Daily Archives: May 21, 2009

The Road to “Hell” and Back

What used to be a relatively easy three hour drive from Fortaleza to Ubaúna has turned into a six hour nightmare.

Holes big enough to swallow your car with hundreds, literally, of holes the size of a plastic dirty clothes hamper and, no kidding, thousands of holes the size of beach and basketballs, litter the highway. Some sections of the highway simply no longer exists.

And this is the “good” highway.

The interstate highway is virtually impassable. In fact, in multiple areas it is closed.

As we journeyed out of Fortaleza, knowing the interstate was shot, we detailed 100 kilometers out of our way in the hopes of having better asphalt. Sadly, not only did we not find that, but coupled with torrential downpours and night falling, when I finally arrived in Ubaúna, I was tighter than a banjo string.

Measuring some of these “potholes,” they were deeper than my knee. One in particular I could stand in it up to my waist and could not touch the sides, front or back.

That gives a new definition to the term “pothole.”

The reference to “hell” comes from the temperatures that we encountered in the region around Ubaúna. The heat and humidity were something special. While the heat is only running between 88 and 92, the humidity was 100%. Sticky and sweltering are two words that spring to mind.

Yeah, everyone thinks I’ve been on vacation. If that is true, I honestly don’t want to see what it would be like if they thought I wasn’t!

Always

Nothing like the desert of northeastern Brazil to get you thinking a bit clearer.

The local folks have a saying: “God is a Brazilian.”

For the longest time I used to think that was a sick joke. Droughts, floods, poverty, hunger, disease and pestilence, ignorance… “God-forsaken” is the term that would spring instantly to mind; if God is a Brazilian, he must be on an extended vacation and the kids have trashed the joint.

The forlorned look of a hungry child, the defeated look of an elderly adult, the cruelty of an alcohol-enslaved father or the hardness of a mother who’s turned to prostitution, the Enemy has made his mark.

How my perceptions have changed.

It is exactly in this “God-forsaken” region that I find him, sometimes lurking in the sweltering heat, sometimes arriving on dark clouds and thunder, sometimes as a gentle wisp of a cooling breeze in the late afternoon.

Always present in the shy smile of a child to whom love is shown, always appearing in the look of the woman set free of the bondage of the spirit of fear, always manifesting in the face of the man healed of crippling back problems. Always.

It is solely about Jesus. His love, his power, his desire for us.

More than ever, that is crystal clear.

Now to him who by the power that is working within us is able to do far beyond all that we ask or think…