The Word Became Flesh (Jason)

“The Word became flesh and [pitched his tent] among us” (John 1:14). Ten different Bibles will yield ten different translations for this Greek word skenoo. The above translation is my favorite. The NIV says “made his dwelling” while some other translations even say he “tabernacled” among us. My Greek dictionary translates the word skenoo “to encamp, to reside or to dwell (as did God in the Old Testament tabernacle.” All the translations get at one basic idea, the God who was there came here. God stepped into our world in a human form; he “pitched his tent” among us. This is what we celebrate at Christmas.

Kristin and I are homesick right now. We want the comfort and familiarity of being with our families. We want grandparents to enjoy Jacob. We want cold weather, mashed potatoes, and 24 hours of “It’s a Wonderful Christmas”. Instead we get Brazil. Tonight we have been invited to spend Christmas with Carol’s family (Jeremy’s girlfriend). Their tradition is interesting. Carol’s father, who is the president of a seminary, opens the school and his family on Christmas Eve. Anyone is welcome to come and celebrate. The usual attendees are some staff and students who do not have family. The occasional homeless person, drug addict or foreigner might also be in attendance, a true black tie event. The point is that Carol’s family is very intentional about “pitching their tent” among the world. Christ’s sacrifice for humankind is embodied in their service to Rio’s disenfranchised.

It is our hope that you have a wonderful Christmas and that you, in your own way, share Christ’s love with others.

Merry Christmas.

Diverging Paths (Kristin)

1 Corinthians 3:7 "So neither he who plants, nor he who waters is anything,
but only God, who makes things grow."

As both cousins and friends, these girls have grown up together in the slum where we work. We've known them for a while now, and it's interesting to see the different paths that they are choosing. Larissa (on the left) is choosing a path that is leading her further away from God and the church. She is surrounding herself with people who choose "I am" instead of the "I AM".

Bianca, on the other hand, couldn't be more involved with church. She's there almost every day. In fact, I worry that she's too involved to the point in which her relationships with her unbelieving family may be eroding. You see, she goes to church, at least in part, to avoid her "annoying" mother and sister. But hiding in the church won't solve her problems at home and in her heart. If she doesn't learn to extend God's grace to her own family, she will one day regret missing out on these relationships.

These girls are going in different directions, but they seem to get hung up on the same issue... God's grace. One won't accept it, the other doesn't want to share it.

Please join us in praying for these girls. Pray for Larissa, that God would change the condition of her heart to enable a love for Him to grow. Pray for Bianca, that God would bring her to a maturity in her faith and make her an instrument that He uses to lead her family to Jesus.

Heroes (Jeremy)

Probably one of the most gruesome bathrooms that I have ever used was also the setting for one of the most compelling stories of heroism that I have ever experienced. It was Aprilish 2004, and I was working a shift at REAME. This meant that I was responsible for the monstrous staff keychain – one central ring filled to capacity with all of these other smaller rings spawning off of it. Needless to say, it didn’t fit in my pocket, so I just carried it around all day in my hands. That wasn’t a problem, except for when, out of dire necessity, I had to use the bathroom. I use the words “out of dire necessity” very deliberately, for the outdoor REAME bathroom was not for the faint of heart. It was a 4’ by 6’ window-less heat-box with a toilet that did not flush. There was a bucket on the floor that was supposed to be filled with water and then emptied into the toilet to flush down any contributions. It was a noble thought, but that bucket never got used. Instead, kids used the toilet until it reached its capacity, and then they started using the floor. There was a ten foot radius of stink that encapsulated that tiny bathroom, warning those that approached of the terror that lurked within. I had to come up with a strategy anytime my bladder felt as if it would give way. First, I would start holding my breath about fifteen feet away. Upon entering, I would secure the staff keychain with my teeth. I would then navigate my way through the mess on the floor by lunging from one clean spot to the next until I reached the toilet. I would urinate (for anything beyond that could wait) and then hightail it out of there, waiting until I was once again outside of the radius of stink to begin inhaling. On this particular day, however, my strategy failed me. I made it successfully through the first few steps. But, when I was standing over the toilet with the keys clasped between my teeth, I ran out of air. I miscalculated the amount that I would need, and I had to inhale. However, I could not bring myself to inhale through the nose. So, I opened my mouth to draw a breath, and with that, the staff keys fell into the murky swamp before me with an eerie silence. I made it back to the group and explained what had happened. The other staff stared at me with a look of horror, knowing the fate that awaited me. I had to go back for those keys. So, I went to my car, fuming with anger and frustration, in frantic search of every plastic bag I could find to aid in this mission. I concocted a plan that involved a wire used to fish the keys out. The other staff gathered around me in effort to console. I was just about to head back in when out of the bathroom came Anderson, one of the kids, with his bare hand held high, clutching the mass of dripping keys. We ran to him - cheering. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I, who had dropped those keys into the toilet, felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude to the one who had fished them out in my place. For the five minutes that it took him to recount that story and the few days that followed, Anderson was my hero.

Anderson now finds himself in a different place. Three years ago, he left REAME and started down the wrong path. This path involved drugs, living in abandoned houses and other questionable activities. When we met up last Friday for the first time since he left, I hardly recognized him. He was filthy and emaciated. Those years of hard living had taken their toll. Now, we find him broken and feeling as if he has nowhere else to turn. Now, he’s the one in need of a hero. Fortunately for him, we know and intend to introduce him to the Hero that he is seeking. Today, we got Anderson into a rehab center that will take six months to complete. We will continue to walk beside him with the hope that when these six months end, he will be able to join us in our house. Please pray for his first 30 days, as we are not permitted to visit him during this time.

God of the Marvelous City (Brianna Morgan)

(taken from the top of Morro dos Macacos)

The two weeks I spent with Sombra Road in Rio de Janeiro were so impactful to me. I can’t say that I have ever had a heart for Brasil until recently. However, after spending some time there, my heart beats to a new drum – one that leaves me aching and praying for the beautiful people of Brasil. I was able to catch a glimpse of what it would be like to live in Rio, hang out with kids in the favela, go on some beautiful hikes, spend time with the kids at Reame, try exotic fruits, and stay with a Brazilian family for a few nights.

Of all the amazing experiences I had, the last day I spent in the favela (Morro dos Macacos) left the biggest impression upon me. Six teenage boys in Jason and Jeremy’s afternoon class took us to the top of the favela. It was quite a trek to the top, and the song "The God of This City" played in my head the entire climb. It felt like we were climbing stairs for years, weaving in and out of little alleys between the homes. The further up we walked, the poorer the homes were. Some were just cardboard and trash nailed together to form walls. The people who live at the top have to walk those stairs anytime they need anything (there are no roads for cars at the top). Some even have to carry water up because they do not have access to such.

When we got to the top of the hill, there was a little pasture with a large cross off to one side. The pasture overlooked the enormous city of Rio de Janeiro. As we made our way towards the cross, there were about 10 young men with guns overlooking the other side of the hill, to make sure that drug dealers from the rival gang were not trying to invade. They didn’t really seem to care that we were up there so we just kept walking.

When we got to the cross there was a man, about the age of twenty, sitting by it, gun in hand. He was very friendly and started talking to us. He ended up telling us that he had been shot five times in his life and pointed to each scar. At that point, Jason said something along the lines of, “God has spared your life for a reason.” After that we ended up praying with him. We stood in a circle, holding hands on the top of that favela, praying to the God of the universe. And the lyrics of that song played in my head, “Greater things have yet to come, and greater things are still to be done in this city.”


God is the God of the people of Morro dos Macacos, whether they know it or not. He created each of them, fashioned their hearts individually (Psalm 33:15), and longs to give them the full life that He died to give. The drug dealers, the prostitutes, the kids who are stuck growing up there. It's encouraging to remember that God isn't finished yet - greater things are left to be done in that city. There is a Hope for the seemingly hopeless.

Acts 17:26- 28 “And He has made from one blood every nation of men to dwell on all the face of the earth and has determined their preappointed times and the boundaries of their dwellings, so that they should seek the Lord, in the hope that they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him with live and move and have our being…”

A Contagious Fear (Jeremy)

(Marcos Paulo, Ronnie and Jefferson)

Whenever the United States loses to Brazil in anything, my Brazilian friends make sure that I know all about it. So, when Rio was granted the 2016 Olympics over Chicago and other contenders, I expected the typical harassment. But, it never came. Instead, concerns about the city’s violence seemed to eclipse any type of celebration – especially in the wake of the events of October 17th. On this day, rival gangs went to war with one another for control of the favela in which we work (Morro dos Macacos). The situation escalated when a police helicopter was shot down, resulting in two police casualties. For the rest of the day, the people of Rio were glued to their televisions, watching in dismay as gang members commandeered eight public buses and set fire to them. By day’s end, the death toll was at 22.

Jefferson, one of our students from the favela, spent most of that morning locked in his house with his mom and two sisters. I use the term house very loosely in his case. It is actually more of a basement – the basement of his grandmother’s three room, bare cinder block house. His mom moved into it following her divorce from Jefferson’s father. She is a remarkable lady marked by a sincere love for both the Lord and her kids. Jefferson bears a lot of resemblance to her in this – at least the love for the Lord part. He became a Christian a few years ago through the work of a local Christian leader in the community. At 14, Jason comments that he is surprisingly mature, characterized by a unique awareness of sin and a proper remorse for it. In our Friday afternoon soccer classes, he has emerged as a key leader – stoic yet influential.

Much like most residents of Morro do Macaco, Jefferson has experienced fallout from October 17th. Days after the incident, police invaded his home looking for gang members. They questioned him about his family, asked him if he was hiding anyone and interrogated him about his personal life. He claims that if his neighbor and cousin had not been there, the police would have hit him in an effort to scare information out of him. The sad thing about this episode is the fear that it engenders. Right now, it seems contagious in the Morro, and those that are not involved seem most impacted by it. We ask for your prayers for Jefferson, our other kids and the Morro. We are hopeful in One whose perfect love drives out such fears.

Picked Last (Jason)

In third grade, Nick was always the one to pick teams for kickball. He was the best. No one ever got him out. He had the ability to turn himself into a “U” to avoid a screaming, red, rubber ball as he rounded first headed for home. Had Nick not been captain, he would have been picked first. I, a very late bloomer, was always picked last. I hated the process for picking teams for kickball. Not being a good student either, it was just another arena in which to suffer. Many years later, after high school, I came into my own athletically. I excelled at certain sports and this slowly became my identity. In my mind, I was Jason, the athlete. So, when a group of kids threatened this image I became terribly insecure.

Tuesday afternoon soccer class had low attendance. So, with only a few kids, I played (which I do not usually do) so that we could have sufficient numbers. We divided teams. After teams are divided comes the process of picking a goalie. As is customary, we number ourselves and have someone neutral pick a number at random. There is no one neutral besides Jeremy. So, we number ourselves (Jason-1, Elbom-2, Cascao-3, Andre-4). Jeremy picks …3. Phew! I dodged that bullet, I think. I don’t have to be goalie. However, before I can even relish in the though of not having to play the whole game in the goal, the other three guys on my team point to me and yell “three”.

It was not that I did not want to be goalie so much as the way that the boys went about “telling” me they wanted me to be goalie. My feelings were really hurt. My ego was threatened. I wanted to lash out. I wanted to punch Cascao, number 3. I wanted to quite working with undeserving wretches and pack up to come home.

I recognize that this is all incredibly juvenile. I should inform the reader that I am not going to quit. I no longer want to hit Cascao. In fact I believe that I have grown in several ways through this experience. First, I hope that God will heal me from my ego. Also, I realize that my savior was mistreated in ways that Mel Gibson and I will never understand. Had he not suffered I would have given up a long time ago. His suffering gives me endurance. Finally, I know that God loves these kids more than I do and it is my hope that God will love these kids through me. Please pray with us that God would use us to be a conduit of God’s love and grace to these kids.

Ailton's Story (Jeremy)

Sometimes I think about the movie Teen Wolf. I think about Scott - his affable nature and aptitude to lead and how all of this goes unrecognized by his peers, except, of course, for Boof. Then, everything changes when he transforms into a werewolf that plays basketball. Suddenly, he’s popular - setting dance trends and surfing on top of a van. I’d like to believe that’s real. I’d like to believe that a gymnasium full of high school students could first embrace a werewolf as one of their own and later celebrate him when he chooses to shed his fur in the championship game. I’d like to think that man possesses some innate goodness that we find in these films. But, stories like Ailton’s challenge any notion of that.

Ailton began doing Bible studies and soccer class with us at the beginning of the year. From the outset, we perceived that he is somewhat of a social pariah – even though I cannot tell you why. He’s a good-looking, 17 year-old guy with average intelligence and a genuine likeability. He’s not obnoxious or aggressive – just shy. And yet, everyone seems to revel in picking on him. Younger kids call him names; the older ones try to start fights with him. Jason and I discipline such behavior, but it seems to extend well beyond our class. I’ve tried to connect the dots with some character flaw or socially awkward trait. It’s just not there. The story takes an even sadder turn when you learn that his father was a security guard that was killed in Ailton’s infancy when he attempted to prevent a robbery. I’ve given up waiting for the formulaic 80’s movie clap from his peers that seems to right all wrongs.

Instead, I’m banking on God’s ability to reveal His goodness through broken people and committed discipleship. This is where Ailton’s story takes a turn for good. Jason has started meeting with Ailton individually. They discuss his life, his plans and his relationship with Jesus. Ailton is a believer and learning what it means to be one at the same time. We set up a work/study program in which he is apprenticing a local construction worker in the favella. This translates into a much needed sense of purpose and responsibility. Sure, this is no John Hughes picture. But, there is potential here for much more than that.

Recycled (Jason)

Pierced, half sunken in stagnant rainwater, and covered in green algae is where Jeremy and I found our soccer ball one afternoon as we were leaving Morro dos Macacos (Monkey Hill). It's disappearance was our fault really. We loaned it to David and Darciso, who we know well and trust, while we conducted soccer practice one Tuesday, weeks before. The problem was that we failed to appoint one of them responsible for the ball. When we broke for water, David and Darciso left the ball where it lay, helpless. Of course, it disappeared. I never thought that we would see that ball again, but it's funny how things have a way of resurfacing.

The favela is like the sea. An object that sits too long on the shore will evenutally be grabbed by the thieving fingers of the waves. Once this happens, the object is consumed and digested by the relentless pounding. When the sea is finished with that object, she spits it out. That's what happened to our soccer ball. While David and Darciso were distracted, the ball was taken by thieving hands and subsequently consumed and digested by the monster that is the Morro (or "hill", as the favela is so affectionately called). Once the Morro had finished with our ball, it resurfaced.

The kids that we work with are not immune to this process. Any kid who lives in the Morro long enough knows the consequences. We have seen to often kids who disappear from our Bible study or soccer practice for weeks, months or years only to resurface, now mangled by the effects of sin. Some resurface after being sexually abused by mom's new boyfriend. Others resurface with a kid and still others with an addiction. Still, some don't make it out alive. The mortality rate among young men who live in the favelas is equal to war zones due to drug trafficking.

Despite all that we are up against, we have a hope that is stronger than the thieving forces that suck kids into lives of sin and we have a hope that can renew even those who have been digested. This is why we continue our efforts in the Morro. We hope that by the power of the gospel we may rescue some before they are overtaken and chewed up by the powers of sin and, that by this same power, we may bring healing to those that have. Join with us as we pray against the forces that confront our kids.

Me Chamo Adilio (Adilio Hilario)

My name is Adílio. I am 21 years old and am from the Northeast of Brazil where the poorest of Brazil’s population live. My city has less than 7,000 habitants and is deprived of the financial resources that could increase the standard of living of the population.

I became a Christian four years ago after I was in a tragic accident. I discovered that God must be sovereign in my life. However, I knew the decision to follow would be very difficult. My family is tied to Catholicism and I have a poor relationship with my father. All the same, I resolved to follow God in the midst of all the difficulties. After 3 years of being a Christian, I felt called to study at the Bethel Theological Seminary in Rio de Janeiro. This became a torment for my family. Aside from the fact that my parents are hostile to my decision to convert to evangelicalism and to my decision to study in an evangelical seminary, my parents believe Rio to be too violent. Another challenge that I faced was the decision to leave my home to live at the Sombra Road House with Jeremy, whom I had never met. However, God was guiding me.

Today I am in Rio de Janeiro doing a course on missions. It is my hope that I may serve as a missionary after graduation.

I have flourished here in Rio mainly due to someone who has brought a great Christian influence and new perspectives to my life. Without a doubt, he has been a conduit of the blessing of God in my life. He has assumed the role of a leader in my life...his name is Jeremy and he is a part of Sombra Road.

*Adilio has been living with Jeremy and Claudinho at the Sombra Road House since earlier this year.

Lost in Translation (Jeremy)

There is a game that our kids like to play called bafo (translation breath). Each player throws in these special superhero cards, which are gathered into a deck and placed face down. Then, the kids take turns slapping the deck in order to flip over as many cards possible. The cards that are flipped become his. Among kids in the favela, a large stack of cards is somewhat of a status symbol. As I was climbing the hill the other morning, I passed Ueverson, a twelve year old student from our Friday afternoon soccer class, walking with a friend to school. I noticed the 20 or so cards that he carried in his hand - a respectable amount.

“Looks like you’re good at that game,” said I, pointing down to his stack of cards.

He looked back at me with the wrinkled eyebrow of confusion that I have seen all too often here in Brazil. I should have cut my losses in this conversation and moved quickly to goodbye. Instead, I pursued.

“You know who else is good at that game?” I asked, remembering the kid from his class that needed two hands to carry his spoils.

“Jesus?” he timidly replied.

“I was thinking Carlos Eduardo, but I guess that works too. Well, I’ll talk to you later on this afternoon.” I consoled myself with the thought that at least he was getting something from our class.

In all seriousness, Ueverson is an impressive kid. Besides a knack for scoring goals on Jason, he is marked by a sincerity that is rare among our group. He tells it how he sees it. That is why when he got baptized two weeks ago, I was really touched. He made a commitment based on understanding, not merely out of compulsion or emotion. God has saved him, and I ask that you would come alongside of us in praying for the first steps of His relationship with God.

Later that Friday afternoon, I did revisit the conversation that we had had regarding the cards. I tried to clarify my question from that morning.

“Ohh,” he responded with a look of enlightenment. “I thought you were asking me who was the best soccer player.”

“And you answered Jesus?!?”

“Yeah,” he replied.

Suddenly, I was the one giving the confused eyebrow look.

Claudinho's Graduation (Kristin)

Today we are proud - proud and excited for Claudinho. We found out this month that he has graduated from high school. This is quite a feat given the path he took to arrive here.

Claudinho has lived in the Sombra Road House since 2007 but has been a part of our lives for much longer. Jeremy first met Claudinho at the orphanage, REAME, in 2004, when Claudinho was 13. At the time, he was in the third grade. The reason he was so far behind was because education was not a priority in his home. His mother died in childbirth when he was still very young. The responsibility of both providing for and raising Claudinho and his four brothers and sisters fell squarely on the shoulders of his father. His father, a poor farmer who took care of someone else's land, relied on his two sons' help in order to complete his day's work. When food on the table is not a given, education is perceived as a luxury. When he was removed from his father's home and placed at REAME on the day of his 10th birthday, he was well behind his peers. He had to start all over at the beginning. So, at 10 years old, he was placed in a kindergarten class with kids 4 or 5 years younger than him. He describes the situation with these simple words: "it was embarassing."

This milestone marks not only evidence of his perseverance but also opens up many doors of opportunity. We are excited to see where his next steps take him and we are thrilled to be able to continue to help counsel him on this journey. He will continue to live in the Sombra Road House. He is a part of our family. Please continue to pray for him as he makes decisions about his next steps.

Glimmer of Hope (Jason)

I once heard an ex-mobster turned Christian claim the he broke down sobbing after shooting a man in the knee. He cried not from a sense of remorse but rather from amazement that he had not shoot the man in the chest. He said that at the moment that he shot the man he realized that God had done an amazing transformation in his life. "Six months before," he noted, “I would have killed that man.” Even though we do not work with murderers, we can appreciate this story given the profile of the kid with whom we we work.

Take, for example, Diego - the hard case from our Tuesday and Wednesday morning class (a classmate of Tangerina). Diego is a fantastic soccer player who has little else going for him. He grew up fatherless, for his father died due to his involvement in drug trafficking. In class, he plays the role of the tough, disinterested guy. But, Diego’s hard exterior is a compensation for his low self-esteem. He, like a cactus, does a good job of keeping people at a distance. His method of self-defense is to tear others down in order to bring himself up. He mocks the way we speak Portuguese. He hacks one kid because he struggles as a goalie. He rails another for having the appearance of a goat. Due to his behavior, we considered yanking him from the group. However, after prayer and much debate, we decided to press on due to a small glimmer of progress. We see traces of submission, moments of understanding. The hard exterior is starting to crack. We believe that God is at work in his life, moving him toward the gospel.

As for our role in his life, we try to be like Epaphroditus (see Phillipians) - messengers delivering a precious gift. Join with us as we hope and pray for Diego, knowing that it is only the love of Christ that might bring down the walls that Diego sets up.

Who is in charge? (Jeremy)

Tuesday Morning, A Soccer Field at the base of Morro dos Macacos - The ball caroms off the post into the frayed net. "Gol!" A solitary shout of triumph muffled by the shirt that he has pulled over his head. He totters across the field with his bone-thin arms perpendicular to his exposed torso - he's doing the airplane. The others are not celebrating, but they are laughing. This is what they have come to expect from Tangerina - the class clown who doubles as their leader.

Tangerina (portuguese for tangerine) is merely his nickname - the aftermath of a bad hair coloring experiment. His real name is Carlos. Besides his quick-wittedness and intellect, he possesses a compelling charm that makes you want to pull for him. At sixteen, Carlos is also quite intuitive. He can read you almost as quickly as you can him. Sadly, however, much of the self-assured posturing that we see from him on the field is merely an act. Underneath this façade, there's an approval-driven teenager who is terrified by the question, "Who are you?" And identity is not the only issue in question for him. Authority is also quite confusing. He has been raised in an environment that rebels for the simple reason that "you're not in control of me; you're not my dad." But when you, like Tangerina, grow up without a dad (as seems to be a given for the kids with whom we work), to whom do you feel accountable? Who is in charge?

With Carlos, our preeminent desire is that he would see God as a loving Father to whom submission would be a pleasure. Our Tuesday morning soccer class is just an expression of that. With our words and encouragement, we try to get him to see Jesus as both the means and the motive for this submission. With our discipline, we try to walk him toward the truth that freedom is secured, not threatened, by authority. With our prayers, we plead with God to confront and comfort Carlos' heart with the truth of His sovereignty and love. I think back on that day at the soccer field and consider how, one day, it could be different. I envision a Carlos that is so confident of Jesus' identity that he doesn't need others to help him with his own. It is this hope that helps me forget how absurd it is for two past their prime American guys to think that they can teach Brazilian teenagers soccer.

Our Need for Him (Courtney Preston)

When I heard that my church, Intown Community, was planning a summer mission trip to Sombra Road, I jumped at the chance to go. I've been teaching in Atlanta Public Schools for seven years and was feeling stuck in a rut, like I've been an ostrich with my head stuck in the hole of public education. I am passionate about social justice, particularly within the realm of education, so I wanted to visit Rio and see how the Lord is at work in a different part of the world, to have a renewed sense of the Lord causing His kingdom to come. The trip was only scheduled for a week: while I hoped it would, I didn't expect that I or our team could really have much impact on Sombra Road's ministry or the lives of the kids Jason, Kristin, and Jeremy have developed relationships with. Mostly, I viewed it as a trip for me.

The trip, of course, was nothing like my expectations. The focus of our devotionals for the week was social justice. We talked about how social justice apart from the gospel is ultimately empty, learned about the principles that guide Sombra Road's ministry, and discussed how Jesus impacts the "victim mentality."

Psalm 97 says that justice and righteousness are the foundations of the Lord's throne. I hate poverty, but through this trip, I really came to see that ending poverty is not the solution to anyone's problem and it is not the Lord's intention as He brings his kingdom in. Showing his children their need for Him, showing them that only in Him will they find true delight are His intentions. Just as the trip was nothing like my expectations, I learned that Christ's kingdom is nothing like my expectations, but a kingdom of goodness, beauty, truth, and delight in the Lord. While it certainly can, usually, His Kingdom does not move forward by leaps and bounds, but by the daily workings of His children in the seemingly small things of their lives, doing justice and loving mercy. That is what Jeremy, Jason, and Kristin are doing in Morro dos Macacos. I believe that God hates poverty too, and I know that one day He will set all things right. Until then, Sombra Road is pushing the kingdom forward, not to end poverty in the lives of the children at CEACA, but to show them the depth of their need for him and His grace that is sufficient for their weakness.

Since returning to the States, a few people have asked me what the kids were like. I haven't known quite how to respond. They're kids. They're just like the kids whom I have taught for the last seven years. They love to laugh, play soccer, fly kites, paint their fingernails, and they want to be loved. Yet, they live in a favela, grow up in fear, may be the victims of abuse, and from a societal perspective, have little hope. And just like my students in Atlanta, they are created in the image of a loving Father and their greatest need is grace.

As we debriefed from the week Friday morning, Kristin shared something that I've continued to think about. Here came seven Americans, speaking little Portuguese, into the lives of these kids for a week. Yes, we built relationships with them, shared the gospel with them, played a lot of soccer (and lost to them in ultimate!), but more importantly, we furthered Jeremy, Jason, and Kristin's relationships with them. Our unfamiliarity and lack of language skills pushed the kids towards them. With our presence, suddenly they were the kids' old friends, their safe place. In these three, they have friends, a safe place, and people who love them and whose great desire is to show them that their greatest delight is in Christ.

Heaven or the New Earth (Jason)

I asked the kids in our bible study their thoughts on heaven expecting Romper Room answers like, “Heaven is like a soccer game that never ends” or “I want wings and an endless supply of candy” or “The streets will be made of gold, right?” I wanted them to fill in the blanks so that I could make my point and move on with the study. However, I was hardly able to continue when Amanda responded “rest”. She responded with emotion, as a soldier pining for rest from battle. She did not strike me as the type to read Hebrews Chapters 3-4 and come away with this theological jewel on her own. “Who told you that one of the benefits of heaven will be rest?” “No one”, she responds. So, this begs the question “Is the restful nature of heaven intuitive?” I think that the answer is yes. I don’t need special revelation to tell me that God is good. His goodness is all around me. Nor does Amanda need special revelation to tell her that one of the effects of the fall is difficulty and stress. She represents one of many kids that we work with from Morro dos Macacos (Monkey Hill), one of the more dangerous favelas in Rio. Amanda is surrounded by drug use, broken families, prostitution and the like. I, like Amanda, look forward to the promise of rest. There is a real resonation in my soul when I think on this idea of entering God’s rest which is spoken of in Hebrews.

Amanda is a forgotten kid in this country. Society looks at her and others like her and concludes that she is not worth the effort, that she will never amount to anything. We are here because we know that this is not how Jesus sees her. He sees his child whom he has great plans for; plans which, one day, include rest.

Spring Break 2009 (Lee Behr)

Lee, Anna, a teacher, Brynna, Kara, Rachel and the kids from the community (and Jacob)

Lee was one of the students that participated in the SR Mission Trip in March. Below are her words describing the experience.

It was Spring Break 2009 and six of my classmates, my math teacher (and FCA sponsor) and her husband made a trip to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Our hope was to make a difference in the lives of kids living in an orphanage. Our goal was to form a relationship with them in the short time we were there, just one week. We also hoped to open their eyes, ears and hearts to life’s possibilities through a shared faith. At least, we wanted to love each kid, knowing that God’s love shines through us to others. This was the first time I had been on a mission trip. I was nervous about going, not knowing what to expect. Plus, is this how I really wanted to spend my Spring Break? Looking back on the experience, I can’t imagine having spent the week any other way. When I was with the kids at Reame, I saw God at work. I could see it in their eyes and feel it through their love and receptiveness of an American stranger. It was an eye-opener in many ways and it was difficult to imagine what some of these kids had been thorough before coming to the orphanage. Many of their stories were heartbreaking and tragic, and yet the strength and happiness I witnessed among these kids was really inspirational. I returned feeling less self-centered and more willing to share love unconditionally. It strengthened my personal relationship with God and allowed me an opportunity to meet people in their own environment and on their own terms concerning faith. Although none of us spoke Portuguese, except for a few words and phrases, communication wasn’t really a problem. We played games and soccer, tie-dyed t-shirts, sang and did skits. It was truly a life changing experience for me. The chance to return can’t come soon enough.

Time Warp (Russ and Kara)

Kara and I again recently had the pleasure of spending a week with Jeremy, Jason, and Kristin. This time was a bit different in that we brought with us seven of Kara's students from Woodward Academy. The trip was a big success in a number of ways- we learned several lessons about how best to bring teams in to fully experience Rio and Sombra Road, the students' were pushed to consider things beyond the bubble in which they typically live, and we all had a really great time enjoying all that Rio has to offer. One of the most exciting things about the trip for me, though, was the opportunity to catch a glimpse of what Sombra Road is all about in a one-week "time warp." When we arrived at the Sombra Road House, we were introduced to the newest addition to the SR House, Adilio, who had just moved to Rio and was now living at the SR House. As you can imagine, he was a bit intimidated by our group and was very hesitant to engage. He spoke almost no English, and our group spoke very limited Portuguese, so any conversation that first day was very limited. According to Jeremy, he was extremely uncomfortable and really questioned how much he wanted to be around our group that week. What we witnessed over the following days, in my mind, sums up what Jeremy, Jason, and Kristin are in Brazil to do. As the walls between us began to come down, we were able to see this young man bloom from being fairly quiet, removed, and hesitant to laughing, joking, and engaged in a way that none of us would have imagined after that first day. I feel really fortunate to have seen in a very tangible way what Jeremy, Jason, and Kristin are accomplishing in the lives of so many Brazilian youth- showing them with their lives how much they are loved by God and witnessing the transformation that occurs when young people grab a hold of that. I came away more excited than ever about the impact that Sombra Road continues to have in Rio.