getting back from Brasil I really get pounded physically. This time it seems to be occurring on day 2. Did great early on — I think the prospect of worship at LP jazzed me up (and I wasn’t disappointed!) — but now in the afternoon I’m fading fast.

At least I know that I’m not suffering alone! My queen is down and out, Jeff, Brad and June all gave me the “me too” confirmation this morning. Haven’t talked with JP but I’m willing to bet R$100 (i.e., 100 reais — Brasilian currency) that he has run into the same wall.

So many thoughts to get down on monitor phosphorous but so little brain power to do it! Hang with me, I’m chomping at the bit to tell you about little 4 year old Natália who is plagued by ghosts, the spiritual shootout at the cemetary and the queen Macumba lady giving us the evil eye by riding in our vehicle with us. I’ve got to let the desire catch up with the ability to stay vertical.

Stay tuned!

Visual connection

Dang! I just can’t let it go today . . .

I’ve been perusing the almost 2,500 photos that the team took while in Brasil and this has created some hard-core flashback stuff. I’m not even back for 24 hours and I’m already tripping on what took place.

I am blessed to be associated with some absolutely awesome folks. I wouldn’t be afraid to go into any situation with any of them. We experienced some really powerful stuff, the kind of stuff that makes your hair stand up on end and goosebumps to run dragstrip races up and down your spine. Each one of these guys (sorry gals, you’re a “guy” for this discussion) engaged the enemy like David taking on Goliath. Though frightened (just like Joshua was), when I yelled “charge,” they did! We saw the enemy get his butt kicked, and I do mean literally. Even though he counterattacked, we did too. As we stood on the Evil One’s home turf, from which he temporarily retreated, we yelled, whooped, danced, and sang praises to the Jesus Lord until we were hoarse. Though the war isn’t over yet, we now are absolutely confident of the final outcome.

JP, Brad, June, Arimar, Jeff, Rodrigo, Valgledson, Allison, Valdimário, Antônio and Edileusa, thank you for allowing me to serve with you!

For those of you who are inspired by what they accomplished or will be inspired by what they accomplished as you learn more, and are interested in a future trip, please let me know.

Initial Reflections

Ok, I’ve been back for every bit of 16 hours. Feeling better, a bit more peppy. But I will not complain when bedtime rolls around again.

The trip was a good one. Definitely a productive one. Lots of hard work began yielding some remarkable fruit.

The image that comes to mind is that of a dam that has developed a crack at the base. This region of Brasil has belonged to the Evil One for longer than we can imagine. It is a stronghold. He’s ruled with an iron fist and the town of Ubaúna is a reflection of his rule. In fact, Ubaúna has amazingly served as the capital of his reign.

A simple jaunt 13 miles down the road to the neighboring town of Frecheirinha shows a stark contrast: clean, inviting, happy people, vibrant — even in the heat. Ubaúna is the opposite.

As a result of the activities of this expedition, the staunchness and iron control has developed a crack. This crack is a fast spreading crack. It threatens to turn into a gapping hole. Holes in the side of a dam usually spell the doom of the structure. Such it is with this one . . . the king is dead, long live the King!

I really don’t mean to be melodramatic. The fact is that a fundamental change has occurred in the spiritual fabric of Ubaúna. The folks involved in this trip, Americans and Brasilians, can be proud of the way they served their Commander. They truly were warriors for the Way. I believe that we will look back on this trip in the very near future and be able to say that it was the beginning of the end, or, from the Jesus-Lord’s perspective, the beginning of the beginning.

Like my title states, this is an initial reflection. Bear with me as I work though my thoughts and impressions. I’d be very interested in hearing yours after reading mine.

Hangover

Sometimes I just feel old . . .

Today is one of those days. We got back into RDU about 11:45 p.m. last night and made the exceedingly long drive back to Wilmington, arriving between 1:30 and 2:00 (a.m., mind you). Got home, fell into the bed, woke 8 hours later with the sense that Napolean’s army had marched through my mouth and over my body! Whew! Funky!

Coming back to consciousness is good. My queen (Arimar) and I have just blown through 2 hours of nonstop talking. We’ve been pouring over our experiences, comparing notes, making comments, disagreeing over what actually happened and generally savoring this most recent Brasilian experience.

I’ve got lots to share — bear with me. I’ll be putting much more up over the next few days. I did upload about 30 new pixs last night while in Miami so check them out. I’ll be putting up many more in some sort of organized manner (keep checking back).

Be sure to be checking Jeff and Brad’s blogs. I can’t wait to see what they’re going to be writing!

By the Numbers

How do you go about trying to describe what happens to you over a week that is typical? It really is more difficult than you think. How do you go about describing a week that has just blown your socks off? It presents quite a dilemma, I can tell you.

I’m choosing to give you snippits, little insights to events that happened.

Our number one goal was to support the planting of the church in Ubaúna. We planned to work with the childred living in extreme poverty, work with the children in general, encourage existing Jesus followers and present an interesting evangelistic event every night.

We did it all!

Some simple numbers:

• Conversions — 60+
• Baptisms — 19 (both of these numbers need to be tallied and I do not have them available at the moment as I’m flying over the Atlantic Ocean)
• Children attending Bible classes — 250+ each day
• Teenagers attending youth activities — 40+ each day
• Nightly average attendance at evangelistic events — 153
• People specifically requesting healing prayer — 69
• Children receiving a “food basket” that would guarantee a meal a day for 10 days — 126
• Pounds of beans, rice and powdered milk given away — 1 ton
• Macumba temples visited — 1
• Cemetaries entered at midnight and prayed against — 1
• Spirits cast out — 1 (this will be a story in itself)
• Macumba mediums (“pastors”) directly, and knowingly, encountered — 3
• Number of bottles of water consumed in 4 days — 169

The numbers give interesting insight on our activities, do they not?

Wiped

As I write this I am on an Airbus A320 flying at 37,000 feet over the Amazon jungle. I’m tired. No, I’m almost completely exhausted. I would be hard-pressed to function normally if I were in my typical, daily routine. The task of getting through immigration and customs in Miami looms as an extremely unpleasant task that I’ll have to muster up enough reserves to endure in about 6 hours, as does the 5 hour layover in Miami and the 2 hour drive from Raleigh to Wilmington in the wee hours after midnight. My brain glazes over just thinking about it.

Why such weariness?

Physically, this trip is always hard. The flying takes more out of you than you would assume. Our first day in Fortaleza is always spent trying to recoop from the flight. It would be a notable mistake to head for Ubaúna the day after driving, flying, and sitting in airports for over 24 hours.

The trip to Ubaúna is another drainer. You never know exactly how long it will take — usually between 4-6 hours, depending on the state of the roads.

Ubaúna is almost always hot. I don’t mean Wilmington hot, I mean equator hot. This time of the year, normal day temps can run anywhere from the low 100’s up to the 120’s. We were fortunate this trip. I don’t think we topped 110. I have experienced 130+! If you’ve never tried to function in that type of heat, you really haven’t “enjoyed” a real, life altering experience.

Hand in hand with the heat is the humidity. You wouldn’t think a desert region would have much humidity; Ubaúna, though desert, is close enough to the ocean that you enjoy the worst of both worlds — heat and humidty wrap themselves around you like a wet blanket and seem to suffocate you. You can literally feel your energy being drained away from you. “Swelter” is the perfect word to describe it.

If you add sleeping in unfamiliar condtions (like in hammocks), exposed to the elements (like sleeping in the open on a porch), getting only 3-5 hours of sleep nightly, dogs barking, roosters crowing, vehicles passing at high speeds less than 50 yards from where you’re sleeping, bats and birds making bat and bird noises, going as hard as you can for 18-20 hours each day (did I mention the heat?), trying to function in a foreign culture, and having any age on you at all, the result is exhaustion.

I hit that state on Wednesday night at a little after 1:00 a.m. (I guess that technically would be Thursday morning). Ask any of the team . . . I understand they got a number of chuckles at my expense at that point.

Our last night in Brasil saw us getting to bed at almost 2:00 a.m. No big deal until you have to be up and heading to the airport at 4:15 a.m. I feel like I have a hangover.

Looking around the cabin, I see that my fellow travelers are in a similar state. June is sleeping so hard that she is almost drooling; Jeff has those funky eye blinders on and has his head twisted hard to the left, nose upwards pointing, mouth wide open; Arimar is curled up like a puppy in her chair (she’s the only one who can do that!); Brad has an expression on his face, eyes closed, similar to a drunk; and JP kinda comes and goes with little cat naps. I just simply cycle through passing out and trying to read or type (I cannot sleep on an airplane!).

So, please bear with all of us over the next few days as we try to recooperate from our journey!