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.