Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

The song of ages past

The song of future light

The song of what can be

The song of all things right

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

Whispers of what’s to come

Peace that fills the soul

Beauty that overwhelms

Love that makes me whole

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

Good things come

To those who wait

And anything good is

Worth waiting for

 

It’s not about what you must not do

But about all you’re free to give

To open up the space inside

For the sweeter song to live

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

Of promises fulfilled

Of sacrifice and denial

A life hard and untraveled

But always is worthwhile

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

Of commitment that lasts a lifetime

Built on holy information

When you listen to deeper desire

Over instant gratification

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

You know the notes and the tune

You find yourself singing along

Don’t forget the price you’ll pay

If you forget to sing the sweeter song

 

The pain in choosing the narrow

The price in saying no

The waiting for tomorrow

The sorrow of letting go

 

All makes the song sound sweeter

For the pressure of the present

Makes the beauty of reward

And a joy effervescent

 

He makes all things beautiful

He makes answers for our problem

He makes sweeter songs to be sung

For the glory of fulfilling them

 

Let me sing to you

The sweeter song

 

 

 

I get more out of watching TED talks than in going to college. Yet another good one is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qp0HIF3SfI4&list=PL70DEC2B0568B5469.

“People don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it…The goal is to do business with those who believe what you believe…people will do things that prove what they believe.”

Living Stones is in the hump. I have all the resources, I am putting the information out there; we have a solid program, and are doing a wonderful job at completing our objectives (we are providing over 1000 meals and reaching over 150 children a week on a monthly budget of $1000). But for some reason, we have our faithful few givers, but are barely receiving $500 a month. How to get over the hump?

“What you do is just the proof of what you believe.” What do I believe?

• I believe God loves children, and the poor, in a special way
• I believe children are more open and ready to hear about Jesus
• I believe prevention and early intervention are the only ways to end generational poverty

And this is why I am working with impoverished children.

• I believe God chose to work through the local church and discipleship
• I believe lasting change comes through community
• I believe that to really make a difference you have to be in community with the people you are serving

And this is why I am working with churches/Alcance.

• I believe the proper self-esteem to succeed in life is found through your identity in Christ
• I believe it is vital for children to know that God made them and has a plan for their life. That God sees them.

And this is why I do the $10 FOR THEM birthday parties (www.wribrazil.com/10forthem)

• I believe that reading and education open up a world of opportunities
• I believe that every child should be given the opportunity to read God’s Word for themselves

And this is why we have the LITERACY FOR LIVING STONES program (www.wribrazil.com/literacy)

• I believe that basic physical needs (food, shelter) must be met before someone can open up to hear about Jesus
• I believe that trying to help someone spiritually without caring for their basic physical needs is wrong

And this is why we make sure the children are receiving basic nutrition through the $5 FOR 5 program (www.wribrazil.com/5for5)

• I believe that life is better with Jesus—now and forever

And this is why I am giving my life to telling other about Him, currently doing this through Living Stones. And we need faithful donors: www.wribrazil.com/foundationbuilder.

• I believe that for every person who needs to receive in this world, there is someone who needs to give
• I believe God uses, and will provide for Living Stones because (as long as) we are being His hands to these children that He loves
• I believe that God loves these kids more than I do, and so somehow, He will provide for them

And this is why I unashamedly ASK. Ask you to be a part of Living Stones. Ask you to give of your time, money, and energy for these children. Because I know it will bless you, and it will bless them: and it will make a difference.

 

As I walked up to the church, Jaciara was washing her clothes in a wheel barrel. She looked at me sheepishly before I could ask why. “The water has been out.”

In Northeast Brazil, smaller cities are used to not having water. Many are set up on a one day on, couple days off system. Anyone who can afford it has a huge plastic water reserve, perched on top of their home like a chimney.

For Jaciara to have to bring all her clothes to the church to wash meant the water had been out for at least two weeks.

With the World Cup in 2014, Brazil is stepping up to look good. A new stadium was built 45 minutes from my apartment, and everyone is in a frenzy to keep up. The “highway” that connects all our smaller cities with Recife is being doubled (which means TWO lanes going each direction, instead of one). This might not sound like much, but it has been almost 20 years in the making, and has made me swallow more dust than you can imagine.

Brazil takes a long time to get things done, but once they finally do, they do it well.  They have been bulldozing and building and digging for the past couple years, with overpasses and bypasses and roundabouts where previously had only been semi-paved roads with potholes the size of meteors. And the Brazilian people have been rerouted and waiting in stop-and-go traffic daily—this is the one road that connects them to the bigger cities.

Most Brazilians have the patience of Job when they see progress being made. But not me. I grumble and complain about the dust and mud and extra walk since the road suddenly moved or is closed. I complain about the higher prices now that more people are moving into town, and the pollution the extra vehicles are making. Never in America, I tell myself, would they wait this long or pay this much for progress.

To double this road, they had to take out part of the water system in Guadalajara. So they gave money to the local government to build another pump to supply water to that area. This money, just like the pump, was never seen or heard of again. Jaciara lives in this area of Guadalajara.

Before dawn the people in Guadalajara, fed up by now, gathered a bunch of old tires and made a barricade. They stood around it in strike. No water, they said, no road.

I sat on the bus on my way to Living Stones this morning. “I’d like a ticket to Cajueiro Claro.” I told the ticket man. “No. We can only take you to Paudalho.” I thought he was joking. No, he said, the road is closed. I called Pastor Flavio, and told the ticket man to explain the problem, as I was in disbelief. Flavio told me to go home, I couldn’t get through.

Brazil confuses me. They go so long with nothing, or being exploited, and then explode in all the wrong places. It isn’t the fault of the people using the road that they don’t have water. They need to take their tires and strike to the local government that lined their pockets with the money for the pump. Instead, they wash their clothes in wheel barrels. Instead, the road is closed down, the people rerouted or sent home, and everyone just comments, “Eh, it’s Brazil.”

This Easter season I printed out Ann Voskamp’s “Trail to the Tree” Devotional. It is free on her site www.aholyexperience.com and I highly recommend it. I am a big fan of extending any holiday as long as possible, and this has 17 days. The first one begins with a tree. I mistakenly thought “Oh, how cool! All the trees in the Bible until that tree (cross).” The devotional, Trail to the Tree, does not do this. Which meant it needed to be done.

*

Trees were created on the 4^th day: right after the stars and before the fish. Two trees were so special they got capital names: one was called “Life” and the other “Knowledge of Good and Evil” (rather long, but still). These trees had powers in their fruit. Sounds like the beginning of a good story. Ehh, not so good. You know what happened.

Then trees were used for hiding. Hiding from God, hiding from nakedness. Not used for shade, for sustenance, but for cowardice. Leaves: the first underwear. Wasn’t our finest hour as humans. And so those two trees were guarded by an angel with a big sword, and not for us. But not forever: the tree of life returns…in heaven (Rev. 22:1-2).

Trees are cut and used to make sacrifices. Trees get cut and built into an ark. They were flooded but seeds survived. Then the father of nations, Abraham. He liked trees. Sitting under them, at least. And planting them (Gen. 21:33). I think that is a beautiful part of calling on God. Plant a tree first. Why aren’t there any sermons about that?

Jacob used trees to trick his uncle (Gen. 30:37), and all the trees of Egypt got stripped in the 10 plagues. For the Israelites, there were all kinds of rules regarding the trees when going into the promised land, and, of course, one out of every 10 pieces of fruit went to God. Does sharing with my sister count?

In Judges, a particularly mixed up and ugly part of Israel’s history, a bunch of brothers get killed by a half-brother and there is a parable about trees (Judges 9—I studied all the references for trees. I don’t know this off the top of my head). The first king of Israel also liked sitting under trees, and was then buried under one, after he lost his head (1 Sam. 31:13). King David’s son, Absalom, got his hair stuck in a tree and was dangling until he was stabbed to death (2 Sam. 18:9). Depressing.

Trees were used in decorating the temple Solomon built (1 Kings 6:32—palm trees, specifically), and will also be in the future temple in heaven (Eze. 41:18). Which leads me to the point: God’s favorite tree is the palm tree. So is mine. Palm trees are the specific type of tree mentioned most in the Bible. (Including as a sexual innuendo in Song of Solomon).

Throughout the rest of the Old Testament, trees are used as a symbol and physical reminder of God’s blessing and prosperity (Ps. 37:35), and the lack thereof, or removal of trees as a punishment (2 Kings 3:19). In Proverbs, four things are like a tree of life: wisdom (3:18), results of righteousness (11:30), hope fulfilled (13:12), and a healing tongue (15:4). Nebuchadnezzar had a dream that Daniel explained about a tree. Sad ending: it gets chopped down.

Then the New Testament and Jesus. He compares people to trees and our actions to their fruit (Matt. 7:17). Luke 13 has his story about a man who planted a fig tree: if there are no figs, what will he do? We find out what Jesus did to a non-fig fig tree: withered it (Mt. 21:9). I’d rather have the “move mountains” option rather than “tree withering” if given the choice with my faith.

There is the funny story of the trees that walked (Mt. 8:24), that always makes me wonder why Jesus had to heal him twice. In a traditional American folktale called “The Tale of the Three Trees” there are three trees cut down and made into a manger, a fishing boat, and a cross. As pretty as the tale is, the manger was probably made out of stone. But I will give you the other two.

Jesus was a carpenter during that whole “quiet time” of his life from age 12-30. He probably spent more time with trees than with people. Makes me wonder what he was thinking. “I am God…thou art a piece of wood…become a table!”

Galatians 3:13 makes it clear that you aren’t supposed to get yourself crucified. But there was a plan for this tree/hanging/crucifixion since before time began. And while I can’t call this quick review of the 200+ times the word “tree” is used in the Bible “Trail to the Tree,” this is following through to that culminating tree.

I pause, as scenes from “Passion of Christ” invariably come racing through my mind. I want to shut them out and skip to Sunday. But the trail to the tree hasn’t stopped. I am grafted into that “tree” (Rom. 11:24). And don’t forget, I’m still looking forward to meeting that tree called “Life.” Happy Easter and God bless!

A good language teacher doesn’t correct, they rephrase. “I writted this paper!” receives the reply, “Oh! You wrote the paper?” to which the student responds, “Yes, I wrote the paper.” Brazilians have done this naturally, consciously and unconsciously for the past nine years that I have been learning Portuguese.

One of the first times they did this was when I told them I worked with impoverished children. Underpriviledged. My vocabulary simplified to just criancas pobre, poor children. Their replies were, “Oh! Criancas carentes.” Hum, said my brain, carentes is the word I use here. So filed away in the recesses of my mind became the idea that “Pobre equals poor, carente equals needy. Needy is the proper term.”

Fast forward some years, to when I had a deeper conversation with a Brazilian friend about what I do. When speaking Portuguese, my brain still trips over my mouth, trying to move faster than it is able. I use whatever vocabulary is close to whatever point I am trying to make, and sometimes I grab the wrong word. I used pobre to describe one of the children.

My friend stopped me. “You don’t mean that. To a Brazilian, who has nothing, he is working his whole life to gain something—to make it just a little bit better. Life is already against him and to call him ‘poor’ is throwing in his face that he isn’t going anywhere. We say ‘needy,’ because who doesn’t need something sometime?”

It reminded me of all I was trying to learn between the verbs “Ser” and “Estar,” which always returned me to the age old difference of “I am joyful” (the permanent “To be” that describes things that don’t change) because of Jesus and the “I am happy” (the fluctuating “To be” that floats as far as your whims). Pobre is to Ser what Carente is to Estar. Because who doesn’t need something sometime?

My friend continued, “You may think this is something little, but it isn’t. You’ve been taught your whole life you can do anything you put your mind to. That is the label you were given, and you believed it. Those who are needy in Brazil, they haven’t been taught that, they’ve never been believed in. And to then label them poor is to kill any hope that might have been born in them.”

Words are powerful. Even the ones we say, ignorant of the hundreds of years of culture behind them. Fast forward to today, when I open my Bible to Matthew 5:3 (“Blessed are the poor in spirit”). Inquizitive, I wonder which word will be used. There it is: “Bem-aventurados os pobres em espritito.” Pobre. Not Carente. Because who doesn’t need something sometime? But my job is to learn I need everything at all times. From God.

I hope that becomes my label: Pobre. Because I want the promise in the rest of the Matthew 5:3. Because I want to become more like Jesus. Because I realize I don’t know one iota of anything there is to know, but I know that I can trust God, and He does know. Because I’ve experienced that nothing is worth it without Him.

The small chocolate Easter eggs are $5 each. Take into mind that I have 40 children at Cajueiro Claro, 70 at Mussurepe, 100 at the dump, and almost 50 at Carpina and 50 more at Guadalajara…that is a lot of money. And in Brazil, having a chocolate Easter egg is rather central to Easter. But buying chocolate by the kilo and doing your own mold is much cheaper, thank goodness.

So what do I do? Buy the chocolate and thank God that the cook at Cajueiro Claro doesn’t mind doing that kind of thing. And hope that the children at the International school come through with their promised chocolate eggs. I bought 6 kilos of chocolate so far. Dang that stuff is heavy to carry around everywhere.

Our budget is low. We have almost run through last year’s surplus to make it (just the basics) month to month. There is no money for anything special this Easter. So I am hoping and praying and doing the basics that if I don’t get reimbursed for, I will still feel was money well spent from my own account. The homemade chocolate eggs are only $1.50 eachJ.

We painted rocks again this year. For our Easter egg hunt. Reuse any idea that works, is a good motto. Throw out the ones that don’t: we will not be having a live sheep at this year’s Easter party.

I went to Josefa’s house to celebrate her 6^th birthday. Oh, what wonderful hugs 6 year olds give! She had gone through half my bag of things before I could tell her that her present was in the other bag. Grin. They grow so fast.

 

We color on the ground and up against the car, trying not to get the pictures dirty at the trash dump. One girl hands me some grubby fruit that she picked for me. I wince inwardly, wondering how healthy it could be, growing here in the dump. I put them in my pocket to wash and eat later, and then forget and have someone sit in my lap. Oh well.

And some days I fall apart. physically, mentally, emotionally. I think crazy thoughts. I act out. In my head. I lock the door to my room so I can’t do anything I would regret involving anyone else, but lose the war with myself. Crumpled again, I turn to Him, and he says “Come.” (Mt. 11:28)

When you are in the middle of a fight…dang. The adrenaline is racing and life slows down…and then it is over and you are thinking how dumb that was, but it really was entertaining and exciting, and the one thing you want to tell everyone about.

So we had one. A fight. One boy throws gum at another. The other boy throws it back, and it gets in his (gumboy’s) hair. Gumboy talks about the other boy’s (momma’s boy) mom and walks over to me. I start trying to get the gum out, wishing there was peanut butter in Brazil. Momma’s boy comes over with thunder in his eyes and I start pushing the two of them apart. Gumboy is much smaller and doesn’t want to fight anyways. Momma’s boy is throwing punches and one glazes my nose. Time goes by slowly and I am thinking—“Here I am again.”

I stand like Samson, trying to keep the two boys apart. Gumboy starts hiding behind me. Mamma’s boy has three smaller boys trying to hold him back.  I get gumboy into a locked room where everyone else can deal with momma’s boy and I can try to remove some gum.

My nose hurts.

I talked to each of the boys. The other workers had never delt with this kinda thing before. They calmed down really nicely, gum boy was scared of mamma’s boy, and mamma’s boy was sorry he hit “Titia’s” nose. I told them they were both kicked out and we could never have anything like that happen again. They were both to blame. If they wanted to come back, they would have to wait a bit, and apologize to all the boys for what happened. And to my nose.

We are your sons, your daughters, your nieces, your nephews, your grandchildren. We are in your Sunday School classes, pews, choirs, and pulpits. You choose not to see us out of ignorance or because it might upset your congregation. We ARE your congregation. We enter your doors weekly seeking guidance and some glimmer of hope that we can change. Like you, we have invited Jesus into our hearts. Like you, we want to be all that Christ wants us to be. Like you, we pray daily for guidance. Like you, we often fail.

When the word “homosexual” is mentioned in the church, we hold our breaths and sit in fear. Most often this word is followed with condemnation, laughter, hatred, or jokes. Rarely do we hear any words of hope. To those of you who would change the church to accept the gay community and its lifestyle: you give us no hope at all.  If we accept your willingness to compromise, then we must also compromise. We must therefore accept your lying, your adultery, your lust, your idolatry, your addictions, YOUR sins.

We do not ask for your acceptance of our sins any more than we accept yours. We simply ask for the same support, love, guidance, and most of all hope that is given to the rest of your congregation. We are your brothers and sisters in Christ. We are not what we shall be, but thank God, we are not what we were. Let us work together to see that we all arrive safely home.

Here is the official link: http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/justintaylor/2013/03/21/an-open-letter-to-the-church-from-a-lesbian/?fb_action_ids=10152670168275099&fb_action_types=og.recommends&fb_source=other_multiline&action_object_map=%7b%2210152670168275099%22:584470851571513%7d&action_type_map=%7b%2210152670168275099%22:%22og.recommends%22%7d&action_ref_map=%5b%5d

Great artists know that isn’t just about what you create, but what you leave out. The blank space on the page, the conclusion left unstated. Today I read the Bible and think of all the things it doesn’t say. It caught my eye in Luke 4:1 “He was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where he was tempted by the devil for forty days.” We don’t get to hear those temptations—just the last 3, after Jesus got good and hungry. What were those other temptations? Sex?  Drugs? Gambling? Homosexuality? Curious-er and curious-er.

What about what Jesus wrote in the sand with the adulteress? What was that thorn in Paul’s flesh? Why are there so many things specifically NOT said that I want to know? Why doesn’t the Bible say anything specifically about masturbation? Why do so many things need to be explained by cultural context that are lost in the pages of history? Polygamy and war? Old Testament God, sometimes I curl my lip up at You.

I like to think that someday, I will get these answers. I am working on reconciling myself to this “someday” being in heaven. The Bible is a pretty big book as it is—normally takes me a year and a half to “Read through the Bible in a Year.” I haven’t understood or worked through all I have read, let alone all I wish I could read. Breathe, Rachel, and deal with that first.

And the rest? Trust. If God is as big as you believe, then He knew what you (and all humans) would need revealed for this life on earth. And He put it in that Bible of yours. He made sure it got there—over time and people and places—to your bedroom dresser. It is sufficient because He is sufficient. What a relief. I’ll just write down the rest of my questions to make for an interesting blog conversation.

I don’t know how to write myself out of the story. It still focuses on me. I thought I was older than that by now. But I look at the clock, exhausted by 8:30 and wonder if I can stay up until 9pm. The sun has burnt my arms and I feel the skin tighten across my nose in the pink fashion when I crinkle it. Even my toes, that I had painted a sick cotton candy pink are too far away to reach or complain about. I will paint over them tomorrow.

And what of visiting children and hearing stories and who knew Vera would end up with Marcio and they want to get married next year and of course I am invited. Isac is playing for Nautico, the soccer team in Recife? Well, I am now a devoted fan. And Cesar, who I wished beyond wishes to see, is living at ome again with his mother, who threw him out when he was younger.

Cesar has always been my favorite, when I shouldn’t play favorites. His birthday was January 7, but I am always late–as he knows–but I always come–as he hopes: “I still have the card you gave me last year.” He says. I still have the card he gave me three years ago, when he thanked me for helping him, when we both used to meet at Living Stones every day.

“I am 15 now,” He says proudly, “And in 6th grade.” He says in a lower voice, because he has flunked and is now three years behind. I hope, realistically, that he will make it through middle school.

The motorcycle driver began his crush on me once he heard I was American, but simmered down when I told him my boyfriend was coming to visit. “So there weren’t any Brazilians around?” He asked. “Not for me.” I reply, and he mumbles something grumpily. He dropped me off at Leandra’s house, who turned 16 today. She giggles when I tell her that this is when American teens get their drivers licence. She doesn’t know anyone with a licence. Her curls are perfect and she basks beautifully in “her” day.