We arrived with our myriad soccer balls, blowup animals and colorful crafts, all of which the kids couldn’t wait to kick, bend, glue and whatever else kids do while squealing and fluttering around like hummingbirds. At one strategic point in our visit, we gathered all the children and moms together for our official program which consists of a ‘rousing’ puppet show, a few songs led by me in my lousy Portuguese, some words from a team member about how God’s love tangibly collided with his or her life, and a time of prayer led by my Dad. Pretty straightforward stuff if you grew up anywhere near Christendom.
Gloria, our Brazilian spitfire, closed our time by explaining to the 30 or so moms and kids that if anyone needed prayer to come forward where a few of us were ready to pray over the needs. Before she’d completed her sentence, a four year-old boy sprung from his chair, clutched his mother’s arm and determinedly led her to the front. Yanno was so little that I was certain he didn’t understand what was happening. I was thinking faithless thoughts like, maybe he thinks we asked for kids to come forward for candy.
He shyly explained that his family had lost its home and barely had any food. He said his mom Mara was sad, words she confirmed with slight nods and a hopeless gaze. We prayed for their physical needs and committed to helping them however we could. My Dad explained the beauty of the gospel, how forgiveness through Jesus would forever change them. Mara and Yanno welcomed this Savior into their lives that day.
When Jesus makes an entrance in the middle of standard, Christian camp fare, I don’t know why I’m so jaw-dropping shocked. I couldn’t fathom that a boy so young could understand that God was his Answer. How guilty I am of motioning through the mechanics of a program, misplacing my expectation on the process rather than the Person of Jesus who said, “Let the little children come unto me.” Of course a four year-old could get it!
As we made our way toward the boat for the next village, I hated to say goodbye to Yanno. I felt a strong sense that he needed to be blessed, unofficial as anything I could bring him seemed. So I placed my hand on the top of his prickly-haired wigs head and prayed a blessing over him – it was just the two of us. He must have been wondering what this shockingly white woman was doing with her hand on his head and why her speech was so strange and unrecognizable. I asked God to set Yanno apart like King David. I don’t know why that specific plea, though my urgency for him to be blessed has now become clear:
A few days ago I received an email from Gloria entitled, “Yanno, The Boy From Chita.” She relayed to us some tragic news that while Yanno was in his new house with his Mom and baby brother, Mara was struck by lightening in front of him. After vainly trying to shake his mother awake, he picked up the baby and waded through the river until he found a fisherman who could help.
Yanno is seven years-old. Mara would not be revived.
Gloria has since discovered that Mara was baptized weeks before the lightening struck her. She had gotten back with her husband and the family was attending a jungle church in the village. These expressions are powerless in and of themselves, yet when attached to Jesus they are vibrant signs of a heart transformed by Him. Mara knew Jesus and He welcomed her into His presence that day.
I’m not writing to saddle you with despair or sadness, we have enough coming at us from countless streams. I’m writing out of the discovery that comes from a story like Yanno’s that is still being told. I have no idea why if God had the power to lead us to this boy, He wouldn’t use that same power to thwart the lightening that struck his mother. Without a satisfying answer, I believe that the Spirit who led that little boy to the front of the room for prayer three years ago, was the same One who knew what Yanno would one day face. When God whispered in my heart, “Put your hand on that child’s head and pray for him because he’s special” I didn’t know why I was praying, but God knew.
And now I know too.
Yanno and his family will need our support over the coming years. I pray I will be able to see him when I return to the Amazon this June. I pray His experience of Christ and His church will be ever sufficient in the midst of unspeakable tragedy.
Dear Father, thank you for sending us ahead of such loss. And as we now come behind it, may Christ and His church be the filling Yanno and his family desperately need. Amen.
*A few friends snapped family photos backdrops that day in Chita. This is probably the only picture Yanno will possess of his mother and him. A gift Gloria will bring to him on her next visit.
Abundance Events
I just returned from the first ever Abundance Event in Houston, TX. Next stop: Minneapolis, MN on April 27-28. I’m taking a moment to write about it because it was that awesome. Because I’m hoping you’ll be able to gather with us for one of the remaining three Abundance Events of the year (Event Info and Video Here). First off, it was amazing to be out on a “work” weekend with friends: Angie Smith, Lisa Harper, Tammie Head, Jen Hatmaker, Angela Thomas, Travis Cottrell, Jennifer Rothschild, Keely Scott (Compassion), Melanie Shankle (BigMama Blog), you get the idea. It was like summer camp without the smores, although we did sneak Tex-Mex in there.
What I loved most was that the event provided an amazing blend of highlighting the abundance God came to give with the call to give our abundance away. There was opportunity to give in big and small ways, especially since many local ministries unique to Houston were represented. Since Christ called us to be co-laborers with Him and not just spectators, Abundance offered a tangible way for us to be involved with international and local ministries. Oh, and if you came on dead-empty, there was no pressure to do anything but simply receive the abundance of Christ’s love. Brilliant.
My Mom In The Jungle And Other Ramblings
“And you will be my witnesses…to the ends of the earth.” Never do these words of Jesus mean more to me than when I’m in the jungles of Brazil. I’m not sure what constitutes the ends of the earth, but if ever a region deserved this title, the jungle would have as good a shot as any for ends-of-the-earthness. I just returned from my fifth trip there in connection with a ministry called Ray of Hope. They’re a local, on the ground mission in Manaus that exists to serve the people who live along the vast and glorious river we call the Amazon.
My experiences there have forced me to rethink the various elements of my life, thus my Christianity as a whole. So here I am, attempting to blog about this latest trip while it’s fresh on my mind, while I can still smell the scents of the Amazon and my spirit’s still buzzing with the excitement of meeting people who are living the Christian life in ways I’ve scarcely encountered. More than anything, I want to write about the unrivaled joy of serving with my family, my mom in particular this time.
Yes, my mom came with us for her first time, the trip’s first miracle. How shall I put this? My mom doesn’t do bugs. She doesn’t do camping, roughing it, excessive heat. She really doesn’t do roaches the size of rodents, leaping tarantulas, or scorpions that lurk in people’s shoes (people meaning us). And when smartypants people say, “Well, most tarantulas aren’t dangerous”, I want to respond with, “Does this matter when the spider is the size of your face?” The whole Amazon caboodle is not really my mom’s cup of tea. Actually, tea is her cup of tea, as in Earl Grey in an English cup that’s perched on a coffee table inside someone’s home that has central heating and air. Going to the Amazon was a tremendous act of obedience on her part, one I don’t take lightly.
Nehemiah and Jungle Pastors
On Feb 1st, my 3rd bible study releases, Nehemiah: A Heart That Can Break. On Feb 3rd, I leave for the Amazon jungles of Brazil for the 2nd Annual Jungle Pastor’s Conference that several of us started with Ray of Hope last year. Without being overly dramatic I feel attached to Joshua’s words to the Israelites before they were to cross the Jordan, “Consecrate yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do amazing things among you.” This is a sacred time as I look back over a year of studying and writing about Nehemiah with two trips to the Amazon thrown in. It is not lost on me that 2 days after this study releases I will have the privilege of meeting up with 65 modern-day Nehemiahs, 40 of them pastors and 25 of them pastor’s wives. We will gather together for the 2nd time in jungle history to study, worship, fellowship, catch piranha and eat a lot of tapioca. (I am personally packing Kind Bars this year.)
Stuff I’m Writing And Reading
As some of you know I spent all of last year studying and writing about the book of Nehemiah. Well, I did other things like eat and sleep and complain about how “hard” this all was. I traveled some and cooked as many meals as time would allow. I spoke a lot and met a lot of people which was fun, but I discovered after all these years that I might be a bit of an introvert. I realized, while sitting in the midst of my bible, commentaries, laptop, and utter silence, that this space made me very happy. More than all these little joys however, steeping myself in Nehemiah has changed me, and I hope it will do the same for you. The study and videos release on Feb 1st, but more about all this in the next few days…
Happy New Year
I’m about to pluck the ornaments from the Christmas tree and wrap the lights into a quasi-organized ball of tangles. The mantle will be cleared, and my Vietri Santa sugar and creamer that my Mom graciously splurged on for me will be put away until next November or so. The shimmering green, silver, and red wrapped Hershey’s Kisses will remain on my dining room table until they’ve been eaten, because I think you can get away with those well into January. It’s when you’re offering them to guests in August that they become a problem.