Hope for the Hopeless (Jason)

Jacob, my son, started preschool on Monday (picture below). On my way home from his school I saw, Edimilson, a kid that we have been working with for the past year who lives in Morro dos Macacos (favela). Seated on the side of the road, he was sifting through trash looking for recyclables to sell, a common source of income for those who lack other options. I didn’t stop. I didn’t roll down the window to say hello. I know that it would only have served to embarrass him. Edimilson’s story gets worse. Due to the influence of his aunt, he got involved with Macumba, a mixture of Roman Catholicism and African Animism where the worshiper makes sacrifices to saints/gods. His parents don’t like it and kicked him out of the house. Now, when not on the street, he stays with his aunt. His situation seems hopeless.

What is interesting is that Edimilson’s situation is not that different from the youth that live in the Sombra Road House: Claudinho, Paulo, Adilio, and (potentially in June) Anderson. All four of these guys have stared a hopeless future in the face. Anderson lived on the streets for a year and was hooked on drugs. He knew, just like Edimilson knows, that Sombra Road can offer shelter. Why did Anderson seek help and Edimilson does not? Among the many possibilities, I believe that it ultimately rests on God’s grace. This is where I find hope for Edimilson. I do not rely on Edimilson’s ability to make wise decisions. I trust and pray that God will work in Edimilson to do His will. Please join with us in praying for Edimilson that God would help him to see the error of the path that he is walking and that he would see God’s gracious hand extended in Sombra Road.

The Thief (Kristin)

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10

The thief reacts quickly. You see, two weeks ago I had the first Bible study with Taiza and Maria. They were so hungry to learn about God, especially Taiza. She stared at me with large, inquisitive eyes throughout our time together - time spent learning how to look up books in the Bible finding the chapter and verse, time spent talking about God as Creator and about His desire for us to know Him because he loves us so. Taiza's excitement was contagious - she being the person that suggested we do the Bible study in the first place. But in today's Bible study, it was only myself and Maria. Where was Taiza?

She's disappeared - and not just from Bible study. She has vanished from the community center as well. For the last several days, she has been on a drug binge, and the vicious addiction-guilt cycle has forced her into running - running from her responsibilities, from the people that care about her, and most importantly, from God.

But I am confident that HE who began a good work in her WILL carry it on to completion. I am praying for her and I ask that you would also pray for her. Pray that Satan's hold on her life right now would be broken and that God would draw her back to Him and to people that will lead her in a relationship with Him so that she may have life and have it to the full. Pray also that I may have the sensitivity to the Spirit to encourage and confront her with Truth.

What's He Saying? (Jeremy)

Four months into my first year here, a lady that worked at REAME invited me to the church in which her son served as the pastor. On that particular Sunday morning, I arrived late and tried to hide inauspiciously in the back row. It was to no avail, as my friend, with her hawk-like eyes, picked me off and dragged me up to the front. She introduced me to her son, who, minutes later, assumed the pulpit. From my seat on the front row, he introduced me to the congregation. Then, he announced that he would like for me to pray for the church after his sermon. However, with only six months of language experience, the difference between future and present tense was lost on me. So, I hopped out of my seat and made my way to the pulpit at that very moment. Everyone stared up at me with confused looks, while the pastor kindly clarified that he would call me up to pray after his sermon. I slithered back to my seat, wondering if my face was as red as it was hot. Forty minutes later, the fateful moment arrived. I climbed the stairs again, grabbed the microphone, and began. “Father, thank you for your brother Jesus…” I would love to say that it got better from there, but based on the eerie silence of the congregation, it didn’t. I didn’t know what I was saying, and instead of just keeping it short, I just kept going. Out of my mouth came a whirlwind of words that were completely incoherent to both me and the congregation. It was like watching a wounded animal suffer, where you are just waiting for someone to put it out of its misery.
I think last Friday night probably had a similar feel. Carol (my girlfriend), her family and I were gathered around the family dinner table. I got down on one knee and started spewing the same non-sense that I had almost six years ago. I remember saying the word love, God and marry but not much else. The idea of asking her in front of her parents was an attempt to respect something I value in her culture, but I was starting to question the intelligence of that decision. Her brother sat across the table, shifting in his seat, empathizing with my pain. I wanted to stop and start over, but, in situations like these, you don’t have the luxury of a reset button. Sometimes life is poetry, and sometimes it is more like a tragic comedy. Her gracious yes seemed to reign it all in and tag a fitting ending to what was otherwise a wonderful day. So, yes, we are now engaged. Our plan is to get married in late May and to continue living with the guys (with some space of our own of course). I find myself extremely grateful to God for the remarkable woman that he has entrusted to me.

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…”