You Can't Imagine What it Means

I love how technology has enhanced communication.  Email, a virtual classroom, and an internet accessible database allowed me to work from home in California.  It was the best "outside the home" job I've ever had.  I loved it!  The kids used to ask me why I played on the computer so much.  I guess I was just "playing" and getting paid for it, too. 

Now this blog gives me the opportunity to publish magazine quality color print without a huge printer, paper, and postage.  I still remember the cut and paste newspaper days in college.  What an improvement!

But there's something very special about holding an actual letter in my hand from one of you.  Thank you for sending Christmas cards and notes throughout the year.  Your tangible support is always timely and reminds us that we are simply an extension of our church family at home.  Those letters create a physical link between the U.S. and Uruguay that nothing in technology has been able to replicate. 

The packages with birthday gifts and candy are also amazing expressions of love.  Birthdays and holidays usually make us wonder what in the world we were thinking when we moved here.  We start to feel like we relocated to a different planet.  There's a reason why they're called "care packages"!

Please forgive me for my slowness in gratefully responding with pen and paper.  As much as I appreciate and enjoy the hand written word, my efforts to rummage up writing paper, a pen that works, an envelope, correct postage, and a place to mail the letter all feel as clumsy and time consuming as getting out a horse and wagon to go into town. 

 

In Uruguay, some people still use a horse and wagon to take a trip into town.

When I worked in California, my job required a 24 hr response time to emails and phone calls.  I still try to follow that policy in my personal correspondence, but when it comes to snail mail, I'm slower than a snail!  I have no excuses, and I will try to improve. 

While you're waiting for an envelope to arrive with Uruguayan postage in the corner, you're welcome to shoot me an email or call our U.S. number (that gets rerouted to our phone here through the internet - of course).  If you call and we're not home, your message will be sent to my email inbox where I can listen to it.  And you should hear back from me within 24 hours!

Rivera: 8 Year Church Anniversary and Dedication Service






I (Mark) was privileged to preach at a dedication service for the new church building of Iglesia Presbiteriana Ortodoxa de Uruguay.  On the weekend of May 5, our family traveled the six hours by bus and car to Rivera, six hours north of Montevideo on the border of Brazil.  After we arrived, we enjoyed a lasagna dinner at the house of Pastor Gustavo Melo. 

 

Mark preaches at the church in Rivera

On Sunday, we worshipped at the new building.  It's beautiful!  Their youth group of nearly thirty teenagers helped purchase the church by collecting plastic bottles for months and then exchanging them for pesos.  

Once purchased, the volunteers doubled the length of the building until it could accommodate at least 130 people. 

 

The Richline kids are welcomed by the Rivera Youth

The service was packed with church members, people from their various preaching stations and several first-time visitors.  Throughout the night, the gospel was proclaimed in prayer, in song and through the sermon in a spirit of humbled thankfulness to the Lord Jesus Christ.  Please petition our God to continue to grow and mature this congregation in the knowledge of His Word.



Mark greets people before the service

Pastors Mark and Gustavo Melo cut the cake

Celebrating Marriage!!!

In a country where homosexual marriage was recently sanctioned by law, our church hosted a festive dinner to celebrate traditional marriage between a man and woman as designed by God for life. 

 

 

More than twenty couples attended, including several who we invited from the community.  After each couple took turns describing a meaningful memory from their married life, our speaker described God's design for marriage, encouraging us to keep building our relationships in ways centered on our Lord Jesus.  

 

 

 

We finished the evening with a delicious stroganoff dinner served by our young people.  Please seek the Lord to use His Word to save unbelievers who attended as well as to sanctify our marriages.  ~Mark

Foam Flowers for the Moms; Teamwork is essential in church planting

Cleaning the Church on Saturday

"We need to make more flowers," Sandra told me after I greeted her with a cheek kiss.  It's Sunday morning at IPU, and it's Mother's Day. 

The high school youth group will sing a special song and then the younger children will give their mothers the foam flowers they made yesterday during Club Feliz.  There are a couple of extra ones for the mothers who don't have children attending the program, but Sandra did the math and figured we needed more.

So, I finish setting up the AV equipment in the sanctuary and sit down in the kitchen with Andrea to hold the cut out petals over a candle flame to soften them and shape them, freeing Pastor Rolim and Sandra to attend to other tasks.  (I don't mind working on a craft that requires an open flame)

Mark is making sure the music for worship is organized and Sabrina is getting out the piano music to rehearse with the youth group. Pastor Mauricio uploads a video presentation of the lyrics to project on the wall. Carlitos is making coffee and getting out the cups, napkins, sugar, punch and cookies.  While I make the flowers, I'm thinking about the Sunday School lesson I'll be teaching, and talking with Andrea about a misunderstanding with another local missionary team the day before.



Two women from the church, Joshua, and Sabrina
prepare stroganoff for a church event

Many of you know the demands of church planting.  Our core team is composed of six people, with only Pastor Rolim working full time.  (Mark will be soon dedicated to full time ministry when language training ends this fall).

We barely have enough people to rotate responsibilities so a list of tasks like setting up refreshments, teaching a children's ministry, washing church kitchen towels and throw rugs, playing guitar for worship, hosting an activity in one's home, and staffing the nursery could easily fall to just one person on the team over the weekend.  (I'm thinking about Sandra!).

We praise God that this team is growing with the addition of new families and young people who are working along side of us.  We have plenty of willing and able hands to help.  Our prayer is that in His timing, this church's leadership will be completely Uruguayan!

I am glad to contribute by teaching Sunday School, although I need to use all of the teaching tricks I know to supplement my limited Spanish.  This morning one of my very active students illustrated the lesson as I taught.  She is very perceptive and artistic so her sketches help me to know if I'm communicating well. It also keeps her mind, heart, and hands engaged. 

Recently I had a problem with a student who was giggling and talking during our opening prayer.  So this week we discussed the attributes of God before we closed our eyes and folded our hands. It worked!  Context was what the child needed instead of a reprimand.

Before I get out of bed on Sunday mornings, I pray for a servant's heart.  Praise God that I can walk into church and smile, ready to hold foam over a flame if that's what needs to be done!  The beautiful bouquet on the table near the pulpit looked wonderful.  What a great idea, Sandra!  After a long morning of ministry, Pastor Rolim locked the front doors and said, "The morning went really well."

Legos: time to unwind

"It's not exactly a robot," Mark explained, describing what he was making with the legos.  "It's a human transport robot.  It was in.... what was that movie about the planet with the big blue people?  They had big mechanical things that people were transported in." 

Yes, Mark is sitting on the floor with Julia and the boys, playing with legos. And he doesn't know I'm quoting him right now.

He deserves some time to unwind.  I was stressed out over teaching three pre-scripted children's lessons in Spanish.  Even the review questions were in Spanish!  But Mark just preached an hour long Spanish sermon today. 

He wrote two sermons in Spanish, asked the tutor to read through them, and then preached last week and today, filling in for Pastor Rolim who is on vacation.  He also led two youth group meetings in a study on the life of Jonah. 

A challege like this provides him with a reliable measure of how far he has come and how far he has to go.  I am grateful that he can lead a Bible Study and preach.  It's a confirmation that God has given him the abilities to communicate Biblical truths in both of these contexts. 

And yet we both have so far to go. We are looking forward to the day when we can relax in a conversation with a Uruguayan, culturally and linguistically, and communicate well. 

I remind myself that people don't always communicate well in their first language!  In the grocery store this week, an older gentleman asked a store employee a question about the fruit.  She asked him to repeat the question, but she still didn't understand him.  He replied with a smile, "I'm speaking clearly.  Why don't you understand me?"  She smiled, and they both tried a third time to understand one another.

Sometimes I want to say, "I'm speaking clearly.  Why don't you understand me?"  In my case, I'm not using the correct verb, I'm not accenting the right syllable, or I'm using a Costa Rican word. (i.e. beans are not "frijoles."  They're "porotos.")  Thankfully, my listener smiles (or laughs), and we try again.

Deus é Bom

The challenges of working on a cross cultural team, cross culturally, are mind boggling.  I must admit I felt a little disoriented when the group of 36 Brazilians streamed off the bus and wandered into our little church. 

Since only a few of them knew Spanish or English, I felt like I could do little more than smile to welcome them.  I was also a little uncertain how to greet someone from Brazil. 

Regardless of the obvious cultural awkwardness, I am thankful that God gave us a great weekend of ministry together. The group of families and singles, representing 2 churches in Brazil, traveled over 12 hrs by bus to get here. And they all had servant hearts.

They spent Sunday afternoon handing out tracts and invitations to the church. They also cooked enough food for everyone after morning worship. And two of the pastors preached during the church services.

They brought instruments as well as musical gifts and led music to give us a break.  We sang some of the songs together in Portuguese, and I marveled once again that one day people from every tongue and tribe will praise Him together with one voice.
Here's one of the songs we sang:  Tu és Bom

It's thrilling to see how God has grown the church in Brazil. These people are amazing testimonies. And their churches are faithfully supporting the mission work here. 

Thank you, dear brothers and sisters in Brazil for partnering with us.  I'll learn Portuguese next, I promise.

Scrambled Egg Ninja

I did not feel like an easy target.  I was walking home from the grocery store just three blocks from our house with grocery bags in each hand and a black leather purse strapped crosswise in front of me.  I was also taking a slightly different route than usual. 

At 4:30 in the afternoon the street was quiet and bright with sunlight. I saw at least two other people walking by on the cross street ahead.  Living in Costa Rica for a year taught me to be aware.  Always.   

As I was walking down the middle of the street to avoid some construction work, two men riding a motorcycle passed me on the right. Subconsciously I took note of them as I moved out of their way and stepped back onto the sidewalk. 

The sound of a motor has been a red flag ever since our orientation class at the Spanish Language Institute in Costa Rica.  The trainer explained that often men will use motorcycles to rob people. One will ride in the back and jump off to commit the robbery and then jump back on the bike with the stolen goods.  

After a year and a half in Latin America, this was the first time I heard a motorcycle turn around and head back up the street behind me.  At the approaching sound, I felt a heightened sense of danger.  I knew I was in trouble, and, without even thinking, I gripped the bags tighter and walked faster as adrenaline pumped through me. 

Strangely, despite a heightened sense of sight, I couldn’t hear as well.  I didn’t even hear him run up behind me.  The young man was suddenly in my face, both hands on my purse, yanking with all of his might to snap the leather straps.  I resisted and started swinging the bags in his face and over his head.  I screamed “no” as he yanked hard a second and third time.   

I kept hitting him in the face with the bags, screaming, until he finally gave up and ran off in front of me where his partner was waiting on the motorcycle.  I yelled, in Spanish, to an older gentleman across the street to get the number of the plate since he was closer.  But he just stared at me!   

The rider in the back looked over his shoulder at me as I pointed at him accusingly, chastising him without malice.  They turned the corner and were gone. 

At times I regret that I didn’t drop the grocery bags immediately and execute an awesome, painful, self defense move…  Something I could brag about.   

But I only created an inglorious, “old lady” smokescreen of blinding plastic bags and ear piercing screams.  I humbly give God the credit for multiplying the effectiveness of my weak efforts.  

The trainer at the Institute encouraged us to resist thieves if possible.  And since both of the man’s hands were yanking on the purse, and not wielding a gun or knife, I acted in self defense without a second thought.  I wonder if the “fight” instead of “flight” response is something that had been growing in me over the last year of pounding the pavement. 

Intentionally, I travel light.  My purse contained a cheap cell phone, change from my recent transaction, hand sanitizer, and a Uruguay ID card, but I acted like I was defending my life’s savings. I think I was fighting against the injustice of it all. I was really angry.  I was fighting for every person’s right to walk home undisturbed. 

This all happened only two blocks from our house, but some friendly neighbors and bystanders were there to make sure I was OK and help me make a report to the police. The neighbor who used my cell phone to call the police for me thought it was funny that I scrambled all but four of the 15 eggs I had just bought. They dripped through the grocery bag, leaving a trail on her kitchen floor and making her toes stick to her flip flops.  But she chuckled as she lit a cigarette.   

Back at the house, Julia put the groceries away and wondered at the dented can, smashed up dish soap, and mutilated butter.  After hearing the story, she rewrote it in her journal and illustrated a few of the scenes.  The details were exact.  It saddens me that my children are living this gritty lifestyle, too, but I know God is giving them the strength to persevere.  

 

Just this afternoon, Julia and Isaiah witnessed a similar occurence in front of our house, but this time, the men knocked the woman to the ground and stole her purse.  I believe that living in such close proximity to a shopping area is part of the problem.

Today I read from Mark 4 & 5 and found that Jesus often told people, including his own disciples, not to fear and to just believe in Him. I do believe if God wants us to minister here, then he will provide for us.  Therefore, I am not afraid.    

It really is that simple.   

Jesus’ disciples were afraid of the storm that was about to capsize their boat, they panicked, and they woke their Master.  But these seasoned fishermen were even more terrified after Jesus calmed the waves and wind with the words, “Be still.”  His power was stranger and more terrible than the storm itself.  (Mark 4:35-41) 

I fear God, and I have a reverent fear of His power.  And as long as I am walking in His will, I am at peace.  The violent storms around us pale in comparison.  It is well with my soul.