No, not that kind!
I’d like to ask that twenty-five of you commit to pray for the miraculous to occur here in Ubaúna today and tomorrow, Friday and Saturday. Further, I’d ask that you do so at 4:00 p.m. EST both days.
Tonight Megafone takes to the stage and the anticipation of it has this little town running at fever pitch. The possibilities of what could happen are staggering.
Would you join with us, even if only a simple “Lord bless them,” in asking the Lord of harvest to do what only he can do and in a manner that only he can achieve?
I’d love to see you leave a comment that you’ll join us.
Who knows what might happen…
Sometimes life is far funnier than anything a comedian can come up with.
The church in Ubaúna has begun to experience some explosive growth. Consequently, they are far more people than there is space to put them in. That especially is true of the children.
While there, I popped in to a small room no more than 12′ x 15′ crammed with 32 kids under the age of 6. It was hot, the lighting wasn’t good and the warrior (the name of a group of 12 disciples who are receiving special training in hands-on church planting) who was teaching the class was trying to explain to this age group how to pray. She wasn’t as “energetic” as she might have been and had gotten a bit wordy.
As she concluded the “how” with a demonstration of prayer, Joãozinho (little John), five years old, interrupted her. “Auntie (that’s what the little kids call the teachers), I just don’t understand what you’re doing!”
He jumped to his feet and proclaimed: “I don’t know how to do what you’re saying! I’ll just do it my way!”
With that, and in a voice that was a perfect chant, he proclaimed, “Hail Mary, full of grace…”
I don’t know if it was heat stroke or the hilarity of the moment (probably both), but I was on the floor laughing so hard my side hurt.
Every time I come to the desert of Brazil I come away amazed at what happens to my faith.
It seems to take on a new vitality and becomes the proverbial “faith on steroids.” I begin to do things I wouldn’t typically do while at home, I boldly go where I otherwise wouldn’t simply because at home I don’t feel that it is a territory where I can be effective.
And that is probably what holds me back — me.
Prayer is one of the components of my faith that seemingly takes on a life of its own while in Brazil.
I have directly prayed for about twenty people over the last 30 hours. One 65 year old immediately begin swinging his arm around and jumping like a kid; his torn rotor cuff in his shoulder no longer was immobilizing his arm and his knees no longer hurt. A 40 year old mother was suffering something fierce with abdominal pain; I knew when it stopped by the beatific look that came over her face when it stopped. A 35 year old woman stood before me, crying uncontrollably, suffering from depression and taking several medications for it; the look of amazement on her face when “it” happened made me cry. A 51 year old with terminal cancer asked me to bless her; I did.
I have never seen myself as a “faith healer,” even though Jesus has always said the contrary, not just to me but to all of us who claim to be disciples.
Yeah, Brazil helps me become a believer.
Gospel for Brazil has a child sponsorship program called Seed of Hope in which folks can provide for the welfare of children living in extreme poverty in the interior of northeastern Brazil.
One of the perks of the program is that the sponsor is able to send letters, cards and photos to their sponsored child and create a relationship with the child. On this trip I am hand-carrying a load of such letters to the kids.
As I flew down I was translating letters and came across this one:
My name is Charlotte. I am glad to sponsor you!
I am old — like your aunt or grandmother. I used to teach children at school. Now I am retired.
I live alone. I have no children. My family have all gone to heaven to live with God.
I am happy to have you. I pray for you each night.
God bless you!
I am not ashamed to tell you that this touched me to the point of tears. Who is helping who here?
Guess what I’ll get to do in a week? Play big brother to a band of warriors!
We take so much for granted in the U.S., including the way we do church and faith. Even for a non-believer who becomes a believer, there is some form of a path to take to learn more about what such a decision means, how to incorporate it into your daily life and grow in it. In the interior of Brasil there is no such foundation to work from.
We’ve taken twelve young folk, equipped them with the very basic, rudimentary tools (messenger bag, Bible, notebook, pens), began providing them foundational training for a year, putting them into real life, Jesus sharing events for the hands on experience and will then turn them loose on the community and surrounding area. We’re dedicated, and rabid, about implementing the “make disciples” order.
We’ve chosen the moniker of “Warriors Advancing the Kingdom” for this discipleship program.
The “chosen ones” have had to prove their faith and desire by their involvement in church activities and take an entry exam. Guidance was sought from the Spirit through prayer and fasting. Twelve were then chosen.
We had the privilege of laying hands on them, commissioning them, praying for them and inaugurating the program by presenting them with their equipment in January. Additionally, we gave each of them t-shirts with the warriors logo emblazoned on the back and front that serves as a type of uniform for their induction into “the service.”
Please be in prayer for these little brothers and sisters, asking that the Spirit quickly “baptize” them with the fire of battle.
I woke up this morning and called God “Dude.”
I’m pretty freestyling when I talk to my Creator; I know he wants our conversation with him to be real.
I’ve had a bucket load of stuff going on the last few days. When I woke up this morning, not knowing where I was but having a series of events immediately busting into my brain’s thought pattern, I said, “God, Dude, I’ve got to have you show up in a significant way today!”
I’ve been hanging with and around folks in their twenties and thirties for the last two days. “Dude” is used as much as “and” and “the” in normal conversation. It had to have been that influence.
(I’ll wager he is smiling a Mona Lisa smile!)
As they say, “no disrespect intended…”
Just got off the phone with Jeremy.
“Dad, remember the sandstorm y’all called out the other day? Intel confirmed that there was indeed a rocket waiting for us. Because of the sandstorm we were invisible and they couldn’t locate us. Your prayers saved us!”
He also said his “boss” told him to pass along his gratitude for covering the detachment with prayer and making them invisible.
And, that we could pray for them any time we way to!
So, on behalf of the soldiers serving with my son, thank you!