Waiting for Christ's return

The gap between the Old Testament scriptures and New Testament scriptures is one that has often been commented on. The silence of God. Four hundred years where there were no prophetic words, no mighty men of God, no David's nor Abraham's, and the jewish people were just left to wait.
And wait.
Their expectations were mounting, their patience trying, and their image of what their Saviour would look like were being moulded. Their people were being subdued, and their frustrations were simply ever-growing.
Then in steps Jesus. And along with Him He brings salvation to all people, and freedom from sin and death and the start of a new Kingdom, and there is an almost collective sigh of frustration from the leaders and rabbis of the jewish nation. Their sights were firmly set on an establishment of an earthly kingdom with them at the realms! They had been dreaming about this for years! They had had meetings about it, and had been encouraging each other with this idea. Their cell groups included this theme repeatedly. This simply could not be the Messiah! Jesus is rejected, because He didn't do what they expected Him to do.
Cue 2000 years of Jesus falling short of people's earthly expectations of Him and all the rejection He faces because we are looking to our own desires and at Him to fulfil them.
It is a common theme in life, isn't it? That gap where you are able to build expectations based on your own desires and understanding of the world? That holiday period in the summer, where you plan on how your new season at work is going to guarantee a promotion, as well as the best quality work the world has yet to see. That time away from the one person you've had your eye on, where you plan every last detail of the glorious moment you're going to sweep them off their feet in a moment of unrivalled romance. The moments before the match starts and you can almost feel the reactions of everyone around you as you single-handedly demolish the opponents.
Then reality hits you square in the motivational panel, oh so much faster than you'd wanted, and suddenly everything deflates like the Hindenburg, seemingly equal in disaster, too. Your boss hands back your first assignment with all-new levels of mistakes. You fail the first test of the year. Rejection is handed down on a silver platter by that special (not anymore) one. What is your first response? "Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough."? Yeah, me neither. I pretty much concede defeat and relinquish all desire to try again.
However, living in a slum and working with people who's very upbringing is programmed for disappointment demands a very different response. I can't be like the Jewish nation who reject the truth laid out before them. I can't be like my old self in my offices and slip into non-responsiveness. I need to rise up and meet the challenge and show that in the face of disappointment I will choose to continue loving with fervor.
A kid who, just last year, took an entire week of reflection before he'd decided to give his life to God is now selling drugs. Another who, just three months, ago told me how he avoids bad influences because of how it is a sure path to destruction now hangs out with drug dealers and night crawlers. Another who had brought so many of his friends to church for the first time in their lives now wants nothing to do with Christians at all because he's found drugs.
My response? Run! Run as far as you can, because these guys are lost. They're past hope. You've tried, Gav, and there's nothing more you can do.
God's response? Love. Love as much as you can, because these guys are mine. I am their hope. You'll try, Gav, and that's all I'm asking you to do.
Maybe all these disappointments are so crushing in defeats because of our attitudes towards them. We see them through our world view, and we don't stop to consider what God is doing. If the whole Jewish nation saw the world the way that God did, then Jesus's arrival wouldn't have been disappointing. It would have made sense. A change in perspective could have saved their lives. Maybe we should be looking at everything going wrong in our lives, and think, "what does this failure look like from God's angle?" In the end, He's in control, and He's working every moment here on earth for a global, eternal purpose. He will use today to get someone's attention, and doing that may require a path on which you face disappointment. So let's continue with love.

Drought in São Paulo

My wife lived in the top level of a three story divided house in our favela with a corrugated iron roof. The heat was almost unbearable at times. With the outside temperature regularly exceeding 36°C, the inside temperature would often be even higher than this because of the effective heating mechanism of her roof. Not ideal in the least.
Needless to say, when we got married and moved into the same house I was excited to get this air con installed in our new house, and so it was finished within two weeks of our return to Brazil. I started a conversation with the guy installing it about his work. He remarked that the need for aircons was new in São Paulo. Three or four years ago it was much cooler, and only people in Rio would get aircons for their hot weather. This weather was not normal to him.
Of course, to me, this is how São Paulo is, since I've only been here for two years. But apparently the heat has just increased dramatically in the last half a decade. Couple that with an unusual decrease in rainfall, especially over the water sources, and you have the recipe for drought in São Paulo that is going to put at risk many of the 20 million residents at risk of no water access. In fact, the pending plan that has been suggested to avoid a complete collapse of the system is to supply water for just 2 days every week.
That is going to be interesting.
We've already had our taps turned off for 10 hours at a time, leaving the toilets & basins full, and us waiting desperately to have a shower to rinse off the sweat from the 35°C weather outside.
The drought gave many signs over the last year or two, but public education was withheld with hopes that the rains would return and save the government from red faces. That has not happened, and so water rationing is increasing weekly. That public education could have helped and reduced the Brazilian custom of cleaning an entire house using a hosepipe in place of a broom, for one example.
All that's left now is to keep a few bottles of water around the house in hope that they will be sufficient for when the taps don't turn on anymore. But even that is looking a little bleak.
To make life a little more complicated a large part of electricity in São Paulo is hydro-electrically produced.
So if you don't hear from me for a while, pray for rain for São Paulo.

The Differences We Make

I got a text from an 18 year old teenage girl that I met 3 years ago on a beach mission trip. On this trip, we just hang out with teenagers, and encourage them in their faith and their life decisions. It had been about two years since we had last chatted, but then this happened (I formatted the language, and changed names and places):

You were probably wondering why I, of all people, texted you. Well the reason is because: that holiday when I met you guys? It changed my whole life, and today I'm missing it so dearly! I just wanted to talk to you for a little while, because I was starting to lose myself, again. But now I'm remembering all the things you told me, and spoke to me about. And the reason I texted you was just to say thank you, thank you so very much.
You guys did change my life. I felt like that holiday was going to be the last one I'd ever have. I was at my breaking point, I was so depressed and lonely and I felt like I was worth nothing. Like nobody even needed me and nobody cared. My mum didn't want me, so why was I going to even keep on living? But then, I went to my dad that holiday, to go camping. That day we drove past where you guys were, something said to me, "Go". When we stopped outside your tent I told my dad that something in my heart was telling me to go to your events. I spent the whole week that I was there with you guys. I don't know if you remember? I became so happy! I found God's love in me. That night at the bonfire when you spoke to me meant so much!! I didn't even want to leave on Christmas Day. Because you all made me believe again. You made me feel welcome, loved, like I was actually worth something.
The week after that holiday I met this guy. We've almost been going out for 3 years now, and I couldn't be any happier. He has been helping me the same way that you guys did. My grades went up, sky high! I even received awards at school. And it is just because you guys taught me to believe in myself and to trust in God. So I've made so many new friends.
My life goal, now, is to change other peoples lives and help make them better. I want to help make them see what you guys made me see.

 So I replied and told her that I'm so glad that we could've been a part of anything that God was doing in her life, and I asked her if I could tell her story to encourage the teenagers here in Brazil, and if I could, maybe she could share more of her background with me. So when I woke up this morning, she had sent me this:

You see, my mum was 17 when she had me. So, you know, she was teased about it and people told her to give me up. But she didn't.
She and my dad then got married when I was 3 years old, but the sad thing about that is that she never actually loved my dad. She only married my dad because he told her that he thought it would give me security and that I would be proud of them.
They had my little sister when I was 4 years old. But 5 years later the marriage ended. My mom wanted to be young again. She would go out at night and hardly ever come home. So my dad was the one who was like a mother to me. My dad found out that she had been cheating on him and that she wanted to leave us. She thought that because we were so young we wouldn't remember her.
I even heard those words.
I heard that she didn't want my sister and I anymore. As a 8 year old little girl, scared, and then to hear those words. It broke my heart in two. I had such bad nightmares and even panic attacks. And I was only 8 years old! Soon after that my gran took me to see a counsellor because I was beginning to hurt myself from the inside. I believed that the only reason my parents ever got married was because of me. My dad loved my mom so dearly, but she didn't love him. So it was because of me that he wasted 8 years of his life with a woman who didn't love him, just to find out that she cheated on him.
After they got divorced my mum had my half sister, with her new boyfriend, so they also got married afterwards. He was also very young when she was born, and he only married my mum because of the child. I stayed with my mum for 2 years. It wasn't so bad. I would only see my dad every second week, though, but I wanted to help my dad fix up his life because I'm his little girl, you know?
Then he met this woman. I couldn't remember who she was every time I saw her, because she wasn't from our town. I heard that my dad was moving away. He had decided to move to the coast to stay with this new woman. It was the June that I had just turned 10 and that was the first time I ever went out of Glendale. Everything was so different and so beautiful at the coast. I stayed there on holiday and it was so much fun!
Then I made the mistake of coming to live here at the coast. I was blinded by all the fun and I didn't consider all the factors. My dad's woman kept telling me to come. She'd say, "We'll give you love, come stay with us, your mum doesn't want you anyway." Those words haunt me till this day. So I moved to PE.
My gran, my mum and everyone else who loved me in Glendale was hurt. I can recall the image of my gran crying as I said goodbye to her. Even my 2-year-old half sister, who had became like my real sister, was crying for me. My dad married my stepmother and she promised me a better life. That I'd be worth something to her. That was just a lie.
Then at 10 years old, when I was starting grade 5, my life changed. That year I had a new school, new mom, and a new life. But it really wasn't great. My stepsisters and brothers were all given a lift to school, but I had to walk?! As the second youngest in the house here in PE I had to prepare meals and I had to clean the house. My stepmother was too lazy and a drunk to do it. When my dad was around she was nice to me, but as soon as he turned around she would torture me. And she didn't want me to see my mum. I had to fight and fight just to see my mum in the holidays.
So it seemed that that's how life would be. I would work like a little slave during the school terms and then in the holiday I could relax a little. Years went by like this where I could only see my mum in the holidays. My stepmother would pick on me, saying, "You are so stupid!", "You little brat you should have never been born!" She despised me. My stepbrother, who was only a year older than me, touched my sister and I sexually. But my stepmother didn't believe me, so she just tortured me more because I was making up these 'lies'. The years still passed, but I kept the truth in my heart about what had happened.
There were a lot of bad things that happened as the years went by, and I became so emotional!
Then came that holiday of 2011 when I was 15. I had decided to start working at Spur to save up money so that I could live with my mum again because she wasn't even able to afford me and my sister.
Just before Christmas we went to Plett to stay with my dad for the week. As I said, I wanted that holiday to be the last one I'd ever have with him. After that, I was never going to go back to PE. Then I met you guys, and I changed. You made me feel worth something. You guys activated the little life I still had left in me and taught me to keep strong. You taught me to hold on tight and believe.

After that, I met my boyfriend Ryan, and we've been going out for almost 3 years now. He also encouraged me to keep strong. He had fallen in love with that little bit of life I had going in me.
So I decided to stay with my dad to see if things would get better. My grades got much better and my love for God grew bigger. My stepmother realised that she wasn't getting under my skin anymore. So things were actually going good. I would still remind myself about all the things she had done, and about when I told her about how her son had tried to do things with me and my sister.
But life didn't get much easier. I still had to cook and clean, I just accepted it. In my mind I was only cooking for me, my dad and my sister.
Unfortunately, I lost track of what was happening at my mums house. See, her husband was now doing to her what she had done to my dad. The tables had turned and my mum became like my dad. She was so hurt after being cheated on.
My little half sister is now going through everything I went through. She's also 8 years old, now. I'm doing everything in my power to make her feel safe, even though I'm all the way here in PE. I'm just waiting to write my last exam at the end of this year and then I'm done with PE and my stepmother will never see me again. I'll show her that I have all this good in me. I'm going to move back to Glendale and take care of my mother and my half sister. I'm going to live my life so differently, like none of the bad stuff ever happened. The only parts I would hold on to, was meeting you guys and my boyfriend.

I replied to her again just trying to encourage her with her stepmother, but I was so blown away by this story of this young girl, and how far she's gone in her life! 
I had no idea about any of this on that mission trip. All that I remembered was this young afrikaans girl that would hang out at our events, and hardly talk to anyone. So after seeing her a few times, I just struck up a conversation with her after we had heard someone share their testimony. I asked her if she'd like to tell me her testimony, or her life story. She just froze, and I could tell she wasn't ready for that. So I left her, and asked one of the girls in my team to go follow up with her. She shared some of her story with that girl the next day, and apparently those small gestures were enough to encourage a hurting girl to be brave in her life! 
You can never know the depth of the impact you're making, it seems.
These were some of her photos she enjoys taking.

I'm Not Going to Show You That

Famously, in 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul says that he will boast in his weaknesses because Christ's strength is made perfect in them, and we all look at Paul with adoring eyes and cheer him on for such strength and depth in words so profound! But then we return to our lives and subconsciously question his sanity. In what world am I to be proud of the things that make me a failure?? This is not a part of anything I have learnt growing up!

Our weaknesses, our failures, our black spots. We don't want those on display for all the world to see. I mean, that's why we've invented makeup, base, eyeliner, photoshop, corsette's, gel, hairdye, black tshirts, plastic surgery, liposuction, teeth-whitening, Facebook profiles...things to put our best selfie forward. And when that all fails we make sure we're sucking it in, covering it up, distracting from, or ... ugh ... dieting. We're striving for an ideal that has been dangled in front of us like a carrot on a stick. And it is purposefully out of reach.

But this isn't about the production of a consumerism society. This is about our embracement of our faults. Our differences.

When I was in my earlier years, one of the perks of having a sister four years older than me with a type-A personality was being called upon to make certain fashion judgement callls. And one summer, an issue of some magazine obviously printed the idea that after you've put your outfit on, the first thing that someone else notices must be taken off, because it doesn't fit. This was my job. I was to assess my sister's outfit and tell her what I noticed first. The shoes, the scarf, the jersey...or was it all one seemless stitch of style that slipped over her like snow on the Swiss tree-tops. This is how most of us approach our life in general, isn't it?

So arriving here in Brazil, a gaping hole in our ministry dreams and efforts was a towering, screaming, obstacle named English. I have been fighting this obstacle, tooth and nail. Putting off any efforts to advance relationships until I had adequately learnt the native tongue. That is until an opportunity arose.

It turns out that the very group of people that I've been trying to reach here and encounter are intriguingly keen to learn English. They want to understand the strange murmurings of these holywood stars, and these musicians blaring through their ipods. So my girlfriend and I gladly offered to teach them as much English as their wonderfully innocent hearts desired! An incredible doorway into the lives of the teenagers I had been intimidated by because of my embarrassing language skills.

So there I stood facing the monsterous obstacle that I had been fighting for two months with a smile on my face and a thank you in my hands. I stood back as I led the way for this weakness to rise up to the top of my portrait and allowed it to manipulate it's way into my list of greatest assets.

Maybe our differences are there for a reason. Maybe we need to reassess the things that we believe are holding us back in order to advance in all glory with their prominance as our fuel!

Maybe His strength is made perfect in our weakness.

 

Bored and Unwilling

There is a lot of uncertainty that comes along with beginning a venture like leaving your family and home to go to a country whose language you don't speak. Not the least of which is, Oh my word, I have made the biggest mistake of my life so far! That seems like an ever-near concern that I need to keep at bay. I know that I can't make it go away with logic and reason, but rather with experience and results. So I will endeavour as best as I can until I get experience and results or until it all collapses in a heap of failure.

But every now and then, little flashes of certainty crop up from unexpected places that renew my vigour. One of these recent flashes has come out of the news. Like I said, unexpected places, right?

I believe that we have been given a nice, big dream and vision to initiate here in this favela, and I know that it's never been done before, so who knows if it'll work? That is, that I am saddened to see the idleness designated to teenagers as a result of a lack of options, and that that has left many of them with their only influence being the streets to guide their behaviour, their culture and their life dreams. Of course, you can imagine the results of having hormone-ravaged teens let loose to the influence of less-than-respectable characters roaming the streets at night. Our dream, however, does not involve condemning their behaviour, or telling them to change. It is one of acceptance of people, and aims to simply change the influence in their lives in the hope that the Holy Spirit will do His job of convicting.

Recently in the newspapers here in São Paulo a rather large story reminds me of the boredom these teenagers have. It's about events that have been called "rolezinhos" in which groups of teenagers who have all created 'idols' through social networks (fellow teens that post entertaining or humourous videos, or facebook posts, etc) gather together in shopping centers for a chance to meet one of these idols. This is because it would be too hard to meet every fan one-on-one. A seemingly innocent event, however random it may seem. However each and every one of these "rolezinhos" have ended up in fights and arrests. The teens seem to even get bored of what they've organized and start disturbing shop-owners and shoppers with intimidations, pranks, etc, etc. So random. Life has to have more to offer, surely!

There has also recently been a very interesting article about a place in the city center labelled Crackland. No prizes for guessing the origin of that name. It has been a headache for many governing bodies in the city, and they have tried method after method to rid this place of the great numbers of homeless people who sleep on the sidewalks and spend the majority of their lives taking, or recovering from, crack. The current government is now prepared to try something new. They are going to take all of these addicts and put them in hotel rooms on the governments bill. They are then going to give them all public-service jobs, such as literally sweeping the streets, and are even going to pay them for doing the job. The only requirement...the only requirement...is that they go to work, or at least show that they are trying to improve their life (as in, if they didn't make it to work, but it turns out that they were at a counselling session, or some similar self-improvement meeting, then no worries). They don't have to quit their addictions. This is done under the same theory the government has come up with to change their sphere of influence from the streets to a more constructive environment. Families are even allowed to share rooms, or if they have no family, then friends that they choose.

Incredible.

Of course, this isn't exactly an already successful endeavour, either, but it's reassuring to know that I'm not crazy for believing in this kind of dream. It's always nice to know of others doing something similar.

Well, let's see what happens with their project, and, similarly, hope that I can stay on track in my dream to lift my eyes to those in need and believe in others when they have given up all hope in themselves! To pursue after the bored, and be able to have a role in positive change in their lives even if they are consciously unwilling to change.

 

Brazilians don't want the soccer World Cup

The Brazilian people don't want the soccer World Cup in Brazil. It seems.

There are some who are planning on boycotting the World Cup completely. That includes not watching the games on tv. You're reading this right. The great soccer-loving nation of Brazil has people living within it's borders who are not interested in the great festivity and incredible celebration that is the FIFA Soccer World Cup.

They'd rather see their nations money spent on improving education and eradicating poverty. They are close to outrage at the idea of all of this money being wasted on a form of entertainment. The World Cup has exposed these frustrations before, and there were rumours of the similar sentimentality in South Africa in the months leading up to the 2010 World Cup, but I was unaware of any plans to boycott it completely like this. The riots during the Confederation Cup appear to be but a foretaste of the demonstrations of dissatisfaction that the people have towards a mismanagement of priorities in a country world renown for an obsession with soccer.

The blatant investment of precious wealth into an array of stadiums, advertisement and upgrades to already-adequate-in-comparison structures looks like it's a step too far on the tolerance scale of Brazilians when they know how many of their people are struggling to put food on patched-up tables. A demand for justice is rising from the bottom. The culture found amongst the majority, amongst the poor and struggling, may provide some insight into why a higher standard of justice is demanded.

I arrived from South Africa last week, and am in the process of moving into Heliopolis, a famous favela in the impressive city of São Paulo. Within hours of being shown my apartment, I began worrying about how I would afford any of my furniture or appliances. But the family that brought me in, themselves struggling with jobs and money, donated a beautiful cupboard, an adequate fridge, a mattress and a stove to me. They were more than gracious with all that they had. My girlfriend had a similar experience when she was travelling through the slum to visit some of the poorer families of the children that she had encountered. They were amazed at the fact that she didn't own a tv, and while she was going from house to house through the dire situations of these families in the favela she was offered a television by almost each household she came across.

Is this mentality of sharing so that all are taken care of restricted to those who have little to share? Is the lack of this community from the able government the distrubing factor? The rich feel cordoned off with their bounty in impressive estates, the poor out of sight and out of mind. Estates that are hiding them in plain sight. Amongst all of this is the dependable rise in commodities such as public transport or basic foods. Is it then a stretch for the imagination to expect the vast majority of the nation to protest for the money that they are hoping will rescue them from desperation be used to better their situation as opposed to facilitating a celebration that is clearly far beyond their reach?

Very far beyond their reach. The method for purchasing tickets appears to accomodate only the rich, according to the locals here in Brazil. They understand that if they apply for a ticket, they can't even choose what game they're going to watch. Which means that they may end up with a ticket for a game on the other side of the country. A game that they'll need a plane ticket to go and watch, instead of one at the stadium that may be within a short walk from their home.

Justice and community may appear to be substituted for entertainment and profit.

I am challenged personally to be as demanding of justice in my own life. To abandon and cast off that which seeks to feed my own selfishness at the cost of others. Can I, too, become dissatisfied at my own indulgence, and hungrier for community justice to be an effect of my life?

 

If You Want It

There's an amazing line at the end of Relient K's album, Forget and Not Slow Down, which goes, "I've been convincing myself that I'm worthwhile, cause I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be..."

I remember when I was an 8 or 9 year old boy walking through the shops with my mom. I was definitely a 'special' child, mostly living in my own world. Very often, when we walked through shopping centers, I would be seeing a cricket stadium, and this walk I was doing was simply my run up to the stumps with ball in hand ready to bowl. All of a sudden, this one afternoon, an older man broke through my imagination, and with his hands on both my shoulders, I think he said to me (I'm not entirely sure of the wording as I was still trying to re-orientate myself after my stadium had so suddenly been transformed back into reality): "God is going to use you for amazing things, son!" That little encounter really affected me. I had heard it a lot from my parents, but now that a complete stranger had said it, suddenly I could really believe it. I was going to be used by God. Now all the pressure was off. I didn't have to prove to others that God was using me, because, apparently, they already knew. I just had to let God do his thing. Phew. Time to aim high.

Two weeks ago, we took two boys to go collect glasses that they needed after an optometrist had offered to donate their services to our boys. We came home with two excited kids with new glasses and a lot of attention. Attention that one of the other boys was craving. So when it came to his turn for an eye examination, as the doctor put it; "He almost deceived me, but his eyes are fine. He doesn't need glasses." Our little boy had tried to pretend he couldn't see anything in an attempt to get that attention. He was willing to fake de habilitation in substitution for attention. The doctor told him that his eyes may hurt for an hour or so because of the tests. This small little insignificant statement led to a melodramatic 18-hour insistence of near-blindness. He was calling anyone near by to come help him read anything and everything in front of him because he seemed to have managed to convince himself that his eyes were too weak to be used for near-on anything!

He chose to believe the voice in his head telling him what to do to get attention. I was amazed at his commitment, and apparent stern belief that in the course of one day he had gone from reading the tiny letters on the pages of the bible, to not even being able to read a stop-sign from up close.

I guess life really does change depending on the voices we choose to believe.

 

Hypochondriac

I can remember so vividly, walking down the streets with four other missionaries and a tackle box with medicinal supply. The vast majority of the severe wounds treated were simply addressed with standard cream, yet were received with the belief that all problems were now in the past. These open scars, battered bodies and warped bones were in dire need of serious medical attention and all they joyously received was an application of a generic medicine. And we were so happy to apply it, because these precious souls left to waste away on the street have overcome some unspoken barrier to even allow us into their lives for a few minutes. Many seem to hide their external hurts along with those fatal internal ones.

Back in the Rescue Home, the use of "chave 29" to open this cupboard door is like the moment jolly old saint Nicklaus opens his red bag; only this is the pharmaceutics cabinet. As soon as I open this door, a stream of injuries are suddenly brought to everyone's consciousness, and attention is demanded by ex-street boys protesting the severity of their ailments. Many of these injuries are minor cuts and bruises they received on the playground weeks ago, but now that the magic cupboard has been opened, revealing its seemingly endless supply of magical bandages and miraculous creams and sprays, the boys line up, most likely with the youngest first to reach us, asking to be attended to by doctor 'cupboard-opener'. These boys have encountered a form of love and affection and are ready to milk it for all that they can.

However, I can't help but wonder if it's gone too far, and this unnecessary application of medicine inhibits a healthy self-image for them. Do they see themselves as broken people inside, too? Does this explain many of our issues with the boys? Is this external anxiety mirrored internally? Even though we are helping them grow in every way we are aware of and that love and discipline allows for, do they still look at healed wounds inside their mauled hearts and demand scars? Are these wonderfully loved boys rejecting love because their broken and damaged self-image of wounded needs to be retained to maintain any familiar feeling or understanding to their lives?

As always, this makes me think about how I have fallen prey to this apparent human behaviour. Do I see myself as a broken person in areas that I am healed? I have read verse after verse after verse of how God defines me, and have often, repeatedly, struggled to believe it. I have even flat out rejected it as idealistic, and impossible. I can not be holy and blameless, no matter how many times I recite Colossians 1:22. It's an antonym of my very obvious sinful nature! I am weak, prone to failure, falling very short of the mark repeatedly. Abandoning God's love, embracing my humanity. My laziness propels me to new depths; deserved depths. Depths that missionaries, or pastors, or christians, or any normal person should ever venture. Who would dare venture anywhere near me, let alone consider a fragile, incapable, and obviously stubborn soul like me to be of any value? A soft voice whispers some necessary words:

If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! - Psalm 139:8

God created man in his own image...and saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good. - Genesis 1:27, 31

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. - 1 Corinthians 5:17

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. - 1 Peter 2:9

...be transformed by the renewal of your mind... - Romans 12:2

I take the bandages and redundantly apply them to the boys' sores, knowing that this will tip the scales and cause them to win this psychological fight... for today. But I also know we will be here the next time.

 

Justice

I've watched as the police herd over 100 homeless druggies like cattle into streets more concealed so that their unsightly behaviour doesn't inconvenience the wealthy and sober. The ministers of justice doing their civic duty by hiding those who have been treated the most unjustly so that the unaffected may carry on in their ignorance of a world in dire need of action.

Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is justic; It's place and importance in our lives. I'm sure justice is amongst your highest priorities, whether you actively pursue it or not. It's the reason that you get angry in the traffic, the reason you vote, or read the news or even include yourself in discussions about the poor. These sorts of emotional reactions throw us into one of two categories for each experience. Either we're a part of the offended category who respond to the advancement of others with a bewildered, "why??", or we're a part of the favoured, in which case we feel the unnatural touch of our humility as we argue about the necessary equalization of the scales for those who don't know the joys that we do.

We look up to people who we believe are the best at instilling justice in our perspectives. They know when to defend us, or when to reproach us, giving our consciences that peace that we're not being taken advantage of.

Why is this on my mind? I went for a walk through "Crack-land" this week, and unfortunately got to see street after street just lined with people who are sitting on the sidewalk, puffing on their crack pipes, sleeping or having conversations with an imaginary person. It's a sight to make anyone cringe, while the city continues to buzz with ambition and productivity (I was not permitted to take pictures, because it induces a violent reaction from the areas inhabitants). I was walking through these streets with a team of 5 people who were just addressing the cuts and scratches of anyone who was sober enough to realize they could get help.

My thought the whole time was, "what if this was me? What would I do?" But for it to be me, I can't just place myself into their situation with my background. I need to inherit their background. I need to relive their sources of pain from which they all began looking for an escape. That is almost impossible to do, because each person would have a story that is worth a National Geographic special on. I saw one boy who was being arrested by the cops. I don't know why they were arresting him, but I had heard the story of how he came to be on the streets. I must warn you, this isn't charming:

He lived with his mom, sister and step-dad. In a world of poverty, he didn't have many people to rely on, but his step-dad was his role model. He loved him, and wanted to be like him one day. Other people may not have been trust-worthy in this survival race, but to him, this guy was. Then one day, he came home to find out that his dad had raped his sister and stabbed his mom. Needless to say, his world was crushed. The only person that he had ever looked to that could pursue justice in this world was now the very person to cause the biggest injustice he had experienced. What would that do to any person?

He lived on the streets in determined rebellion of any guidance an adult would try give him. He simply was not interested. How would I react to that situation? Would I also not end up on the street trying to escape reality? Trying to get away from a world so disgusting?

So why does God let this kind of thing happen? Why is there so much injustice, if He's a good God? If He really loves 'the world' so much that He sent His only Son, surely He wouldn't allow this to happen! However, that's taking a very narrow perspective on life. If God didn't allow the consequences of humanity's despicable actions to take their terrible course, then there would be no motive or change to pursue justice as a community. We're sadly living in a world that believes less and less in community and more in the individual. As a result we're losing this larger picture perspective, as well as our effectiveness to pursue justice, but that doesn't mean that we can offload the blame onto a loving God, because I can promise you one thing:

No matter what street you try hide your inconveniences in, God is there in full view of them. He sees them even when you choose not to, and His heart hurts because of this. He has chosen us to be His only plan, His only response, His hands and feet, and we've chosen to hide ourselves from it and blame HIm. I believe in the potential of this world, though, that we can all actively engage in justice, and by the power of God, become the change on earth that we've been praying for! Do you?

 

Uncapping Our Capabilities

A couple of days ago at the rescue house I was sitting at the breakfast table with two female volunteers and four of the boys. A couple of the boys had coughs or sore throats, and were asking for a little medicinal assistance. Suspiciously enough from a high-sugar syrup. The first boy took the bottle and tried to twist off the cap, and failed. One of the other volunteers took it and tried, and also failed. The second volunteer then said, "Let's just give it to Gavin to open it now," and that familiar feeling of pressure hit me. Two of the boys took this as a challenge and jumped up to try before me. After many failed attempts, they conceded defeat and handed me the bottle. I took one look at it, and then softly removed the strip of plastic that seals the cap, preventing it from being tampered with, and then easily unscrewed the lid in the face of slightly embarrassed laughs.

It made me think of how hard we work at trying to defeat our failures, when often our answer lies in a much simpler task than pure brute force.

In the face of one of the ever-present conflicts at the house, a particularly anger-prone boy was in the middle of a fight with his brother, and his face was covered with the familiar uncontrolled rage that indicated restraint was most likely imminent. I jumped in between the two boys and faced the anger-prone one. I shouted in a controlled manner, "You don't want to do this!!" At this point he took of one of his slops and threw it at his brother. "Listen to me! You don't want to do this! Think! Just let it go!! Let it go, and leave it alone!" He still hadn't take his eyes off of his brother, and his breathing got a lot heavier at this point. I still hadn't even touched him other than his shoulders to try get him to look at me.

I reached out and pulled a chair closer to us, and leaning down to his level I shouted again, "Just let it go, and sit down here with me!" And to my absolute amazement, he did. He looked away from his brother and slowly sat down on the chair in front of me, and turned to the side. "Awesome. That's all you need to do. You're doing awesome, just let it go." His face looked like it was still full of anger, but it seemed that he had chosen to give up the need to try and wrestle his dominance here. I was so very cautiously excited! I asked, "Are you okay, now? Can I leave you?" He nodded! So I got up and took the other brother away to brush his teeth. When I returned, my heart stopped when I saw the chair was now empty. I almost turned and ran back to the bathroom, when I looked inside and saw that he was now doing his chore, wiping clean the dining table!

Unbelievable!

All it took was realizing that he didn't have to do anything!

I have many ... many ... many (I don't know if I have enough 'many's memorized) personal troubles that I struggle with. I know I believe in God, and I know that the bible says that in Christ we have freedom from sin, I just have struggled and wrestled and put all of my strength in fighting this rebellion, very dismally. It breaks my heart every single time I let God down. I even question my claim to Christianity. But I read recently an explanation of Philippians 2.13, "It is God who works in you, both to will and to do for his good pleasure." I knew that God had changed my will, that's why I would always get so heart-broken. I just had never let God fight for me instead. I had never sat down with Him, and let Him deal with my sin. I had always tried to do it myself. A mind-blowing concept. It is God's job to fight for me! He just can't fight when I'm always getting in His way, and trying to fight in His place.

It is exactly as if the sealant on Christ's freedom had been removed. I'm not sure how much my little boy at the house has realized the truth in this lesson we experienced, and I am sure that I will let God down again, I just know that the cap on our potential through God is a lot easier to remove now that the sealant has gone.

 

My First Shock When Working With Street Kids

All these homeless kids living on the street don't want to be 'rescued'.
This is the first realization that I had after I arrived in São Paulo after leaving my job and country to help kids that I was sure were desperately wanting people to come and give them a chance at escaping their situations. But the truth is that they don't want to be off the streets. All these 7, 8 ,9-year-olds are quite satisfied with the life they've grown accustomed to, irrespective of the fact that it ends 50 years shorter than the average life. They may never have an education, a family, a happy home, professional respect or a 21st birthday, but the appeal of this life on the street over shadows any pursuit that we would deem valuable or important in this life.
Why? What is keeping them so shut off from the truth that they are not better off on the streets?

I volunteer at a rescue house for street kids. We have 7 kids in the house at the moment, even though there are hundreds on the street in the city. Even more, now, because of the new year. We just received a new boy, who we'll call "M", who had run away from an abusive home situation and was desperate to stay as far away from home as possible. This makes our work a lot harder, because we have to find his family without his help, now, and try work with their indifferences while housing him and reassuring him we're on his side. M is very quiet, and avoids any physical contact with anybody. He seems to have started trusting me, because I don't try get too close to him.

So I asked him, "do you like it here?"

"I like some of it."
"What don't you like?"
"They make us eat tomatoes."
He then runs away from me. Just this conversation was too much too soon. But it showed a small insight into why a rescue house is less attractive than the street. On the street, nobody makes you do anything. You can do whatever you want.

With the benefit of having a healthy upbringing, as most of us have had (and lets be honest, your family may have had issues, but if you're sitting here reading this, you're educated, with access to technology, thus money, education and opportunities. You've had a comparatively healthy upbringing) we know that a certain amount of rules is good. It teaches discipline, respect, self control and shows maturity. But that's the long term effects, and the alternative option these street kids have is immediate freedom from rules. Even if it means sleeping with dog blankets under a bridge on rainy nights. How can they not see that this is not a good long-term plan? What may feel like freedom right now is actually the very chains that are going to end their life short. This freedom will prevent any chance of a healthy life.

Who are we to judge? The mere mention of the name, "Jesus", puts many of us on immediate defense. Yet God created us and loves us and simply wants the best long term plan for us, right? But we know that if we truly turn to God, He's going to ask us to do things that go against what we want right now. He's going to ask us to leave this immediate freedom we feel, and do things that require self-control, discipline, respect.

If you haven't reached the conclusion of this point already, let me help. Freedom without God is blind-sighted and secretly an inescapable prison of chains. I can personally vouch for that. A life that follows the 'rules' of God is the pursuit of true freedom. Free from addiction, free from pain, depression and death.

I watch M run away, and my heart is filled with joy. He gives us a lot of trouble at the house because of how cut off he is right now, but he's not on the streets anymore. He found one of our volunteers, and begged them to find him a home. They gave him their number and he phoned them every single day until we had sorted out the paperwork to take him in. He's lost the street's independence, highs and freedom, but he's gained a future of hope, potential and freedom.

The Gems of Communication Barriers

My role at the rescue house is to be a mentor to these kids. To teach them, guide them, discipline them, encourage them and answer any questions about life that they may have. Sound familiar? Well, yes, it's the role of a parent, isn't it.

How much of that can be done when the people involved in this parent-child relationship speak different languages? When the child does something wrong, how much can be said with the primary use of hand gestures? When he's feeling down and seems very disappointed with himself, how much can be understood with words unheard of?

I realize that this Portuguese frustration I have is something well documented, but when people are willing to communicate with each other, they find a way. For example, I had a really good 'conversation' with one of the boys while we were playing basketball the other day, and I felt like I was able to play a good role in his life then. He wasn't getting the ball in as often as I was, and he kept putting himself down. He would miss the hoop, and start walking away every time saying, "Não bom, não bom" which I've at least figured out means, "not good, not good." I really don't like seeing a young kid like this, with all the potential in the world, giving up so easily. So I went to him, and managed to communicate something that my dad had always told me growing up.

I told him, you shouldn't ever say that you can't do something. You just need to practice. When I was younger, my dad told me that I could do anything. Anything that I wanted, I just needed to work at it. So you might not be good right now, but with some practice, you can do anything. With everything in life, don't say that you can't. Just say that you need to work at it.

He seemed to really understand the concept. I mean, it wasn't some hollywood moment where he got a grin on his face and started popping the ball in the basket while drinking Pepsi, but he had a stern face and was more willing to pick the ball up when it hadn't gone in.

This was one of my rare moments of successful communication with the boys. So you can understand my frustration when I have to spend the entire weekend with them, and I can't really speak to any of them. I have learnt how to develop our relationship in other ways, but this was exceptionally restricted on Saturday when we were driving out to a water park, roughly two hours away. When you're in the car, and you have to turn around to talk to the boys, there's no easy way of using hand gestures, and no form of affection because of the chairs.

I found the car was very excitable, because we were off on an outing, and there's so much that these guys haven't seen in the world, yet. So there's a lot of conversation going on, and lots of laughs. There's some back seat tussles, and huge stories being told about places that everyone's gone to before, but I can follow none of the details. Only the bigger picture. I try to contribute to the conversation, but inevitably fall short, and I just shake my head, apologizing for my Portuguese. The boys reply saying that I was learning Portuguese much faster than anyone. I was doing really well and my Portuguese was good. I hear this, thinking, "I can't even tell you guys about going to the beach?" So I just brush aside their encouragements and say, "Meu Portuguêse e não bom." At this point, my basketball buddy piped up and said, "Remember what your dad said to you, and you said to me? You mustn't say that it's not good, you just have to work at it."

How's that for a refreshing slap in the face? For almost a second I was embarrassed that I wasn't living according to my own advice, but then I was just filled with pride for this boy.. He had taken hold of that little conversation, and it was a part of him almost a week later!

Of course, that has me a little worried. It seems that I've only applied my dad's advice to sport! And that's 'não bom' at all. There are so many areas where I believe God needs me to overcome, and I've completely had a negative attitude towards them, thinking I'll never be able to do this, or I'll never be able to get past that. The bible, itself, is filled with the same encouragements from God that my dad gave me, telling me that I'm equipped enough, I'm encouraged enough, I'm able enough to do anything and everything that is asked of me by my Maker. I'm so thankful for this kid's refreshing slap in my face, because he is helping me finally eradicate one attitude that doesn't belong in my life!

 

Unconditional Love

At the Rescue House, where we house a few street children, it's Saturday afternoon, and we've sent the two younger boys away on a camp for all of this last week. The house has been a lot easier to live in with only the older boys, to be honest. We've had way less fights than usual, some incredibly constructive conversations as well as spiritually deep devotional times. All these boys have seemed focused, helpful, and excited about everyday. Which has been very interesting. How could two young boys cause so much difficulty with these teenagers? Ah, of course!! It's because those two younger ones are masters at provocation. They taunt and tempt and push everyone's buttons just because they're boys, and thats what young boys do.

I have not been looking forward to today, at all. I know they're supposed to come back in the early afternoon, but we're having some really constructive time with the older ones, still.

In fact, just earlier this morning, while sitting on a trampoline, the other Tia (lady) that was on duty had an hour long conversation with all the boys about the spiritual difficulties they've had in their lives and how that may be affecting them now. Some of them had been offered as sacrifices to spirits by family members, and others have been cursed, and they're still living with some of those after effects in their lives. This kind of conversation needs a stable environment. One free from a short attention span. Free from deliberate irritation. Free from the younger, uninterested input. We still have that environment, now. We can still do more!
Two o'clock came and went, and the other two boys still aren't back. This was supposed to be the part of my day when the difficulties were starting. So we carried on the day. My mind is working back and forth about what could possibly go wrong, and now postponing the waiting time seems even more torturous. These boys could tear this place down in one night, if they wanted to. I remember the last time I was here when all the boys returned from time away from each other. Emotions overflowed into many fisticuffs and cursing. Maybe we should take all these boys away to the lake and wait for the younger ones to settle before bringing them back home. Hopefully they'll be superbly tired when the gate opens and they arrive.
Three o'clock. The gate bell rings. Oh no. This is it. Play time is over, it's time to get the gloves out and be ready for absolutely anything that is about to happen. I go inside and fetch the gate remote. I'm pretty much going through the motions now. This is not the most exciting part of my day at all. I point it to the gate and push the button.
The gate is not even half way opened when I catch sight of one of the boys. He looks up and our eyes lock. He gets half way through shouting my name, slams the car door closed and sprints full speed. He sprints through the gate up the driveway, past his brothers, past the other boys at the house. He's not even smiling. He's got a look of shear determination to diminish the distance between us that has apparently been way too long! From a full two meters away he leaps off the ground and spreads his arms out forcing me to catch him in a tight embrace. He holds onto me, hugging so tightly, but unable to say anything because we don't speak the same language. Verbally. I hold him back and my heart is filled with so much joy! So much peace and happiness. This family is complete, again! We're back together, we have our two missing pieces back! I can't even believe how long this week has suddenly felt, now knowing that I haven't seen them for that long!!

Every fear, every negative thought, every negative anticipation I had: gone!, in a single, glorious moment! Yeah, I'm very sure that we're going to have trouble tonight (in fact, two hours later, the youngest of these two got so angry in being told he had to take a shower, that our dining hall ended up with rice, beans and chicken all over the floor, on the walls, and even on the roof), but that's what we're here for. To learn how to get through life, together!
I have to admit this was an altogether familiar feeling that I experienced. It's often the way I feel before I meet with God. I dread and fear the way my life is going to be ruined when I go to Him. He is going to say things that are not going to sit well with my conscience. He may even start asking me to do things that do not go well with my comfort. I might have to get out of my comfort zones in ways that I was not prepared for. So I try and put off this meeting with God. That doesn't help, though. I start going through that same torture as I wait in anticipation for something that I KNOW is a part of my life: my time with my Maker.
Then when I come to Him...Ah all chains fall off!! What a cliche, but how true! My burden feels lighter, my mountains feel easy to conquer, and my love feels complete! If you've never read Jon Acuff's blog post called Thinking God will run out of welcome home banners, then I honestly suggest you do that! It will be ten minutes that you will want to (and probably will) relive over and over again. It's exactly the same idea, that God is just so in love with us that we almost refuse to believe it.
A challenge? No, there's no challenge in this blog post. Only a point of self-reflection. How are your times with God going? My times have been struggling because of this illogical fear. Maybe it's the same for you, but we all need to accept this unrelenting pursuit of Christ is counter-intuitive to resist.

Shirt Stained With Tears

Here's a personal story that impacted me, recently, though I must just tell you that for the boys' sake, I'm not allowed to put their images on the internet. Hence the blurry photo's:

There's one boy (let's call him R. He's 10), here at the rescue house, who seems a little bit more composed than the rest. He hasn't lost his temper like the others have. He doesn't seem to be so emotional, while still being very affectionate. I've also noticed he's very sensitive to other people's feelings and often reacts appropriately, in the best way he knows how.

On Friday, however, he was in a very irritable mood with his younger brother (9). I had to literally step in between the two of them after they had brushed their teeth, to stop them fighting. This was over an argument that had developed about who should put the cap back on the toothpaste. It is normally the 9 year old, V, that will explode and rage for up to an hour while one of the volunteers have to restrain him from hurting himself or someone else. So after V had walked away, I spoke to R, and told him that he needs to have more patience with V. I told him that he's older, so he can't expect his younger brother to be more mature than him. He still had a really angry look on his face, but he left it, and we spent the rest of the morning playing silly little paper games, while V played games with one of the older brothers.

I told one of the girls, who works at the organization, that morning that for some reason I could feel God's presence with me in a different way that day.

Lunch time came. I have no idea how this even happen, I was a little distracted. But from what I can gather in my very very limited Portuguese is that R knocked his younger brother, V, as he walked behind his chair with his elbow, and V just exploded. He jumped off his chair and the two of them were trying to beat each other up right there next to the lunch table. I launched for V, and pulled him away thinking that him losing his temper would be the bigger threat. I didn't want him to rage for an hour again, so I took him away from the dining room with my hands wrapped around him in a soft, but affirming hug. I just told him to stay calm, and he did! It was a miracle! It's the first time that I haven't seen him lose control of himself, literally. So after not even 5 minutes of waiting for one of the other volunteers and the oldest brother, W (15), to drag the usually calm R out of the house, I let V go sit down. He was very calm.

I sat down with him for a couple of moments just to make sure he wasn't trying to trick me, and then got up and went outside to find R. I am very fond of this boy. I found him being restrained by the other volunteer and we waited for his anger to subside. Once he seemed like he wasn't about to run inside and try fight V again, I asked the volunteer to leave me and the boy out there. The volunteer wasn't on duty, and it was lunch time. He needed to eat. So I sat there with R and spoke to him about his brother. I said that I know V will provoke him all day long, but he needs to stay calm and relaxed, he must just forget about it. He needs to do this often if he wants to be friends with his brother when they're older.

He sat with an unfamiliar angry look on his face while we were talking. I took him by the hands and put him on his feet and told him that he needs to give me a hug before we go back. He very quickly wrapped his arms around me, and I just held him. I told him that I love him so much, and I love his brother, and I really want him to love his brother, too. I then asked if I could pray for him, and he nodded. So I prayed. I started in Portuguese, and then changed to English, because I can't actually speak that language. While I was praying, I could feel the love of God overcome me, and I was filled with emotions for this kid in my arms. I started to cry as I prayed. Afterwards, I knelt down next to him to encourage him, and he saw my tears. He lifted his shirt and wiped them away, with his one arm now around my neck. I asked him if he was ok, and he put on a grin and nodded.

He could see in my eyes how much love I had for him and his brothers.

I stood up again, he jumped on my back and we headed back towards the house!

I want us all to be able to share love with each other. But I've learnt that that love comes from God. It truly does, that's not just a cliched little saying that we use to make each other feel better. When other people are acting in ways that make us angry, or provoke us, we can rely on God to renew us with love if we simply take the time to ask! It's a simple, but important concept! My cry, again, is let's change this world with genuine love for each other. The love that is tough to give!

 

One Man's Trash; Another Man's Treasure

I'm now living in São Paulo as a missionary. I have no salary, and my job is to help raise a group of children, teaching them love, discipline and hope.

Given this lifestyle, of course, means that I now rely on the good hearts of people that have had the honor of being brought up in a loving family, and have learnt how to love others, too. This has been made very real to me recently after having moved into a new apartment kindly loaned to me by the ABBA organization I volunteer for. My new room was literally a square with a bed and nothing else. No cupboard, no desk, no chair or anything other than a bed...with a mattress on it. I have since acquired something of a cupboard. It keeps my clothes out of sight, at least.

I was speaking to one of the social workers about my dilemma, and he suggested we sit down and pray together. He told me how, when the office for the organization had opened, that very week they had been donated all the office furniture they needed, without even asking anyone for help. It is a new concept to me, that I should pray that God will find people who are throwing away the very things I need and put it in their hearts to donate them to our organization. I am now living on the charity of people. My blanket is the trash of a Cuban family that lived in São Paulo for ten years, and decided to get rid of their linen when they moved back to Cuba. My pillow has a similar story, as does my 'cupboard' and even my bed.

I realized that other people's trash has become my treasure.

While I was browsing the internet I stumbled across a beautiful story about a group of people in Paraguay who live on a landfill. One day, they found a violin case, and it gave them the idea to start making instruments out of the trash in the landfill. They now have an orchestra called the Recycled Orchestra, or the Landfill Harmonica. Their clever little titles make me laugh. Their endeavour to turn worthless trash into personally priceless treasure is truly inspiring. I got really excited about this, and it made me think of my situation in my room... I am definitely considering carpentry.

So what does this have to do with our ministry?

Well it's exactly the same, sad concept. All of it. Our organization has found a group of boys that the world had thrown away and indifferently decided to have nothing to do with, and have set out to put so much value and worth on their lives to show them how incredibly priceless their life is. We are treasuring the world's trash in one of the saddest situations I know. The affects of being thrown away rears it's head time after time, but our endurance to treasure them continues.

I just think back to how many times I stood in a room filled with people, knowing that there was someone there that was just written off by everyone else. Someone different, or weird, that I didn't understand, and how many times I avoided them. I was a part of all the issues being piled up in that persons life that worked to chip away at their self worth. I was a part of making them feel like the trash of the world. I'm slowly learning that every person really is a treasure, even the ones that I can't get anything from!

If we could treasure the trashed, one soul at a time, would love not become a part of everyone's lifestyle?

Keeping Character

I am definitely a child of Hollywood, and it really impacts my life at times. For example, when you watch a crime series on tv, sometimes the most random thing suddenly happens, and you know that that's going to be important in figuring out whodunnit! Then when something random happens to me in real life, I inadvertently build up a degree of apprehension for the unveiling as to it's significance. Which, of course, rarely happens. I had to get an unscheduled Yellow Fever shot while boarding a plane last week, and I walked away from it thinking, "I wonder when the lesson from that experience will show it's face."

Given this kind of Hollywood mind-set, I was always under the impression that my parents were deeply in love at all times, and would always want to go on a first date with each other. I mean, that's how we're taught marriage works on tv. A couple meet each other, they fall in love, and are always and forever infatuated with each other. If they're not, well then they were never meant to be together in the first place.

Right?

I have seen some really broken hearts who have found this to be a lie we've been fed. But, to be fair, it sells some pretty decent movies.

My father had a stroke in 2002, at a relatively young age. This was a major stroke in the left hemisphere of the brain, which is the section that controls, for the most part, your logic (as well as the right side of your body...just FYI). For a man who was running his own business as a structural engineer, and was a genius with numbers, this was, of course, a drastically life changing event. But, my dad's always been a fighter, and he showed huge amounts of strength soon after this happened. He wouldn't show his internal fight with any of us, but we learned later on that he would secretly go to the bottom of the garden and let out a bit of a cry on his own. His life had suddenly been torn apart completely outside of his control or influence.

The next person in line that it affected the most was my mom, of course. The man she'd chosen to marry, this diamond, pearl, prince, one-of-a-kind man literally became someone else overnight.

After a few years I was talking to my mom about the situation, and said to her something along the lines of, "...but you're still in love with dad, right?" Her response completely shocked me. It was probably the wisest and most challenging thing I'd ever heard up to that point in my life. It was definitely not the answer I wanted to hear, and was even initially a little bit disappointed. She was supposed to answer, "Yes, of course! Crazy in love!" You know, like a teenager, or Rose from Titanic ready to abandon her future of prominence for this love.

Not my mom. At this stage, she answered a little shyly, and almost uncertainly, "Is it even about that? Or is it about a promise I made to God all those years ago?"

Wow. It took me a few days of mulling this over in my small mind before I realized the weight of this. She had made a choice that, for better or worse, no matter what she would stay faithful and loving to my dad. She had no idea the situation that it would get her into about 22 years later.

I made a choice. My decision was to answer "yes" to God's call to come to Brazil and work with street kids. I had no idea that this would mean being completely abandoned to myself. No friends, no family, and now, here in Brazil, almost no one to hold a conversation with because I'm the only English speaking person around. On my second day here I almost went into a panic because I could suddenly feel the weight of all that I'd left behind, as well as the drastic isolation and difficult position that I now found myself in. Now, honestly, the thought of turning back never entered my head, but the thought of going on seemed impossible.

That's when I remembered the attitude of my mom. She had now shown me first hand what it meant to stick to your promise made to God, and I fully intend to follow in her footsteps

 

Purpose

Agent Smith: But, as you well know, appearances can be deceiving, which brings me back to the reason why we're here. We're not here because we're free. We're here because we're not free. There is no escaping reason; no denying purpose. Because as we both know, without purpose, we would not exist.

Clone 1: It is purpose that created us.

Clone 2: Purpose that connects us.

Clone 3: Purpose that pulls us.

Clone 4: That guides us


Clone 5: That drives us.


Clone 6: It is purpose that defines us.


Clone 7: Purpose that binds us.


Agent Smith: We are here because of you, Mr Anderson. We're here to take from you what you tried to take from us.

Purpose.

This scene, from the second Matrix movie, Reloaded, recounts Agent Smith giving the incentive he has for his all out assault on the human race. Purpose.

They say that the worst pain that a human can endure is having your femur bone cracked in half. Although, come to think of it, this information came across my path via Brian Regan, a comedian, so maybe we shouldn't take it verbatim, but why would he lie? The second worst pain, according to my torrent of information, is childbirth. However, nobody questions the choice of newly wed couples to begin a family. It's not often that a mother will advise her daughter against conceiving because the pain is too much to handle. Yet, if in almost any other situation in life, when anyone faces that amount of torment, we will all stand around and curse the pain unendingly.

Why?

Purpose.

The amount we believe in an outcome, or agree with a dream, will directly affect the amount of discomfort we are willing to endure. Have you, or someone you know ever been really badly initiated into a team? Like had to endure some pretty hardcore treatment? In the movie Old School, a group of grown men are 'abducted' by their team leader, and put through a series of interesting commitment tests to show their level of passion before they're allowed joining the group. I won't go into details, but if you've seen the movie you'll know what I'm talking about. It's believable as a script, because we know that these men are so desperate to join what is essentially a sorority.

Or, conversely, I'm sure all of us have heard of an old married couple where one passes away, and very soon after the other does, too. It always saddens me to hear of this, because it seems that they have given up on life, and discovered that without a reason to wake up every morning, life just isn't worth the effort.

The whole idea of purpose has often challenged my barometer for passion. Especially in areas that I consciously claim to have passion. Am I willing to endure higher levels of discomfort than other people would for this cause? If not, can I really claim to have found purpose?

I know I have been given a dream in life. A purpose. A reason to give up more than others, and to risk more than seems logical, and soon I will have to face up to the feelings of discomfort that could challenge my commitment and my passion. The loneliness, the isolation, the frailty and the lack of control of my situation will be all new territories that I will step into, but I need to find the resolve now to overcome and endure. My decision has been made, and my path has been laid before me and, right now, I refuse to accept anything less than full passion for this cause. Because I believe in it, and I have a purpose to play in it.