I wake up 15 minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off. After debating whether 15 extra minutes of sleep would actually make a difference, I get up and fumble over to the shower and jump in to the warmish water. It’s cold by my standards but warmish for Brasil. My showers are short these days.
After devotions, comes breakfast at 8am. It’s a pretty predictable menu: watermelon, papaya, bread and cheese, eggs, pastry, and granola; every morning. Then we meet at 9 for our “class.” We sing a few songs, have a devotional, and review the sermons.
Fast forward through the afternoon of lunch and reviewing the sermon and taking naps. It’s 5:10. We’re all standing under the pavilion waiting for the van driver to get here. One van makes it up the hill. The larger one can’t make it. We begin to gingerly walk down the hill towards the van, striving not to slip on the muddy clay. One of the guys usually helps the girls (all two of us) into the van and off we go on the bumpy roads of Laura de Freitas.
We drop off a few of the guys at their churches and finally arrive at my elder’s house. Four of us get off and walk through the gate and into the home. We greet the family and settle down on the couches. Fubar, the cat, jumps up on my lap and greets me. After a few minutes of niceties, we go to the table and eat some Brasilian delicacy prepared for us–sometimes at a great expense. After the meal we sit and talk about local events while Fubar purs on my lap.
At 7:20 I walk across the street to my church with the elder and walk upstairs to the sanctuary. I hand my flash drive to the 12 year old boy or so who runs the sounds system and he sets up the night’s presentation. After a few songs and the giveaways, my translator and I get up and give the message.
But it’s so much more than that. Of course people come forward. Of course, I go home feeling blessed. But what I can’t describe to you is the opportunity to share my Jesus. Hope is priceless. A day in the life of a hope-giver.