Homecoming

Among good campers there’s an unspoken agreement: we’ve traded the comforts of home for the excitement and adventure of the road. We don’t complain about the absence of the familiar comforts. We focus on the adventure. I think it’s a good trade. But it takes energy. One may not realize how much until one collapses into an armchair at home.

Our fifty-five month camping trip ended this week. Our furniture and belongings, which I shipped from Seattle while I was there in September, arrived in Lisbon after eighty days at sea. I sat in my favorite armchair—inherited from my grandmother; exactly like one that appears in Gone with the Wind—and read the newspaper, for the first time in well over four years. Debbie laid on the couch—actually an upholstered aircraft carrier—and delightedly wiggled her toes, unable to reach anywhere near the far end. Drex is beside himself, getting reacquainted with things of which he has only the vaguest memories. Austin and Vitor brought lasagne Friday evening so Austin could play with her dolls. When they left, Vitor dutifully if bemusedly bundled the little trunk with all the tiny doll things off to the car. I was shocked by how nice it is just to be among our things. I had not realized what good campers we were being.

As a strategic measure, we put together the living room so we’d have a place to which we may retreat, even though it’s almost impossible to move around the rest of the apartment for all the boxes. As I sat in my Rhet Butler chair and looked around I thought about the story it all tells: I remembered where we bought things and when, how young we used to be, people who gave us things, how long we’ve been married. It made me glad. And thankful.

Decorating for Christmas this year means not just putting out lights and goodies from Christmases past, but unpacking our lives and arranging them so there’s someplace to hang the decorations. Christmas is a time for homecoming. God started it, by sending us His Son, so we may all go home. Getting our furniture has been a powerful reminder of His faithfulness and of how sweet that homecoming will someday be.

We pray your Advent Season is blessed and that God reveals to you, too, the magnitude of His love and care for you.

"A Luz dos Justos Brilha Alegremente"

“The light of the righteousness shines happily.” Proverbs 9:12

(Jesus is our righteousness.)

I am not a battery, that I might be recharged, as I have imagined. I have no capacity to store energy. I was mistaken because, like the filament in a light bulb, I may remain warm after the power of God has stopped flowing. That is, after I’ve stopped paying attention to God, after the switch has been shut off.

So what am I to do, if I have to be directly connected to the Source in order to do any good?

Pray continually.

Sounds daunting. But if it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives through me, as Paul contends, if I have the very mind of Christ, as Paul argues elsewhere, then it’s all prayer. It’s all prayer. Every thought, every worry, every idea, every complaint, every lust, every enmity, all of it. Everything that passes through my brain passes too through the mind of the Almighty, Who is always with me, Who’s Spirit is so closely allied with my own it is impossible to distinguish between the two. (I’m just repeating what Jesus said). That’s why Paul could talk about praying continually. It’s all prayer. That’s also why Christians must be so terrifyingly careful about what thoughts they admit into their heads. “I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned,” Jesus said (Matthew 12:36-37). That is, every word spoken before God. That is, everything.

So don’t let anyone convince you you’ve got to get up early or be on your knees or have your hands folded or your eyes closed to pray. It’s good to be on your knees for the same reason it’s good to sit up straight and pay attention in class. But if you have been born again, you’re praying now.

If you haven’t been born again, join a little group of people who are seeking after God. It hardly matters what tribe. You’ll find saints and heretics almost everywhere you go, but when people set out together to really find God, they find Him.

Each day a work of art

Please pray for Zapman (secret identity: Drex). Though indefatigable in his crusade against crime here at home, he has not been as vigilant fighting uncertainty at school. He’s sometimes reluctant to ask questions. That’s normal enough, but well do I remember the dread attending classes where one has fallen behind. Contrast that with the pleasure of keeping up; humbly, diligently making sure you get explanations you understand. It can make all the difference, not just in school but in life. The temptation to pretend you understand can be intense and can lead to all sorts of misery. But asking questions is risky. Colleagues, classmates, Sometimes even teachers, don’t always respond well. To take the risk a person must have resources upon which they know they may draw. The love of God is such a resource. Please pray that Zapman would have a secure sense of it.

(Incidentally, Zapman comes by his heroism naturally. A young Lisbonita recently remarked, upon seeing Zapman’s mom, a.k.a., Zapma (secret identity: Debbie) carelessly toss aside a heavy burden, “She’s ripped!”)

Please pray for Crista da Onda, the ministry to at-risk youth with which we are involved here in Lisbon. The organization faces difficult issues, some of which are endemic to young non-profit organizations, others of which are particular to Crista da Onda. Please pray that God would be glorified and that Crista da Onda would flourish and bear much fruit.

Please pray Psalm 90:12 for me: “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom.” I am still in the process of bringing some order to life in Lisbon. Of course, given the nature of life and our work in particular it will always involve a certain amount of disorder, but there are certain things a guy’s gotta get done. One of those is keeping in close communication with people who are praying for you. Life has not yet gotten so easy for me that I can forego the resources made available to me in response to other people’s prayers. What I need is unflinching confidence that God will make of each day a work of art—though its artistic quality may be abstruse—self-contained, yet fitting perfectly into the opulent design that becomes a week, a month, a year and a life. That’s the order I’m after.

Thank you for praying for us. The Lord bless you this week.

Introvert's Society

Board meeting of the Introvert's Society at our home yesterday.
Very little was said.

Bringing Together Worlds Apart

By any measure our week in the Algarve, Portugal’s Mediterranean sandbox, was a success. Everyone, including Debbie and Vitor, had a nice time. Drex snorkeled and bonded with Austin over Pokemon cards and shell collection. I swam in the sea each day. We got a dog, or, more precisely, got on the waiting list for a puppy from the next litter of a Portuguese Water Dog (motto: “The dog and the sea are one.” This is said to be the only breed of dog with webbed feet.) We bought a house.

The Portuguese Water Dog.
Drex was looking for a pet with whom he shares things in common.
Hairstyle, for example.
For more trip photos click http://www.flickr.com/photos/vitor-austin

Some people read books when they go on vacation. Some people play cards. Some people sleep. Debbie does all those things, but she also looks at real estate ads. Its her way of getting oriented. That’s nothing new. What was different on this trip was that she had Vitor to make her telephone calls. It is presumed that a Portuguese voice, as opposed to a foreign one, lowers the price of real estate here 5 - 10%. So along with family outings to the nature preserve and water park, there were family outings, led capably by Vitor, to look at houses. We hadn’t looked long before the wedding money in Vitor and Austin’s pocket began burning a hole. VisitingPortugal had been thinking about adding another property for some time in hopes of coming closer to providing a living for its proprietors. Offering our clients an alternative outside Lisbon was one strategy that had been discussed. Ilha da Armona, or Armona Island, where Casa Armona is situated, is three hours from Lisbon, a bit further than we might have expected, but the Algarve is arguably the most logical place for people to stay who are also spending time in Lisbon. Partnership with Austin and Vitor was also a huge part of the appeal. I don’t know what it is about my family and remote islands accessible only by ferry where motorized vehicles are not permitted—my parents live on Mackinac Island, Michigan—but apparently it’s contagious. Please pray that God would glorify Himself through VisitingPortugal and everything it touches.

For the August 2006 Habitat for Humanity Global Village trip I hope to lead to Mozambique we have tentatively chosen the theme, “Bringing Together Worlds Apart.” One of our goals is to raise money for at least four trip scholarships, two for young people from America and two for young people from Portugal. It is hoped that, from each of those pairs, one scholarship would go to a writer and the other to a visual artist. Their writing and art in response to the trip would be one benefit we offer our supporters. What usually happens with Global Village is that participants are older people with considerable disposable income. Nothing wrong with that. Homes get built for families in need and people are touched by the gospel of Jesus Christ. But a Global Village trip can be an especially powerful, formative experience for a young person, and if that young person happens to be an artist or a writer, skilled at conveying something of an experience to others, all of us might be richly blessed. Of course, for anything of value to come from all this God must bring it to fruition. Will you pray with me that He does so?

Thank you for your prayers. The Lord bless you this week.

We are not a beach

If Drex’s transfer from school in Braga to school in Lisbon had gone smoothly, it just would not have seemed like Portugal to us. True to form, “Não é possível,” for Drex to go to his neighborhood school, even though we’ve jumped through all the right hoops. But we aren’t rookies at Portuguese bureaucracy any more, so we’ve dutifully, cheerfully, prayerfully run all over town trying to discover the place God has for Drex in the fall. We’ve ended up where we began, at the neighborhood school, where, ironically, we met the one administrator who has not been helpful, sympathetic and encouraging. She may not be happy when she finds Drex’s paperwork back in her inbox but, again ironically, she was the one who marked out for us the path that brought us back to her door. Officially it remains impossible for Drex to go there. The school is temporarily being housed in a converted bank while its regular building is remodeled and students are already “on top of one another.” Thankfully, all things are possible with God. Thank you for your ongoing prayers.

People who have been following our news from Portugal for a while will be acquainted with the story of our first visit to church in Braga, in the summer of 2000, while we were in town volunteering with Habitat for Humanity: We went to the church of then-president of Habitat, Silas Pego. His son, Jónatas, greeted us exuberantly at the door in perfect English, having grown up in Iowa. Jónatas is now Austin’s brother-in-law; Austin is the aunt of Silas’s grandchildren. But another striking thing happened that first Sunday in Braga, another little manifestation of God’s love and care for us. Visiting Jónatas and his wife, Carla, that weekend from Lisbon were their friends, Canadian Ron Fairbanks, his Portguese wife, Idália, and their four children, Hannah, Tamara, Jason and Joel. Tamara was the first person his age Drex had seen in over a month who spoke English. While their parents talked, the four-year-olds got acquainted, and as the conversation drew to a close, the tiny figures of Drex and Tamara, walking hand in hand, could be seen silhouetted against the light at the other end of a pedestrian underpass. It is one of my most precious images of that summer. The Fairbanks had never been to Braga before and have never returned. Now it appears as if the answer to your prayers that God would show us where we ought to go to church in Lisbon may be Tamara’s. Debbie and I met with the pastor, Paulo Cheveiro, last week and he said a lot of things that made us think we might get along nicely. The church strategy for growth is through small groups. Pastor Cheveiro does a daily radio show based upon sermons of old-time Southern pastor J. Vernon McGee, one of Debbie’s dad’s favorite radio pastors, of whom Debbie does a passable imitation. Tamara has grown into a lovely young lady with blue lagoon eyes. Neither she nor Drex has any recollection of their meeting in Braga. All of us will be starting fresh.

If you needed Debbie and you heard she was on vacation you would probably want to look in the more remote corners of the Iberian peninsula. Nontouristy places the guidebooks recommend for long walks or historic esoterica. If you saw crowds you would know you could look elsewhere. Beaches would be out; what’s a beach but sun that burns you, wind that makes you cold, water that makes you wet and the invasion of your personal spaces by sand and inappropriately dressed persons, neither of which will go away? Why would anyone go to a beach? Love. The Algarve, Portugal’s Mediterranean coast, is the one part of Portugal Drex has not visited. He loves the beach. He wants to go. Coincidentally, so do the other 9,999,999 inhabitants of Portugal, even though they were all there last summer. Each August Portugal takes a group photograph with everyone arrayed along that sandy strip. Lisbon is empty, except for a few Spaniards who are also forced from their homes by custom in August. So for the next seven days, by the grace of God, Debbie will be looking on the bright side: sleeping late, quality time with her loving family, no food preparation responsibilities. Austin and Vitor are coming along, though not without some trepidation. Just as Debbie came from a quiet, nonverbal family culture twenty-three years ago and married into the Kleber Family Circus, so Vitor has heretofore led a peaceful life. But we are not strangers to introversion. We can handle this. We know how to respect people’s personal space, even when it is more ample than average. We are not a beach. Please pray everyone has a nice time.

Thank you very much for loving us and praying for us. Boas ferias (Have a nice vacation). The Lord bless you this week.

Nut House

On the 29^th of June I was close to despair. I had been running around Braga for weeks tying up loose ends and now I faced the thorough cleaning of our house, which during those same weeks had become one giant dust dragon. I was already sleep-deprived and it looked like miles to go before I would sleep again. Up walked Saulo, a friend. Saulo is an unlikely hero. His is a complicated life. He is a Christian, but he refers to most of what goes on in church as “merda,” which is an impolite reference to something you hope not to find on the bottom of your shoes. He and I had been getting together for lunch about once a week for candid, enthusiastic theological discussion. He asked if I’d like him to help clean. We started at 4:30 p.m. Just having him there gave me courage and strength. We attacked the job. At 7:30 I had to go to a meeting. Saulo went home to eat, unbelievably asking me to pick him up on my way back. We resumed work at 9:30, cleaned until 2:30 the following morning, then collapsed on camping mats in the garage. On the 30^th I was close to despair again. I limped into Lisbon about 11 p.m. with a truck nearly full with the last of our household belongings. When Debbie saw I had met our extremely colorful, extremely talkative new neighbor Fernando Girão (www.fernandogirao.com) in the corridor, she gave up on me and went to bed. When Fernando and I finished getting acquainted I sat down in the dark and wondered how I was going to get all our junk inside. Up walked Hilário. “If you give me a little money I’ll help you.” He did. He attacked the job. Just having him there gave me courage and strength, but Hilário still ran circles around me. He lives on the street, he explained. He’s a drug addict. “Jesus Christ wants to give you the power you need to overcome your addiction,” I explained. We prayed together. I haven’t seen him since, though I’ve been looking. Thank God He sent me Saulo and Hilário to deliver me from my despair and that He loves to use weak and broken people, like us, to show Himself strong.

Our new apartment is near the Lisbon city center on Rua do Telhal, so we call our home Telhal. Literally, a telhal is a factory that makes telhas, those picturesque Portuguese terra cotta roof tiles. But in popular parlance a telha is a craze or mania and so, by extension, a Telhal is a nut house. And yet, sanity is being restored. The river of our lives has begun to carve its watercourse in our new home and community. Backwaters remain, rooms where debris accumulates, boxes of unseasonable items that will be dealt with in time. But our priorities are intact: the day after I arrived I realized a twenty-three-year-old domestic dream: I bolted a basketball hoop ten feet up the thirty-five foot concrete sheer wall that forms our south border and casts an alleviating shadow over our ample terrace.

Drex prepares for the 2016 Portuguese Olympic basketball team.

The thumping of the ball on the tile, the frisking of the palms in the sea breeze and the circling of the swallows in the sun overhead give the place a festive holiday feel.

We’re still praying about where we’ll go to church. As an outreach of whatever church becomes ours I’d like to organize a place where people would be confronted from the moment they arrive by the intimacy we have in Christ Jesus. Intimacy—with God and with one another—is the best thing we’ve got going. People, who live in an increasingly superficial world, crave it. It’s what leads people to Christ. And yet most of our church services are extremely superficial. I don’t think it needs to be so. Imagine a group of maybe ten to forty people who divide their time together between 1) simple music worship, 2) prayer and 3) public reading and discussion of the Bible. Afterwards, they share a simple meal. Rather than expecting a small number of people to contribute all content, everyone would be expected to share from their experience and giftedness.[1] Rather than what we have come to think of as preaching, different people would take turns facilitating discussion of Biblical texts.[2] When the group grows to where genuine intimacy is unsustainable, they divide. This creates a constant need for leaders and a culture of gift and leadership development. When a person arrives they are confronted by a group of people who are genuinely interested in them and in their spiritual well-being. “Who are you?” “What are your gifts?” “How can we pray for you?” “How can we serve you?” “What responsibilities are you prepared to assume?” People cannot resist this sort of attention, when it is animated by the Spirit of the Living God. What I’m imagining owes much to the New Testament, much to home or cell groups like our Seattle Soup Group and much to Alcoholic’s Anonymous, just to name a few sources. Quakerism, to name another. It’s nothing new. The group is constantly refreshed because it is constantly partaking of the Holy Spirit manifested through not a few but many brothers and sisters. I’d particularly like to target our neighborhood’s numerous drug addicts. Obviously, God will decide whether any of this comes to fruition. Please pray that His will would be done.

Sam Azevedo is a nine-year-old from Oregon who has spent most of his life in Portugal. Drex is a nine-year-old from Washington who has spent most of his life in Portugal, too. Both their lives have been pretty tumultuous lately. They’ve been ministering to one another. Sam spent a couple of days at our house this week amidst our unpacking and the boys’ happy chatter was music to all present. Also this week, Debbie and Drex visited the school we hope he’ll attend in the fall. They were told there is no room. Now we’ll pray that God makes room and that He indicates to us what we can do to facilitate the making of that room without being too obnoxious. Won’t you pray along with us?

God bless you for praying for us this week. Thank you very much.

---

[1] “When you come together, everyone has a hymn, or a word of instruction, a revelation, a tongue or an interpretation. All of these must be done for the strengthening of the church.” 1 Corinthians 14:26.

[2] “Let two or three prophets announce the Word of God and the others give their opinion about what has been said.” 1 Corinthians 14:29. Who is a prophet? One who speaks the Word of God. How is the Word of God spoken nowadays? Predominately , it is read.

Rio de Janeiro Comes to Lisbon

Last Friday June 10th, Portugal Day, our family was here in Braga, but at Carcavelos, the Lisbon-area beach where Drex and I are learning to surf and where I had hoped to spend time every week escaping claustrophobia urbana, about 500 local at-risk youths like those we serve at Crista da Onda forsook their at-risk status, turned professional, and demonstrated exactly what they are at-risk for.

They conducted what is known on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro as an "arrastão," heretofore unknown in Portugal, which sounds like but is the opposite of being arrested. It means running amuck relieving bathers of anything one can lay one’s hands on and attacking anyone who offers resistance. As surprised police moved in to allay the chaos, the youths took their mayhem onto the trains and into surrounding neighborhoods. Four of them were taken into custody. Three bathers and two police officers were injured.

This may mean we need to rethink our claustrophobia urbana strategy. Please pray that Lisbon comes up with other creative ways to deal with its at-risk youth, in addition to Crista da Onda.

What's a couple to do?

If you've been following the news from here for a while now, you may remember Alvaro Azevedo, former construction assistant at Habitat for Humanity. He and his wife, Conceição, care for seven foster children and pray for children of their own. Here they are with six of the seven:

L-R: Hugo, Esperança, Paulo, Bruno, Conceição,
Armanda, Alvaro and Gabriel, out in front of our
house, which may become their house soon.

Now there's a chance Alvaro and Ção may be able to adopt Armanda, who they have cared for the last two years. But if they do adopt her they must give up the other children, the state says. If they don't adopt her they may lose her and they don't want to risk that. They are asking God for a miracle. They want to adopt Armanda and continue to care for the other children as well. Would you kindly pray with them?

Holding On

Sorry I haven’t been around lately. I miss meeting you here, but we’re in moving mode and it hasn’t left time to write. I feel as if we’re living in a centrifuge, spinning all over Portugal, flying around being separated into our component parts, trying desperately to maintain hold of our Center, who is the Lord Jesus Christ. “My soul clings to You, o God; Your right hand upholds me.” (Psalm 63:8).

Thank you for praying that Drex and I would get along without Debbie’s mitigating presence while she works in Lisbon on VisitingPortugal.com stuff. God has been giving me extra patience lately (a lovely feeling) and Drex and I have been having a nice time. But please don’t stop praying. As is required of nine-year-olds, Drex is manifesting his individuality and independence more and more and it will only be by God’s grace that we find that balance between latitude and limit ideally suited to him and to the new adventures each day brings. Because I felt it a cultural necessity for our children to be familiar with it, Debbie got me a copy of the original Rocky film for my birthday (which isn’t until September) and I accidentally opened it in her absence. Drex and I have watched it several times. (It is so quaint.) We’ve agreed to run together up the steps of the Philadelphia Institute of Art some day and bounce with our arms aloft. Drex bought a punching bag and has entered into training. Please pray his interest in boxing remains mild.

Please ask God to give us discernment about involvements in Lisbon. There are lots of things we might do. Obviously, VisitingPortugal will take up a portion of our time, but it is not clear how much. Nor do we know whether Crista da Onda (Crest of the Wave), the ministry to at-risk adolescents with which we are already involved, will get a little of our time or a lot. I hope to continue to be involved with Habitat for Humanity and dream of leading two Habitat Global Village teams per year to Portuguese-speaking countries like Angola, Mozambique and Brazil. I intend to write. There are lots of other possibilities, too. We expect God will clarify to what He would have us hold on and what He would have us let go.

Thanks very much for holding on to us and praying for us. Every spiritual blessing to you in Christ Jesus.

"Do you live here or don't you?"

Well, a new chapter in our lives has begun. We’re innkeepers now. Only our inn is spread out over about twelve very undulating city blocks. There’s nowhere to park, so forget driving. Maybe we’ll get roller skates or skateboards. Then our neighbors would think us even stranger than they think us now, if that were possible. They do not understand at all what we are doing. Debbie tried explaining to two charming elderly sisters who live across the narrow street from Casas Travessa and Santana and it only frightened them. “So, do you live here or don’t you?” one asked. All they see is us walking around the neighborhood carrying all manner of household items and tools, coming and going from different buildings, picking up garbage and dog poop all over the place. I plan to get housepaint in various colors to match our neighbor’s houses so I can paint over the graffiti our guests must pass when they arrive. We’re wackos! We spent last weekend trundling about. Debbie’s been at this for weeks but it was my first taste of real action. All three places were full. There was a late Saturday checkin and an early Sunday checkout and a late Sunday checkin. Drex went to church with Austin and Vitor while Debbie and I worked. We love Sabbath-keeping, but we call this having our “ox in the ditch.”[1] Please pray we can keep our ox at liberty by scheduling checkins and checkouts on Saturdays.

One evening last week as I prepared dinner, Drex excavated in the back yard. He came across some worms. The discovery triggered a reaction in his brain and he asked if we could go fishing. He had not wanted to fish for almost a year, having lost patience with Portugal’s reticent trout. During this season of estrangement, when the boys at church have clamored for us to take them fishing as we have in the past, Drex has been unmoved. I didn’t want this smoldering reed of enthusiasm extinguished, but it was a school night, time for dinner, bath and bed. I knew the gear was a tangled mess. I asked Drex to give me a few minutes to think about it. During those few minutes, the Holy Spirit reminded me of the sort of childhood I’d like Drex to have; the things I’d like to come into his mind when he is old and looks back. I bundled up the tangled mess and off we went. We were on the Rio Cavado in eleven minutes. We fished about an hour, until dark. Drex, finally forsaking the instructions of his father which had availed him nothing, imitated the Portuguese who dangle their worms in the shallows for fingerlings and caught one. I didn't catch anything, but the winsome river and the clouds like great divine pastries baked by the setting sun to a brilliant orange pink beneath and set on a table of ice blue, made me wonder how I had stayed away so long. We fried Drex's fish for breakfast the following morning and he ate it in one bite, with exceeding relish. The next evening he caught three more. Maybe when we move to Lisbon and find all the good fishing spots around there we’ll include guided fishing trips on the list of VisitingPortugal.com amenities. Drex likes the idea of being a guide.

Please pray for thirteen-year-old Angelo. He used to be one of our most regular artists at Vivarte. He came almost every day to practice guitar, among other things. Lately he’s been in a slide, though, and we’ve seen less of him. His schoolwork has completely crashed. I think a big part of the problem may be his dad’s recent release from prison and subsequent reentrance into his life. His dad bought him new Nikes and a new cell phone, but they don’t seem to have given him either surer footing or improved communication. Angelo is off balance. His mom seems to be trying to control him, which only hardens his resolve to be free of her. Today he asked me if we could make a chair for his room. At Vivarte, we make a nice chair out of garbage. That is, from wood taken from pallets thrown out by the home and garden store. I jumped at the chance to make one with Angelo. When it comes to helping kids with their projects, I subscribe to a theory from Jeff VanVonderen’s book, Families Where Grace is in Place. He says the object of the game is to bring just enough of our own power to bear so the kids can succeed. I knew Angelo would need plenty of auxiliary power. He lasted about fifteen minutes before drifting away to a guitar. I figured if pressed he’d abandon the chair, so I finished cutting out the pieces myself. “Tomorrow we’ll put your chair together,” I said. Please ask God to put Angelo’s life together. His eleven-year-old sister, Cata, a joy who loves baseball, could use your prayers, too.

Thank you for praying with us and for us. In heaven you’ll see the effect of all this praying and it will be immeasurably beyond your imagining. Blessed week to you.

---

[1] Luke 14:5

Caught in a Vortex

One of the questions I had when I came to Portugal was whether it would be possible to have fellowship with Catholics as we have had in the United States; to leave aside, for the most part, our doctrinal differences, talk candidly about spiritual matters, pray together and encourage one another’s faith. The answer is yes. The early-morning peripatetic men’s group I’ve asked you to pray for has been having a spectacular time doing those very things. Each morning we read and discuss a verse or two from the Bible printed in Portuguese and English. They help me with the Portuguese. I help them with the English. Our most enthusiastic member, Senhor Araujo, says his life has changed completely as result of our discussions and prayers. He says he sometimes prays spontaneously with his family at home now, much to their surprise. He may be in the process of being born again. Please pray it would be so. Please also pray for the continuation of the group after my departure for Lisbon at the end of June. Finally, pray I can get another similar group started in Lisbon. By walking together and staying away from church we not only get good exercise, we avoid a lot of unnecessary conflict.

It looks as if this house may be turned into a foster home for kids under the care of the Bomfim Foundation, the foundation affiliated with our church, the same foundation that operates Vivarte. Our landlords met here today with Anabela Pereira, the Executive Director of Bomfim and my co-Sunday school teacher, and Carla Pego, Austin’s sister-in-law and the person responsible for the operations of the foster homes. Everyone was very enthusiastic. The next step is to get the house approved by the authorities and make a few minor modifications. The foster home that may move here might be that of Alvaro Azevedo, former Habitat for Humanity construction assistant, and his wife, who care for seven foster children who often play in the street where they live now. What a blessing it would be for them to have this big back yard and the neighborhood soccer court a stone’s throw away.

Please pray for Drex. When one is accustomed to the clever, delicately balanced repartee of a household such as our own, having one parent 366 kilometers away can be disorienting. Translation: He's tired of his father harping at him all the time. "Are you having bad days, Dad? You seem angry," he said this evening. And I thought I was doing great today! I was Mr. Patient! I was feeling real spiritual. What must he have been thinking last week when I was dragging a little? Maybe Drex isn't the only one for whom you should be praying. Whether it is a manifestation of these stresses or deeper relational issues between him and his teacher, Drex is finding it difficult to face his professora day after day. He says she criticizes him. Here, Drex is caught in a vortex. At home, he receives the standard American lavish positive reinforcement treatment. About the harshest criticism he hears for anything other than deliberate disobedience is, “Good try!” But positive reinforcement has not yet arrived in Portugal. When a math problem is incorrect, it is “bad.” When a tree is not green, or a sun is not yellow, they are bad, too. What is a nine-year-old to think? One good thing that has already come of the conflict is that it has made Drex more a man of prayer. Please pray he would be increasingly so and that God would transform his relationship with his teacher.

God bless you and keep you and make His face to shine upon you this week. Thank you very much for your prayers.

A Duck

A duck is just an idea

so powerful

it exerts a specific gravitational force,

bringing matter together

in a ducky way.

Same with that chair,

the world,

you.

If God stopped thinking of you

for a moment

you’d blow apart

into a bijillion pieces.

Roosters for Seagulls

I’m writing from the living room corner of Casa Santana, one of the two new apartments now available at VisitingPortugal.com. Spread beneath the window before me is the Rossio, which is literally the “Boardwalk” of the Portuguese version of Monopoly you may play when you stay here. In the night distance the black Tagus flows between a string of lights on its far shore and the illuminated triumphal arch, the gateway to Lisbon, in the Praça do Comércio, on its near shore. If I want to know the time I turn and look out the window to my right at the clock atop the late 19th century Moorish inspired Rossio train station.


Moon set over the Rossio station.
Find the clock.

Debbie has done another spectacular job doing everything to get these places on the map. Her decorating is charming, her negotiating culturally-sensitive yet ever-so-slightly hard-nosed. Of all the days she’s spent shopping one stood out. As she recounted the way she felt born along and directed by the Holy Spirit that day she caught herself and issued the old disclaimer one hears applied to little choices everywhere: “As if God cares about my shopping.” “As if God cares about what tie/dress I wear,” is its simplest form, but the idea grows like a B movie monster, until you hear Christians saying things like “As if God cares about what house I buy,” or “which job I choose.” Let’s settle this thing once and for all right now. Bring to mind a friend who loves you and loves to be with you. Imagine their delight when you find something really cute for your house, or the pleasure they take when you look really great. And not just really great, but really great for the occasion at hand. Not just any tie will do. This friend knows who else will be at the meeting and doesn’t want you reminding him of the tie he threw up on at his senior prom or the way his old boss used to dress. This friend delights in you. “You are IT!” this friend says when you’ve made up your mind. God cares more. You are the apple of His eye.

They took some getting used to, but one thing I’ll miss when we leave Braga is the roosters. We probably have at least half a dozen roosters within shouting distance of our house, including three or four living next door in different directions. Depending on the time of year they pretty reliably begin announcing the day between 3 and 4 a.m. I wear earplugs to take the edge off but I have become genuinely fond of their cacophonous accompaniment to my dreams. It has come to represent northern Portugal for me, which is fitting, since one of their number from a nearby town called Barcelos, rose from the dead many years ago to prove the innocence of a falsely accused man and thereby became the symbol of the region for everyone else. I’ll be trading in the Barcelos roosters for Lisbon’s seagulls, which are symbolic of plenty themselves. Their ancestors tricked about the rigging of Vasco de Gama and Ferdinand Magellan. Friends of theirs frequent Seattle. The roosters are rural and agrarian and quaint. The gulls are of the wind and the open ocean and all the places around its perimeter. I will miss the roosters, but it’s a trade I’m happy to make.

Casa Santana and Casa Travessa are within 10 meters of one another. Casa Joaquina is 500 meters uphill to the north. Walking between them half a dozen times yesterday, your VisitingPortugal.com handyman began to feel a camaraderie with the other working people of the neighbourhood; hoteliers, restaurateurs, grocers. In the years to come I hope to get to know these people and share the love of God with them. We all need it. Pleas pray it would be so.

Living with Behçet’s disease is like living in Kansas. When clouds begin to gather on the horizon you can’t help wondering whether they’ll blow over and be nothing or boil up into a twister. Both Austin and Drex have little health clouds right now. Please ask God to make them completely well.

Thank you for praying for us. The Lord bless you this week.

Stand We Will

Please pray for our family. We are a house divided. I know I mentioned in a previous Prayer and Praise Update that Debbie would be spending a lot of time in Lisbon taking care of VisitingPortugal.com business, but knowing it was coming doesn’t make it less disorienting for everyone. Debbie has been in Braga about twenty-four hours during the last two weeks. Drex seems to be holding up O.K. under the erosive effects of instability. Pray we all find our stability in Christ. Drex and I plan to drive to Lisbon with a load of furniture right after school today and stay until Sunday afternoon, which will afford us the rare opportunity of being in church together as a family, albeit an unfamiliar church. While you're praying for us, would you also ask God to direct us in choosing a Lisbon church home?
Thanks for hanging in there with us and praying for us. The Lord bless you this week.

A Wedding Story

I’d like to tell you a story that sounds like a fairy tale, but is not a fairy tale. In fairy tales things happen by magic. In this story things happen by the power of God.

What do we call it when something happens by the power of God? We don’t call it magic. What word do we use? It’s another “m” word. That’s right, miracle. We call it a miracle.

In this story a miracle happens. But miracles can be easy to miss, so you need to pay close attention to see if you can find the miracle. Here’s the story:

Once upon a time a young peasant girl watched over her grandparents’ sheep.

Here are the sheep. Here is a common wayside flower and some very small rocks.

As she watched the sheep and explored the woods and listened to her Aunt’s stories and read hundreds of articles mailed to her by her other grandparents and went about the business of being a modern young peasant girl, God spoke to her. God said, “You must leave your home and follow Me. If you do, I will bless you and keep you; I will make My face shine upon you, and I will be gracious to you; I will lift up My countenance upon you, and give you peace.”[1]

That seemed like a good deal to her, so she sold bread to raise money for her trip, mounted her noble horse Falada, and set out.

Here she is on her noble horse, Falada. You can see she is wearing armor and carrying a banner, because she was always very theatrical. The armor happens to be made of paper, but that’s another story.

God was unclear about exactly what she was supposed to do after leaving home. She interpreted that to mean she should do something unclear, so she decided to study economics.

At the same time, in a land far away, there lived a king. His was a small kingdom, but his subjects loved him because he cared for them and he was just.

Here are his subjects asking him questions. This one would like to know whether light is a particle or a wave. This one would like to know how to discover the will of God. This one would like to go to the restroom. The king will help them all. He was a good king.

From this picture, however, you may notice something interesting about the king. Can you see what it is? He doesn’t have a crown. Usually, kings have crowns. This king did not. That was O.K. with him, though. He knew he could be a good king without a crown. Sometimes the king’s friends would say, “Highness, you gotta getchoeseff a crown!” But he was content.

One day the young peasant girl, who had grown into a lovely young maiden, arrived in the kingdom. She had sold Falada to buy economics textbooks. Before she sold him, however, she discovered in his saddlebag a crown. She carried the crown in her backpack along with her books.

The king liked what he saw. He had never taken much interest in economics, but gradually he became more and more interested.

One day God said to the king, “I’d like to give you a crown.”

“Maybe a crown wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” said the king.

“I want to give you a crown,” repeated God, “but to receive this crown you must give up everything, even your very life, and become a servant, and wait upon Me.”

“I’d like to think that over,” said the king.

“Do you not know?” asked God. “Have you not heard? My judgments are unsearchable and My ways are beyond finding out.” [2]

The maiden placed the crown upon the king’s head.[3] In that instant both of them disappeared. Where they had been there appeared an eagle. The eagle spread his wings and cried for joy. Then he rose upon the wind that rolled beneath him and he was off. [4]

Did anyone notice the miracle? What happened at the end of the story? That’s right, the king and the maiden turned into an eagle and soared off into the sky.[5] Very good, you didn’t miss the miracle. Now I want you to pay close attention to everything else you see today, so you notice any other miracles as well.

[1] Numbers 6:24-26
[2] Isaiah 40:28, Romans 11:33
[3] An excellent wife is the crown of her husband. Proverbs 12:4.
[4] The Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins.
[5] The two shall become one. Matthew 19:5. Those who wait upon the Lord . . . will mount up with wings like eagles. Isaiah 40:31.