Capítulo 1: Na Escuridão com a Direção Divina

por Clenildo Campos

Obs.: Alguns nomes foram alterados, mas a história permanece verdadeira.

Na Escuridão

Às três da madrugada, no dia 7 de março de 2025, o barco do pastor Clenildo cortava as águas cobertas de névoa do rio Xingu. Eles seguiam rumo a um território inexplorado — lugares onde ninguém jamais havia anunciado o Evangelho.

O vento gelado trouxe à memória as pescarias da infância com seu pai, que sempre orava: “Senhor, onde vamos encontrar peixe hoje?”

Quando entraram no estreito rio Ademir, a escuridão os envolveu por completo. Por alguns instantes, deu frio na espinha; parecia que estavam perdidos em um vazio impenetrável. Então Clenildo reagiu como de costume: de olhos focados pra frente e orando. “Espírito Santo, mostra-nos o caminho.”

E Ele mostrou — orientação clara e inconfundível em meio à noite.

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A Selva Desperta

O facho da lanterna iluminava as margens, revelando dezenas de jacarés com os olhos vermelhos, como rubis.

Então amanheceu. A selva despertou — bandos de garças brancas erguiam-se no céu, asas cintilando à primeira luz do dia. Até as aves pareciam guiar o caminho, voando sempre à frente do barco por até vinte minutos de cada vez.

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Sol e Portas Abertas

Às sete da manhã chegaram ao rio Iuiui. A névoa se dissipava, dando lugar a raios dourados que atravessavam o dossel da floresta.

O olhar deles vasculhava as margens em busca de casas. E a cada uma que aparecia, faziam uma oração — pela família que vivia ali, pela direção do Espírito e para que corações já preparados se abrissem ao amor de Deus.

Aquilo não era apenas uma viagem missionária.

Era uma expedição ao coração do amor de Deus pelos esquecidos — conduzida pelo mesmo Espírito que um dia guiou Filipe até o eunuco etíope em uma estrada do deserto.

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Capítulo 2: Providência Numa Panela de Queijo

O Presente Que Mudou Nossa Direção

Três horas rio acima, no Louie, duas águas se abriram diante da equipe do pastor Clenildo, como um ponto de interrogação traçado sobre as águas. Qual caminho seguir? Eles escolheram a bifurcação à direita — e só depois descobriram que era o caminho errado.

No fim daquele braço, encontraram um rancho de búfalos movimentado. No centro, uma enorme panela fumegava, onde as coalhadas subiam e desciam como nuvens brancas no céu. O dono explicou que todo o queijo já estava vendido, mas então parou, sorriu e disse: “Tragam um recipiente e eu lhes darei um pouco deste novo lote.”

Enquanto despejava a coalhada cremosa, perguntou por que haviam vindo.
“Estamos aqui para evangelizar”, responderam. “Começando pelo último homem do rio Guadaná.”

O rosto do fazendeiro se suavizou: “Na volta, venham me evangelizar também. Eu quero isso. E, a propósito, vocês pegaram a bifurcação errada. O Guadaná fica no outro lado.”

Eles partiram com quatro quilos de queijo, direção clara e a certeza de que até os erros podem se tornar encontros divinos.

Às vezes a providência de Deus parece um desvio. Às vezes a provisão d’Ele vem numa panela de queijo. E às vezes a própria pessoa que corrige o nosso rumo se torna parte da missão

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Capítulo 3: Tempestades e Fé Inabalável

Quando o Trovão se Torna Adoração
Depois de viajar o dia inteiro pelo rio, ao cair da tarde, a equipe do Pastor Clenildo parou diante de uma casa simples. Descobriram que o dono se chamava Isaac. Esse desconhecido os recebeu de braços abertos, mostrando três casas onde poderiam passar a noite, uma à beira do rio, outra no campo e outra em terreno mais alto.

Embora Isaac tivesse oferecido abrigo, no início ficou desconfiado da mensagem dos visitantes. Mas, depois de um tempo de conversa, revelou que já era irmão em Cristo.

Naquela noite, o céu se abriu em fúria. Uma tempestade violenta caiu sobre a região com cortinas de chuva, ventos uivantes e relâmpagos que transformavam a noite em dia. As paredes finas de madeira tremiam como folhas ao vento. Nuvens de mosquitos invadiram o ambiente. Três vezes, Clenildo precisou sair no temporal, apenas com uma lanterna na cabeça, para tirar água do barco, evitando que afundasse.

O trovão ribombava. Os relâmpagos rasgavam o céu. A cada ida para fora, encharcado até os ossos em segundos, ele ficava atento a possíveis cobras agitadas pela enchente. Foi uma noite longa, miserável, que testou cada gota de fé e resistência. Mas, em meio a tudo, o Senhor os sustentou.

Pela manhã, reencontraram os companheiros que haviam dormido na casa do campo. Eles lutaram muito tempo para acender uma fogueira com lenha molhada. Finalmente, o Pastor Wagner conseguiu secar alguns gravetos, acender o fogo e preparar panquecas com café. Esse simples ato de serviço tocou profundamente o coração de Isaac.

“Eu nunca vi pastores servirem assim”, ele confessou admirado. “Lá de onde venho, os pastores não servem. Eles esperam ser servidos.” Seu coração se abriu por completo. Às vezes, Deus não manda tempestades para nos parar, mas para revelar o Seu caráter por meio de nós.

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Capítulo 4: A Última Casa no Fim do Mundo

O pastor Clenildo e uma pequena equipe subiram de motor por um trecho desconhecido do rio Guadaná. A cada curva, o combustível queimava e a selva se fechava. Em cada casa, a mesma frase: “A última casa está a uma hora daqui.”

Sete horas depois — famintos e cansados — chegaram a uma palafita simples. O dono, Raimundo, os recebeu com guisado de capivara e disse: “Compartilhem comigo também as Boas Novas.” Ele ouviu como quem encontra pão em meio à fome, e depois se ofereceu para guiá-los mais adiante.

No fim do dia, chegaram ao barraco de Mário, de 75 anos, sozinho desde 1975. Quando viu os visitantes, chorou: “Ninguém vem me visitar.” Nunca tinha ouvido o evangelho. Ali, sentado entre cipós e tábuas envelhecidas, fez perguntas rápidas, como o etíope diante de Filipe. E ali, na última casa do Guadaná, um homem esquecido creu. O céu se alegrou.

A obra missionária sempre custa mais do que pensamos e nos leva mais longe do que planejamos. Mas nessa resiliência, a graça de Deus sempre flui além.

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Capítulo 5: As Muletas no Chão

O forte homem chamado Haroldo acenou da margem, chamando-os para sua casa à beira do rio. Estava de muletas, incapaz de andar direito desde um acidente de moto, cinco anos antes.

Ao ver o barco, perguntou, com esperança, se eles tinham panelas de pressão para vender — confundindo-os com comerciantes itinerantes.

“Não vendemos panelas”, respondeu o pastor Clenildo com um sorriso acolhedor. “Nós trazemos a Palavra de Deus para amolecer corações.”

Haroldo os convidou a entrar, ansioso por ouvir qualquer coisa que tivessem a compartilhar. Depois de explicar o Evangelho e orar com ele pela salvação, sentiram-se guiados a orar também por sua cura física. Impuseram as mãos sobre ele, pedindo a Deus que restaurasse o que havia sido quebrado.

Imediatamente, Haroldo foi curado. Lágrimas escorriam pelo seu rosto marcado enquanto a força voltava às suas pernas. Primeiro, testou o peso com cautela, depois com crescente confiança. A dor desaparecerá. A fraqueza se foi.

Num momento inesquecível, digno do livro de Atos, Haroldo pegou a muleta, levou-a até a porta e a jogou para fora, na terra batida.

“De agora em diante, eu ando em nome de Jesus!”, declarou com alegria indomável.

A equipe ficou maravilhada ao testemunhar o mesmo poder que havia curado o coxo à Porta Formosa. Não era em Jerusalém nem em Antioquia, mas numa curva escondida de um afluente do rio Amazonas — onde o poder de Deus continua a fluir tão forte quanto há dois mil anos.

Capítulo 6: Sonhos que se Realizam ao Amanhecer

Quando Clenildo e sua equipe deixaram Isaac, o guia, no lugar onde haviam passado a noite enfrentando as fortes tempestades, ele os lembrou da entrada próxima ao igarapé Curio e se ofereceu para guiá-los até lá. As histórias que haviam ouvido sobre aquela região não eram animadoras — diziam que os moradores do Curio eram resistentes, até hostis aos de fora. Mas Clenildo sentia o chamado inconfundível de Deus para aquelas águas esquecidas.

O rio foi se estreitando à medida que avançavam pela selva. A correnteza ficou mais forte e os galhos se fechavam por cima deles, como uma catedral verde. Horas se passaram, embaladas apenas pelo som da água contra o casco de alumínio e pelo ronco constante do motor.

De repente, ouviram uma voz vinda da margem. Um homem chamado Regi estava em seu trapiche, acenando com gestos urgentes para que eles se aproximassem.
— Venham! Sejam bem-vindos à minha casa! — gritou ele, atravessando as águas.

Enquanto amarravam o barco, os olhos de Regi brilhavam fixos nos visitantes.
— Ontem à noite sonhei com três homens vindo me evangelizar — disse ofegante. — Quando vi o barco de vocês, soube na hora que eram vocês.

A equipe trocou olhares de espanto. Deus havia chegado antes deles, preparando corações por meio de sonhos e de encontros divinos. O que se dizia ser território hostil havia se tornado solo sagrado, onde o Espírito já agia no silêncio do sono e da visão.

Isaac, que os havia advertido sobre a resistência, ficou sem palavras.

Às vezes, a reputação de Deus vai à frente de Seus servos, abrindo portas que a sabedoria humana diria que permaneceriam fechadas.

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Capítulo 7: Quando Escolas se Tornam Santuários

Janeiro de 2025 – Região do Rio Louie

No caminho de volta pelo Rio Louie, a equipe do pastor Clenildo notou uma pequena escola por onde já haviam passado. Desta vez, a professora os recebeu e reuniu os alunos na sala principal. No início, o ambiente era resistente—braços cruzados, olhares desviados e um silêncio desconfiado preenchendo o ar.

Mas então começaram a contar histórias, do mesmo jeito que Jesus fazia. Histórias da criação, do magnífico amor de Deus, da trágica queda da humanidade e da gloriosa missão de resgate de Cristo. Falaram com paixão e ternura, observando os rostos ao redor da sala.

Aos poucos, algo milagroso começou a acontecer. Os braços se descruzaram. Os olhos se ergueram. Corações que estavam fechados como punhos começaram a se abrir como flores. A temperatura do ambiente parecia mudar—da suspeita fria para a curiosidade calorosa.

Era como se a antiga profecia de Ezequiel estivesse se cumprindo diante de seus olhos:
“Removerei deles o coração de pedra e lhes darei um coração de carne.”

Quando convidaram os alunos e professores a responderem ao Evangelho, mãos se ergueram por toda a sala. Estudantes, professores, até a coordenadora da escola—todos entregaram suas vidas a Cristo em um momento de rendição coletiva que deixou todos em lágrimas.

Depois, uma professora sussurrou entre lágrimas:
“Ninguém nunca trouxe essa esperança para nós antes. Por favor, prometam que voltarão.”

Eles deixaram Bíblias, Escrituras em áudio e até um livro sobre evangelismo.
“Agora vocês também são pastores”, disseram aos professores.
Uma escola havia se tornado um santuário.

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Capítulo 8: Quebrando Correntes em Caseira

Livres, enfim, das garras do inimigo

O pastor Renato os levou até uma casa em Caseira, conhecida por sua reputação sombria. O homem chamado Cumarco era conhecido em toda a região como praticante de feitiçaria. Assim que se aproximaram, uma opressão pesada caiu sobre eles como um cobertor sufocante.

Dentro da casa, a batalha espiritual era palpável. A esposa de Cumarco estava inquieta e agitada, andando de um lado para outro como um animal enjaulado. As crianças faziam barulho o tempo todo, como se quisessem abafar qualquer palavra que pudesse ser dita.
Era quase impossível concentrar-se ou comunicar-se com clareza.

Renato entregou, calmamente, balas às crianças enquanto a equipe orava em silêncio. Eles convidaram o casal apenas a ouvir, falando com suavidade sobre o amor de Deus e a liberdade encontrada em Cristo. A atmosfera ainda era densa e opressiva.

Mas, pouco a pouco — como o amanhecer rompendo as nuvens de uma tempestade — a Palavra de Deus começou a penetrar em seus corações. A esposa parou de andar. As crianças se calaram. A expressão endurecida de Cumarco começou a suavizar, e seus olhos — antes cheios de escuridão — se encheram de lágrimas.

Por fim, marido e mulher declararam sua fé em Cristo. A transformação foi imediata e impressionante. A alegria invadiu a casa como a luz do sol entrando pelas janelas. A opressão se foi. Eles abraçaram seus visitantes — livres, enfim, das garras do inimigo.

A equipe deixou com eles Bíblias e aparelhos de áudio com as Escrituras. Em profunda gratidão, o casal lhes presenteou com um enorme tambaqui para a viagem — um banquete nascido da liberdade.

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Capítulo 9: Clamor de uma Mãe pela Verdade

O Rio Dumas os recebeu no dia seguinte, quando Zammy se juntou à missão. Por volta das nove da manhã, eles já haviam evangelizado a primeira família — todos receberam a Cristo com lágrimas de alegria. Parecia que o rio os conduzia de um encontro divino a outro.

Em uma casa simples, uma mãe ouviu atentamente enquanto anunciavam o Evangelho. Suas mãos calejadas se uniram, e a compreensão começou a iluminar seu rosto. Quando terminaram de falar, ela se levantou de repente, tomada por uma urgência intensa.

“Onde estão meus filhos?” — ela exclamou. “Eles precisam ouvir essas verdades! Não podem perder isso!”

Ela chamou e chamou até que seus filhos adultos vieram correndo dos roçados e das casas vizinhas. Um a um, eles entraram naquele pequeno cômodo enquanto a mãe insistia que ouvissem a mensagem mais importante de suas vidas.

Ao cair da noite, já haviam visitado mais cinco famílias — e todas se renderam ao Senhor. Em outra casa, o cansaço atingiu o pastor Clenildo como um golpe físico. Sua força havia se esgotado. O pastor Renato percebeu imediatamente e pediu que o grupo orasse por seu líder.

As orações unidas o renovaram instantaneamente. A força voltou ao seu corpo, e ele prosseguiu com novo vigor. O poder da oração comunitária o sustentou pelo restante da jornada.

Quando regressaram à casa de Zammy, estavam fisicamente exaustos, mas espiritualmente transbordando de alegria. Comunidade após comunidade havia aberto o coração ao Rei.

Capítulo 10: O Peso da Glória

Dez dias navegando pelos rios da Amazônia não é pouca coisa. Horas apertadas em pequenos barcos de alumínio deixam as costas doloridas, os ouvidos zunindo pelo motor de popa e a pele queimada pelo vento e pelo sol. O sono vem em curtos intervalos, sobre pisos de madeira dura. Mosquitos atacam sem trégua. Serpentes, tempestades e fortes correntezas espreitam em cada curva do rio.

Mas a presença do Espírito Santo superou tudo isso.

Clenildo e sua equipe descobriram que a glória de Deus nem sempre chega com trombetas e fanfarras. Às vezes, ela se revela no silêncio sagrado de uma oração ao lado de um fogão de barro. Às vezes, brilha no abraço de um estranho que se torna irmão em Cristo. Às vezes, ecoa no som de muletas sendo lançadas da varanda — para nunca mais serem usadas.

Os rostos ficaram gravados no coração de Clenildo —
Frank, chorando porque ninguém jamais o havia visitado.
Haroldo, jogando suas muletas no rio.
As crianças da escola, com as mãos erguidas em sinal de rendição.
A mãe, clamando para que seus filhos ouvissem a verdade.

Cada encontro foi um agendamento divino — preparado por um Deus que vê cada canto esquecido e conhece cada nome esquecido. Não eram estatísticas evangelísticas; eram almas eternas caminhando rumo à luz e à vida.

Quando a equipe voltou para casa, ninguém era o mesmo. O Espírito havia sido derramado — não apenas sobre os que receberam o Evangelho, mas também sobre os mensageiros. Algo eterno se entrelaçou em suas vidas e nunca mais os soltaria. Alguns estavam felizes por terem terminado a viagem; outros mal podiam esperar para voltar.

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História 11: A Colheita Está Pronta. Agora.

Solo Fértil”

Algumas semanas depois, um amigo fez ao pastor Clenildo a pergunta que mais importava:
— “Como essa viagem mudou você?”

Ele parou por um momento, procurando palavras para expressar algo que a linguagem não alcançava.
— “Não foi apenas uma viagem,” respondeu por fim. “Foi um derramar do Espírito — sobre eles e sobre mim.”

Por que Clenildo e outros fazem esse trabalho? Porque pertencem ao Rei. Vivem para o Seu Reino. Quando o Rei fala, eles vão. Quando o Rei sinaliza, eles se movem. É simples assim — e profundamente verdadeiro.

Alguns pensam que é loucura — gastar tanto tempo, dinheiro e energia em comunidades ribeirinhas remotas que o mundo esqueceu. Mas Deus não esqueceu. Ele conhece cada pessoa pelo nome, conta cada lágrima, ouve cada oração sussurrada na escuridão.

Se você pudesse ver o que eles viram — rostos se iluminando ao receber as Boas Novas, famílias orando juntas —, entenderia melhor por que eles vão.

A floresta amazônica é um solo fértil, não apenas para cocos e bananas, mas também para árvores imensas — e para o Reino de Deus. Isaías prometeu que a Palavra de Deus nunca volta vazia, mas sempre produz fruto. Paulo escreveu que uns plantam, outros regam, mas é Deus quem dá o crescimento.

As sementes foram lançadas em dezenas de corações e lares. Agora é hora de regar, cuidar, e ver essas sementes crescerem até se tornarem uma colheita que ecoará pela eternidade.

O Reino de Deus está chegando aos lugares esquecidos.

FIM desta parte da história de Clenildo.

Chapter 1: Into the Darkness with Divine Direction

At three o’clock in the morning on March 7, 2025, Pastor Clenildo’s boat cut through the mist-covered waters of the Xingu River. They were headed into uncharted territory—places where no one had ever preached the Gospel before. The chill wind reminded him of childhood fishing trips with his father, who always prayed: “Lord, where will we find fish today?”

As they entered the narrow Ademir River, darkness swallowed them completely. For a few heart-stopping moments, it felt like they were lost in an impenetrable void. Clenildo reacted with a calm demeanor, but intense eyes as he strained to see the way forward: “Holy Spirit, show us the way.” And He did—clear and unmistakable direction in the darkness.

Their powerful flashlight revealed dozens of caimans resting along the banks, their eyes gleaming red like rubies in the night. When dawn finally broke, the jungle awakened with them—flocks of white egrets rising into the air, their wings catching the first light. Even the birds always flew along the river ahead of their boat, sometimes for twenty minutes at a time, as if leading the way.

By seven in the morning, they had entered the Louie River. Mist dissolved into golden sunlight filtering through the canopy above. Their eyes scanned the banks, searching for homes. Each time they spotted one, they prayed—for the family inside, for the Spirit’s leading, for open doors to hearts that had been waiting.

This wasn’t just a mission trip. This was an expedition into the very heart of God’s love for the forgotten, guided by the same Spirit who led Philip to the Ethiopian eunuch on a desert road.

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Chapter 2: Providence in a Cheese Pot

Three hours up the Louie River, two waterways opened before Pastor Clenildo’s team like a question mark written in water. Which way to go? They chose the right-hand fork—only to discover later it was the wrong one.

At the end of that channel, they found a bustling buffalo ranch. In the center stood a great steaming pot, curds rising and falling like white clouds in a steamy sky. The owner explained the cheese was already sold, but then paused, smiling: “Bring me a container. I’ll share some from this new batch.”

As he ladled out the creamy curds, he asked why they had come.
“We’re here to evangelize,” they replied. “We’re starting with the last man on the Guadaná River.”

The rancher’s face softened. “On your way back, come evangelize me, too. I’d like that. And by the way, you took the wrong fork. The Guadaná is back the other way.”

They left with four kilos of cheese, clear direction, and the knowledge that even mistakes can be divine appointments.

Sometimes God’s providence looks like getting lost. Sometimes His provision comes through a cheese pot. And sometimes the very person who redirects our steps becomes part of the mission.

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Chapter 3: When Thunder Becomes Worship

After traveling all day on the river, by sunset, Pastor Clenildo’s team pulled over at a random house. They learned the owner’s name was Isaac. This stranger welcomed them in with open arms. He showed them three houses where they could stay the night—one by the river, one in the fields, one on higher ground.

While Isaac welcomed his visitors to stay the night, he was suspicious, at first, of their message. After a time of conversation, though, he revealed he was already a brother in Christ.

That night, the heavens opened with fury. A fierce storm broke over the region with sheets of rain, howling wind, and lightning that turned night into day. The thin wooden walls shook like leaves. Mosquitoes swarmed in clouds. Three times, Clenildo went out into the driving downpour with only a headlamp to bail water from their boat so it wouldn’t sink.

Thunder crashed overhead. Lightning split the sky. With each trip outside, while instantly drenched to the skin, he kept one eye out for snakes stirred up by the storm. It was a long, miserable night that tested every ounce of faith and resilience. Yet through it all, the Lord sustained them.

In the morning, they reunited with team members who had stayed at the field house. They struggled a long time to light a fire with wet wood. Pastor Wagner finally managed to dry some sticks, get some flames, and prepare pancakes and coffee for breakfast. His simple act of service moved Isaac deeply.

“I’ve never seen pastors serve like this,” Isaac marveled. “Where I come from, pastors don’t come and serve. They expect to be served.” His heart opened completely. Sometimes God uses storms not to stop us, but to reveal His character through us.

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Chapter 4: The Last House at the End of the World

In January 2025, Pastor Clenildo and the team continued with their motorboat into an unknown stretch of the Guadaná River. With every bend, fuel burned, and the jungle closed in. At each house they passed, people said the same thing: “The last house is an hour ahead.”

Seven hours later—hungry and tired—they pulled up to a stilt house of palm leaves. Smoke rose from the cookfire. Chickens scratched the bank. A pot of capybara stew bubbled. The man of the house, Raimundo, welcomed them in and shared his meal.

When they told him they had come to bring Good News to the last man on the river, Raimundo said, “Then share it with me, too.” He listened like a starving man to bread. Before they left, he agreed to guide them. “It’s still a long way upriver.” 

They finally reached it—a weathered shack of gray boards veined with vines. The last house. Its owner, a 75-year-old nicknamed Mario (given name, Frank), had lived alone since 1975. Muscles still corded from a lifetime of cutting wood. When he saw the visitors, tears filled his eyes. “No one comes to visit me.”

Had anyone ever shared the gospel with him? He shook his head. People avoided him because of his reputation as dangerous. He invited them to speak.

They opened to Mark 16:15-18 and asked two questions: Why do we need the gospel? What is the gospel? Clenildo traced the story: creation’s goodness, humanity’s fall, sin breaking our fellowship with God, with one another, and with creation—and God sending His Son to redeem us.

Frank’s questions came fast—like the Ethiopian official with Philip. There, at the last house on the Guadaná, a forgotten man believed. Heaven rejoiced.

They left an audio Bible and gospel leaflets, drank passionfruit juice from his vines, and listened to tales of venomous snakes that had bitten him yet never harmed him. He begged them to stay the night, but duty called them back downstream.

That day is etched into memory: the day the gospel reached the last house. My friends’ eagerness reminded me how many people are hungry for God—not for religion, not for philosophy, but for the Bread of Heaven.

Missionary work always costs more than we expect, and takes us further than we plan — but in that resilience, God’s grace always flows further.

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Story 5: Crutches Cast Aside

The strong man named Haroldo waved them to shore, calling from his home on the riverbank. He stood on crutches, having been unable to walk properly since a motorcycle accident five years earlier.

Seeing their boat, he asked hopefully if they had pressure cookers to sell—mistaking them for traveling merchants.

“We don’t sell pots,” Pastor Clenildo said with a warm smile. “We bring the Word of God to soften hearts.”

Haroldo invited them in, eager to hear whatever they had to share. After explaining the Gospel and praying with him about salvation, they felt led to pray for his physical healing as well. They laid hands on him, asking God to restore what had been broken.

Immediately, Haroldo was healed. Tears streamed down his weathered face as strength flowed back into his legs. He tested his weight tentatively, then with growing confidence. The pain was gone. The weakness had fled.

In an unforgettable moment that seemed straight from the book of Acts, Haroldo took his crutch, carried it to the door, and threw it off the porch and into the river below.

“From now on, I walk in the name of Jesus,” he declared with fierce joy.

The team stood in awe, witnessing the same power that had healed the lame man at the Beautiful Gate. This wasn’t happening in Jerusalem or Antioch, but on a hidden bend on an Amazon River tributary, where God’s power flows just as strongly as it did two thousand years ago.

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Chapter 6: Dreams Come True at Dawn

When Clenildo and his team dropped Isaac, their guide, off at the place where they had spent the night and witnessed the fierce storms, he reminded them of the nearby entrance to the Currycurry Tributary and offered to guide them there as well. Stories they had heard about that region weren’t encouraging—people said those living along the Currycurry were resistant, even hostile to outsiders. But Clenildo felt God’s unmistakable pull toward those forgotten waters.

The river narrowed as they traveled deeper into the jungle. The current grew stronger, and branches closed overhead like a green cathedral. Hours passed with only the sound of water against their aluminum hull and the steady rumble of the motor.

Then they heard a voice calling from the shore. A man named Regi stood on his dock, waving them toward his home with urgent gestures. “Come! You are welcome in my house,” he shouted across the water.

As they tied up their boat, Regi’s eyes shone as he stared at the visitors. “Last night I dreamed of three men coming to evangelize me,” he said breathlessly. “I knew it was you the moment I saw your boat.”

The team exchanged amazed glances. God had gone before them, preparing hearts through dreams and divine encounters. What people had said would be hostile territory had become holy ground, where the Spirit had already been working in the realm of sleep and vision.

Isaac, who had warned them about resistance, stood speechless.

Sometimes God’s reputation precedes His servants, opening doors that human wisdom says should remain closed.

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Chapter 7: When Schools Become Sanctuaries

January 2025 – Louie River Region

On their way back down the Louie River, Pastor Clenildo’s team noticed a small school they had passed earlier. This time, the teacher welcomed them in and gathered the students in the main classroom. At first, the atmosphere was resistant—arms folded across chests, eyes averted, and a suspicious silence filled the air.

But then they began to tell stories, the way Jesus did. Stories of creation, of God’s magnificent love, of humanity’s tragic fall, and of Christ’s glorious rescue mission. They spoke with passion and tenderness, watching faces around the room.

Slowly, something miraculous began to happen. Arms unfolded. Eyes lifted. Hearts that had been closed like fists began to open like flowers. The room’s temperature seemed to shift from cold suspicion to warm curiosity.

It was as if Ezekiel’s ancient prophecy was happening before their eyes: “I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.”

When they invited the students and teachers to respond to the Gospel, hands went up throughout the room. Students, teachers, and even the school coordinator—all gave their lives to Christ in a moment of corporate surrender that left everyone in tears.

Afterward, one teacher whispered through her tears: “No one has ever brought this hope to us before. Please, promise you’ll come back.”

They left behind Bibles, audio Scriptures, and even a book on evangelism. “Now you are pastors too,” they told the teachers. A school had become a sanctuary.

Chapter 8: Breaking Chains in Caseira

Free at Last from the Enemy’s Grip

Pastor Renato led them to a home in Caseira with a dark reputation. The man named Cumarco was renowned throughout the region for his practice of witchcraft. As soon as they approached, a heavy oppression settled over them like a suffocating blanket.

Inside the house, the spiritual warfare was palpable. Cumarco’s wife was restless and agitated, pacing like a caged animal. Children made constant noise, as if trying to drown out any words that might be spoken. It was nearly impossible to focus or communicate clearly.

Renato quietly handed candy to the children while the team prayed under their breath. They invited the couple to simply listen, speaking gently about God’s love and the freedom found in Christ. The atmosphere remained thick and oppressive.

But slowly, like dawn breaking through storm clouds, the Word of God began to pierce their hearts. The wife stopped pacing. The children grew quiet. Cumarco’s hardened expression began to soften, and his eyes—which had held darkness—began to fill with tears.

At last, both husband and wife declared their faith in Christ. The transformation was immediate and stunning. Joy flooded the house like sunlight through windows. The oppression lifted. They embraced their visitors, free at last from the enemy’s grip.

The team left them with Bibles and audio Scriptures. In profound gratitude, the couple gave them a huge tambaqui fish for their journey—a feast born from freedom.

Chapter 9: A Mother’s Cry for Truth

“Where Are My Children? They Must Hear!”

The Dumas River welcomed them the next day as Zammy joined their mission. By nine in the morning, they had already evangelized their first family, who all received Christ with tears of joy. The river seemed to be carrying them from one divine appointment to another.

At one humble home, a mother listened intently as they shared the Gospel. Her weathered hands clasped together as understanding dawned across her face. When they finished speaking, she suddenly stood up with fierce urgency.

“Where are my children?” she cried out. “They must hear these truths! They cannot miss this!”

She called and called until her grown children came running from the fields and nearby houses. One by one, they gathered in that small room as their mother insisted they listen to the most important message they would ever hear.

By nightfall, they had visited five more families, and each one surrendered to the Lord. At another home, exhaustion hit Pastor Clenildo like a physical blow. His strength was completely gone. Pastor Renato noticed immediately and asked the gathered group to pray for their leader.

Their united prayers renewed him instantly. Strength flowed back into his body, and he pressed on with fresh energy. The power of corporate prayer sustained him for the rest of the journey.

By evening, they returned to Zammy’s home, physically tired but spiritually overflowing with joy. Community after community had opened their hearts to the King.

Chapter 10: The Weight of Glory

Something Eternal Intertwined

Ten days on the rivers of the Amazon is no small thing. Hours cramped in narrow aluminum boats leave your back aching, your ears ringing from the outboard motor, and your skin burned by the wind and weather. Sleep comes in short bursts on hard wooden floors. Mosquitoes swarm without mercy. Snakes, storms, and strong currents lurk around every bend.

But the presence of the Holy Spirit outweighed it all.

Clenildo and his team discovered that God’s glory doesn’t always arrive with trumpets or fanfare. Sometimes it’s revealed in the sacred silence of prayer beside a clay cooking stove. Sometimes it shines in the embrace of a stranger who becomes a sister in Christ. Sometimes it echoes in the sound of crutches being thrown off a porch—never to be picked up again.

The faces lingered in Clenildo’s heart—
Frank, weeping because no one had ever visited him.
Haroldo, hurling his crutches into the river.
Schoolchildren, hands raised in surrender.
A mother, pleading for her children to hear the truth.

Each encounter was a divine appointment—crafted by a God who sees every forgotten corner and knows every forgotten name. These weren’t evangelistic statistics; they were eternal souls moving toward light and life.

When the team returned home, none of them were the same. The Spirit had been poured out—not only on those who received the Gospel, but on the messengers themselves. Something eternal had intertwined with their lives and would never let go. Some were relieved to be home, while others could hardly wait to return.

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Chapter Story 11: The Harvest is Ripe. Now.

Title: “The Jungle Is Fertile Soil”

Weeks later, a friend asked Pastor Clenildo the question that mattered most: “How did that trip change you?”

He paused, searching for words to capture something that felt too big for language. “It wasn’t just a trip,” he finally said. “It was an outpouring of the Spirit—on them, and on me.”

Why do Clenildo and others do this work? Because they belong to the King. They live for His Kingdom. When the King speaks, they go. When the King signals, they move. It’s that simple and that profound. Some people think they’re foolish—spending so much time, money, and energy on remote river communities the world has forgotten. But God has not forgotten. He knows each one by name, counts each tear, hears each prayer whispered in the darkness.

If you could see what they saw—faces lighting up as they received the Good News, families praying together,—it would become clearer why they go.

The Amazon rainforest is fertile soil, not only for coconuts and bananas, but also for towering trees and for the Kingdom of God. Isaiah promised that God’s Word never returns empty but always produces fruit. Paul wrote that some plant, others water, but God gives the growth.

The seeds have been planted in dozens of hearts and homes. Now it’s time to water them, tend them, watch them grow into a harvest that will echo through eternity.

The Kingdom of God is coming to forgotten places.

END of this part of Clenildo’s Story

Uncle Henry was my childhood hero and a lifetime hero. He, along with his family and the Regions Beyond Missionary Union, planted churches in Borneo for 25 years. He passed away this week at the age of 96. Here is his obituary, written by his children.

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On August 1, 1929, Henry Thiessen was born, the fifth son of Dietrich & Helena (née Voth) Thiessen, in Grunthal, Manitoba. Later, that same year, the family moved to Yarrow, BC, where they lived in a house on Majuba Hill. When Henry was 2 years old, the family built a house on McCallum Road, and eventually their family grew to include seven sons and two daughters. After Grade 10, Henry worked for his father and older brother, Nick, driving a Caterpillar and moving houses for approximately 2 years. When he was 19 years old, Henry got a job logging in the Queen Charlotte Islands, British Columbia. On one visit home, he met his sister, Margaret’s Bible School roommate, Edna Toews, who was attending Yarrow Bible School.

May 31, 1952, Henry married Edna Toews in the East Aldergrove Mennonite Brethren (MB) Church. Their first summer as a married couple, they taught Daily Vacation Bible School (DVBS) for kids at Copper Mountain near Princeton, and Henry preached his first sermon. Henry and Edna decided that Bible School would be helpful if Henry were going to try preaching again. Vange was born March 16, 1953, during Henry’s first year as a student at Bethel Bible School on the corner of Gladwin & Huntingdon, in Abbotsford. That summer, Henry earned enough as a logger in Lytton, BC, to allow both Henry & Edna to attend Prairie Bible Institute in Three Hills, Alberta.

In the summer of 1954, Henry & Edna went to work in an orphanage called “Bethany Homes for Children” located east of Wetaskiwin, in Gwynne, Alberta. There they cooked, cleaned, and helped to care for 50 children so that some of the staff could take holidays. One day, a lady came to the orphanage door and asked if she could admit her three young sons to the orphanage. When Henry and Edna phoned the manager, they were informed that the orphanage was at capacity. However, if they would like to accept the three boys into their unit and take care of them as their own, that would be okay. Thus, in September of that year, Henry & Edna returned to Prairie Bible Institute with the three brothers, Donny (5 years), Alvin (4 years), and Walter (3 years), whom they had fostered. The boys started to call them “Mom” and “Dad,” and Henry and Edna began to discuss adopting them.

By the time Dan was born on Oct. 21, 1954, life at the small Motel #10 was buzzing with activity! Caring for five kids under the age of 6 and both Henry and Edna studying full-time was hard work! Henry could study at home with noise, but Edna needed to go to the library. They worked as a team and both passed to the following year. Henry and Edna decided that if they could adopt Walter, Donny, and Alvin, then they would abandon their plans to be missionaries and stay in Canada to raise their family. However, when the foster boys’ mother would not allow Henry and Edna to adopt all three brothers together, they made the difficult decision not to split the boys up. Henry took a friend from school with him on a somber drive to return the three brothers to their biological mother.

On April 12, 1957, Henry and Edna were one of only two couples who both graduated from Prairie Bible Institute that year. In September, they were invited by West Coast Children’s Mission to work in Port Edward, BC, while they waited for their Indonesian visas. On Sundays, Henry travelled in a small boat to minister to the Japanese and the Indigenous communities up the coast in Sunnyside and Inverness, BC.
May 18, 1959, with visas in hand, Henry, Edna, Vange (6 yrs) & Dan (4 yrs) boarded a cargo ship called “Java Mail” at Seattle, WA. It was a sunny day, and a group of family and friends from the East Aldergrove MB Church (now Ross Road Community Church) drove to Seattle to see them off. After approximately 1 month at sea, they arrived in Singapore, where a second ship, named “Langkara” took them on a 1-week voyage to Pontianak, (on the island of Borneo) Indonesia.

During their first year in Borneo, they were stationed in Anik (1959-1960), located in West Borneo, also known as Kalimantan Barat, where their primary focus was to learn the Indonesian language. Edna also taught Vange in grade 1 by correspondence, and Henry spent afternoons in the medical clinic across the red mud road, learning from Clara Lima, a single American missionary Registered Nurse, how to stitch up wounds, deliver babies, and treat the wounds of a crocodile victim. Henry accepted invitations from the locals to go hunting for monkeys and alligators before he had learned and spoken the language.

The following year, the Thiessen Family opened a new area in Sebadu (SumSum) (1960 – 1962), where they were a day’s travel (by vehicle) away from any other foreigners. Edna homeschooled Vange in grades 2 & 3 and Dan in grades 1 & 2. As would be their style in the years to come, Henry and Edna started a small weekly Sunday service in their home. As the group grew, Henry removed walls in their house to accommodate the many Dayak people sitting on the floor mats, crowded together. Eventually, the congregation grew large enough to build its church building. Small home meetings were also initiated in several villages within walking or bicycling distance.

In the summer of 1963, on their way back to Borneo, the family was delayed in Singapore because the doctor suspected Edna was carrying twins, which would complicate the planned home delivery. Fortunately, Henry and Edna’s classmates from PBI, Ben and Muriel Sawatsky, were working in Singapore and invited them to stay in their home during that time. After the family spent 3 months waiting in Singapore, Rebekah was born in a Seventh-day Adventist Hospital in Singapore. Nine days after Rebekah’s birth, the Thiessen family sailed by ship to Pontianak (Borneo). At the Regions Beyond Missionary Union annual conference that year, it was decided that Henry and Edna would open another new area in Menjalin. There were no known Christians or contacts in the area, so Henry had to meet people, find land, and build a family home. Once the family moved into the Menjalin house, Henry spent many hours trekking with locals to villages for meetings, learning about the culture, food, and visiting with Dayaks in their homes. Although Henry always carried medicine to share with the people, his big passion was literature. Some of the young Dayak children attended elementary school up to grade 6, but there was nothing to read. They were eager to buy, borrow, or share Indonesian Bibles, the hymn books called “Kemenangan Iman” and tracts that Henry brought. Many also embraced the gospel and started the process of changing their lives and overcoming animistic fears. Henry also enjoyed sports and scheduled regular volleyball games (in which he participated with enthusiasm) in the front yard of our home – everyone welcome! He enjoyed hanging out with locals and doing things like going to hunt Durian fruit, which was an all-night event. There were many good opportunities to visit and share about life and the Lord.

However, political problems were brewing in Indonesia. The Indonesian government was concerned that the Chinese were planning a Communist takeover, so it had enlisted many of the Dayak natives to plunder, kill, and chase the Chinese out of the rural areas. Many of the Chinese (among them our neighbors) fled to the forest to hide, and it was a perilous, stressful time. Some Dayaks reverted to their old head-hunting traditions, and we heard stories of cannibalism. One day, in an attempt to keep his family safe, Henry put Edna and the three children on a truck to drive to a safer area. He had just given the Chinese truck driver (our storekeeper friend from town) gas for his vehicle full of fleeing Chinese people. Edna and her children were separated from Henry for several scary nights with no communication. All Edna wanted to do was get back home. After being stopped by raiders on the first attempt, Edna successfully returned home to Henry. On December 24, 1964, Christmas Eve, after opening presents, the Thiessen family evacuated to the capital city of Pontianak. The hope was to return to Menjalin as soon as possible, but instead, the Regions Beyond Missionary Union mission recommended that all missionaries leave the country. On December 28, 1964, the entire Thiessen family made an unscheduled trip to Canada, as it was considered politically unsafe for foreigners to remain in Indonesia.

Henry and his family moved in with his widowed mom, Helena Thiessen, on Pine Street in Clearbrook, British Columbia, Canada. Four months later, on April 29, 1965, Henry returned to Indonesia alone in response to a request from missionaries in Borneo for his help. Edna remained in Clearbrook to give Vange and Dan a chance to finish their already interrupted school year. The plan was for Edna to follow to Indonesia, as soon as the children finished school. However, during Henry’s absence, Edna had gall bladder surgery, and Henry’s mother passed away. Henry’s letters from Borneo reflected that the political situation was still precarious. It was decided that Vange & Dan would be safer in Canada while Edna returned with 2-year-old Rebekah to Indonesia to be with Henry. A year later, in the summer of 1966, Henry, Edna & Rebekah returned to Canada to seek help for Edna’s health problems. After a year in Canada, the whole family returned to Menjalin, Indonesia. Henry & Edna (and Rebekah) spent the next 4-year term in Menjalin (summer 67 – summer 1971) working in the local churches. During this term (summer 1969), Vange travelled to Canada to attend the Mennonite Educational Institute (MEI) (for Grades 11 and 12) and live with Uncle George and Auntie Margaret Bergen. Dan followed the next summer (1970), joining Vange at the Bergen residence. Henry & Edna arrived in Canada for furlough, just in time to attend Vange’s MEI High School graduation (1971).

After a one-year furlough, Henry, Edna & Rebekah returned to Borneo for their fifth term (March 1972 – May 1976) and were allocated to the city of Pontianak. Vange was in Briercrest Bible Institute in Saskatchewan, and Dan was working for Uncle Art in McBride, British Columbia. In Pontianak, Henry and Edna operated an Intermission Guest House, complete with meals, post office services, and more. This large rented facility also had a back wing of bedrooms, which Henry and Edna used as a Christian Girls’ Dorm to provide a safe home for Dayak village girls who came to study in Pontianak. Henry was also asked to supervise the Dayak Boys Dorm, located a few blocks away from the PPIK Pontianak Church. During this term, Henry worked to open a Christian Book Store, named “Hikmat” (Wisdom) in the city of Pontianak, and employed Mahidin and other Dayak staff to operate it. When Elmer & Ruth Warkentin were on furlough and Goodrun Lima (their intended backup) became sick, Henry and Edna moved to Ansang station to oversee the Berea Bible Institute and taught some Bible classes there for one year.
Henry and Edna spent their sixth term (April 19, 1977 – April 21, 1981) in the city of Pontianak and their 7th Term (April 19, 1982 – July 23, 1983) back in Menjalin. Their last term was cut short due to Edna’s health. During the 23 years they worked with the Dayak people in West Borneo, Henry and Edna established many churches that are still operating today, led by Indonesian pastors.

In 1983, upon their return to Canada, Rev. Nick Dyck approached Henry & Edna about church planting in Pemberton, BC. Two weeks after they arrived in Pemberton, the town was flooded, and students from the East Aldergrove MB Church and Columbia Bible College (CBC) came to help the Pemberton residents with food and cleanup. This created many opportunities for Henry and Edna to get to know and minister to the people of Pemberton. Henry sometimes challenged the people’s stereotype of a minister by responding to a widow’s need for help in rounding up her horses that had gotten out, and participating in many other practical ways. Henry & Edna served 7 years (1983 – 1990) as the first resident pastor in Pemberton.
In 1990, Henry and Edna responded to an invitation as guest speakers at Gardom Lake Bible Camp. Edna spoke at a ladies’ retreat in Armstrong, and after several invitations, they began to pray about a ministry in Armstrong, BC. They lived and worked in Armstrong, BC, for 2 years. During this time, their son Dan was telling them about a great need in Sayward, on Vancouver Island.

Henry loved to be involved in the pioneer work of opening up new areas, so in 1993, when the invitation came, Henry and Edna moved into an old run-down house in Sayward, on Vancouver Island, to work with a group of believers there. During their 2 years in Sayward, Edna struggled with a severe allergy to the Poplar fluff in the area. When her allergies became life-threatening, the doctor recommended they move, so they decided to retire in Abbotsford, BC. In part as a result of Henry and Edna’s work, both the Pemberton and Sayward groups of believers became MB Churches.

During their time in Abbotsford, Henry enjoyed helping with grandkids. He also participated in several CPE trips to Lima, Peru, Manila, Philippines, and to the Congo, where he contracted Dengue fever and almost did not make it home. In 1998, Henry came out of retirement and accepted a position as pastor in Midway, BC, where they ministered for 3 years.

When Henry and Edna retired for the second time, he continued to speak in churches when asked and enjoyed spending summers speaking at different Bible camps: Gardom Bible Camp, Pines Bible Camp and Canadian Sunday School Mission, Lillooet, BC. Henry and Edna also had the opportunity to return to Borneo in 2003 and celebrated the 50th anniversary of the PPIK church. They had the chance to visit many of their old friends, evangelists, and pastors. They also visited some of the different churches and groups of believers that were still meeting weekly to worship God. In the summer of 2007, Henry traveled with his son, Dan, to visit his nephew Rick & Deanna Bergen, who were working as missionaries in Brazil. In
July 2010, Henry and Edna moved into a suite on Pete and Rebekah’s Bradner Rd. (Abbotsford) farm where they lived for 12 years. Henry enjoyed picking up grandkids, Sarah and Amisa, from MEI after school, and taking them to music lessons, etc. His favorite activity was taking the kids or anyone else who came to Tim Hortons for coffee and ice cream. He liked one-on-one visits and would often ask, “How are you really doing?” Henry and Edna walked for exercise each day (in the mall during the winter months), watched hockey together, and played Scrabble often. Henry loved the outdoors and physical labor, such as chopping firewood, gardening, and hunting. As he aged, he continued with other activities, such as reading, doing puzzles, or sitting on the patio with his mom and singing hymns from memory in German, Indonesian, and English. Dad was a gracious and cheerful helper. Forever positive, he expressed his wish to outlive mom, so that he could be her caregiver until the very end. February 9, 2022, Edna passed away quietly in her sleep. Although she was gone, Henry held her hand, told her what a good wife she had been, and then prayed.

July 11, 2022, Henry moved into The Oxford in Abbotsford, BC. He would tell us that this facility was far too nice for him, and it took a few weeks for him to adjust and find other Scrabble players and puzzlers, etc. At 93 years old, Henry remained positive and happy to go out for coffee and ice cream with anyone who would take him! October 14, 2023, Dad moved to The Valhaven Home. The family continued to take him out for coffee, and then came the inevitable request, “Can we just drive around a bit – maybe the airport, or maybe Mission?” Henry passed away on August 16, 2025. He left behind his children: Vange (Eric) Thiessen, Dan (Sandy) Thiessen, and Rebekah (Peter) Vandervelden and grandchildren: CJ (Stephanie) Thiessen, Jessica Thiessen, Perry (Brittanie) Thiessen, Rachel (Chuck predeceased) Keim, Amanda (Paul) Chaffee, Avi (Wendy) Thiessen, Sarah (Jordan) Regier, Amisa Vandervelden, and Kaden Vandervelden and great grandchildren: Silas Thiessen, Ari Thiessen, Callum Thiessen, Chloe Thiessen, Hannah Keim, Aden Keim, Levi Keim, Elli Keim, Safiya Chaffee, Emmett Thiessen and Nolan Thiessen.
We will miss you, Henry!

When God’s whisper becomes a clear path

The Amazonian heat pressed against me like a living thing, wrapping around my body and my thoughts alike. I sat alone, wondering — aching — for clarity about where my life was headed. Thousands of miles away from my beloved Santa Catarina, the longing to return home and plant a church had become a constant companion: sometimes a comfort, more often a heavy burden that wouldn’t let go.

It was during that season of deep questioning that our paths crossed, Rick — during that retreat, in one of those life-altering conversations that start casually but end like a flame to dry tinder.

I told you about my two years serving in the Amazon. About the seeds God had planted in my spirit that would not be silenced: a calling to pastor, to create a place where His presence would flourish. I shared the ache to go back, though I had no human way to make it happen.

We talked — and then you paused.

Something shifted in you. Your eyes seemed to look beyond the moment, as if you were seeing something I couldn’t yet see. You prayed over me, and spoke a vision:

“I see you in a dense jungle,” you said, voice gentle but clear.
“You’re hacking through thick vines, your arms heavy with exhaustion.
But don’t stop.
Just ahead, there’s a clearing — wide, open, and filled with light.
Keep moving forward.”

Rick, those words sank deep into my spirit. They became an anchor.

Every time the jungle closed in tighter, every time doubt and discouragement wrapped around me like the vines of the Amazon itself, I would remember: A clearing lies ahead. Keep going.

The Waiting and the Wonder

But the breakthrough didn’t come overnight.

There were days I wanted to lay the machete down and weep. The work was endless. The path invisible. Some days it felt like my strength would never be enough.

Yet those words you spoke kept my feet moving when my heart wanted to freeze.
“Continue with faith. Continue with determination.”

And then — in a way only God could orchestrate — the unexpected happened.

In September of 2024, out of nowhere a military officer I’d once served under, called me.

Without my asking — without even a hint from me — he offered to help me return to Santa Catarina. He said he could personally arrange my transfer as part of a new assignment circuit he was overseeing. A miracle of rank and timing. In our system, a private request like that to a general is unthinkable — and yet here was a general reaching out to me, offering help.

It was a door no man could open — but God had already swung it wide.

By October, my transfer was approved.
I was going home.

The Clearing Revealed

When I arrived in Santa Catarina, I wasted no time.

I went straight to my pastor, told him the whole story — the Amazon journey, the vision of the clearing, the miraculous transfer.

We knew it was God’s leading.

And so, with trembling hands but a burning heart, we planted the seed: a new church community.

It’s been six months now.

Ten people already gather regularly. Ten souls who are part of a miracle bigger than any of us can see yet. We are taking it slow, building carefully, honoring the sacred weight of this new beginning.

Hope is rising out of the soil of obedience.

Reflections on the Journey

Looking back, the trail is clear. God’s fingerprints are everywhere:

• In a retreat conversation that became prophecy.
• In a weary traveler armed with a machete of faith.
• In a general moved by divine prompting.
• In a jungle cleared by the unseen hand of God.

Rick, your willingness to listen and speak what you saw that day changed the course of my life. You became a lighthouse when I needed direction most.

Your words didn’t just predict a clearing — they created resilience for the road that led me to it.

God used you as a channel to show me that even when we can’t trace His hand, we can trust His heart.

And now, standing in the clearing, I can tell you:
He is faithful.
He still leads His people.
And He still answers — often in ways far more surprising and glorious than we dare to imagine.

A Call to Seek and Believe

To anyone reading this:
Maybe you’re hacking through your own jungle right now.
Maybe you’re exhausted, lost, tempted to believe the clearing will never come.

Don’t give up.

God speaks.
God leads.
And God sends unexpected answers — sometimes through friends, sometimes through generals, sometimes through whispers that become the roar of fulfilled promises.

Seek Him with everything you have.

Expect Him to answer.

You may be closer to the clearing than you think.

“For He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
(Philippians 1:6)

Amen.

Knock on the door. Plant the seed. Watch for where God is moving, and for what He is offering you. (This is what we’re seeing, even now.)

Life is Good… Even NowWe have light for the next step.And we have a plan.Thanks to your prayers, Deanna completed two CAT scans Friday (with a third brain scan scheduled for Monday). We’re awaiting the final results. In the meantime, we’re preparing to return to Abbotsford in eight days, trusting that the better emotional and spiritual support there will be part of God’s healing process.

We gathered at Clenildo and Angelita’s house, prayed for divine healing, and felt God’s peace settle in. We don’t know the full story yet. But we know the Author.

Planting Seeds in the UnknownIn the spirit of waiting and trusting, I remembered a story — Maria’s story. I changed a few identifiers, but the story is as she told it.It’s a story about planting seeds you can’t see yet, trusting that God is already at work beneath the surface.Before I share it, here’s a glimpse of how the Kingdom is growing here:Discovery Groups: The Simple RevolutionImagine a small group — spiritually curious people gathered under a mango tree, around a kitchen table, in a hot living room. No professional preacher. No flannelgraph. No lectures. Just hearts leaning in.Each group reads a short Scripture passage, then wrestles with five simple questions:What does this say about God?What does this say about people?If this is true, how will I obey?Who will I share this story with?What step will I take this week?Obedience is the goal. Reproduction is the DNA. And anyone — even a brand-new believer — can start another group.When I (Rick) first heard about Discovery Groups, I thought our churches would be thrilled. Some were. Some weren’t. Jesus explained the concept of soil to us in Mark 4. Some seeds thrive. Some don’t. And the Kingdom grows.

Maria’s Story: “Seeds Whisper Through the Soil”(Told in Maria’s own words)

The afternoon heat wrapped around me like a heavy blanket as I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt, waiting. Parrots flashed green through the açai trees. The smell of rain, earth, and fresh bread filled the streets.I’m Maria, from a little town along the Amazon. Maybe you’ve heard it said, “God calls the brave”? I wasn’t brave. Not at first.Discovery Groups sounded beautiful in theory. But when I started my first group, it felt awkward and slow. Some smiled politely. Others turned away. Some days I felt like a failure.But seeds don’t shout their growth — they whisper through the soil.One woman I met had heavy problems — more than I could fix. But I could listen. I could show up. Week by week, she softened. She told me she no longer felt alone.I wanted to quit so many times. I’m a teenager — working, studying, exhausted. Every Saturday I fought the voice that said, “You’re too small for this.” But on the other side of obedience, I found fierce joy.One girl, Flora, used to disappear when I came. But I kept knocking. I kept loving. Someday, I believed, the seed would crack open.And it is.One woman who barely spoke now reads the Bible aloud, smiling through trembling hands. She even gave me a little gift — a token I carry in my heart.Discovery Groups work — but only if you do.You don’t have to be special. You just have to plant the seeds and trust the whisper.If I can do this — sweaty, mosquito-bitten, laughed at, forgotten — you can too.Go ahead.Knock on that door.Plant that seed.Watch what God will grow.

A Photo that Speaks

Naldo, from Porto de Moz, returned from a river mission where 30 people gave their hearts to Jesus. Along the way, flocks of egrets flew ahead of his boat, leading him like angels through the jungle waters.  The next phase will be to help these new believers grow, gathering them into self-sustaining, self-feeding churches.

Glimpses of God’s Work Around Us

As we stayed at Steve and Elba’s house to welcome Olivia, Zack, and Ellis from the airport, we saw another story unfolding. They are planting a church in our state capital city, approximately nine hours’ drive from our house. When Olivia was as young as Ellis is now, Elba came to live with us — a chapter that shaped all our lives.

Belem Church: Elba, who once lived with us as a teenager, now preaches with boldness and grace.

Marabá Church: Brazilians pour their souls into expressive dances, investing in beauty to express worship.

Family!Yeah! for Olivia, Zack, and Ellis. God sent us the perfect gift for this week.

The Tree of Life

“On either side of the river was the tree of life, bearing twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations” (NASB, Rev 22:2).In Centering Prayer, it is pear season. I keep seeing low-hanging fruit in the form of a giant red pear on the Tree of Life. The delicious and satisfying fruit has a name: “Patience. Endurance. Resilience.”There is more than enough for whatever you’re facing today.

🙏 Prayer Points🙏 Deanna: Complete healing, peace, and clarity for next steps 🙏 Our Family: Grace for the transition back to Canada 🙏 Travel Protection: For Olivia, Zack, and Ellis in Brazil 🙏 Ministry: For Discovery Groups to multiply — finding the “People of Peace” who will ignite new communities of obedience and joy.(Hit “Reply” if you’d like us to pray for you, too!)

May this be your best week yet. We’re praying you encounter God’s abundance in new ways this week. With grace, Rick & Deanna P.S. Even in deserts, seeds are whispering. Even in faraway rivers, angels are leading. Even now, a highway of holiness is rising — paved by prayer, by perseverance, by the footsteps of ordinary saints willing to knock on one more door, plant one more seed, love one more soul. We’re walking it with you — together, hand in hand with the One who turns wilderness into singing. “And a highway will be there; it will be called the Way of Holiness; it will be for those who walk on that Way… But only the redeemed will walk there, and those the Lord has rescued…” (Isaiah 35:8-10)

Even in the valley of uncertainty, we are anchored by the One who overcame death.

Early this Easter Sunday morning, Olivia (our second daughter), Zack, and baby Ellis arrived in Brazil to spend 20 days with us.Their arrival couldn’t have come at a better time.

Our Hope Isaiah 8:12–13 “You are not to say, ‘It is a conspiracy!’ Regarding everything that this people call a conspiracy, And you are not to fear what they fear or be in dread of it. It is the LORD of armies whom you are to regard as holy. And He shall be your fear, And He shall be your dread.” Wait… dread? Why would a loving Father be described as someone to dread?Isaiah was addressing a nation gripped by fear and swirling conspiracies. The people were anxious—worried about their freedoms, fortunes, and futures.Sound familiar? Where We Place Our TrustAs I’ve been reading through 1 and 2 Kings, a pattern jumped out: Most of the kings failed. Why? Two root sins: misplaced trust and entitlement. Beware of DriftIt’s so easy to drift. To let fear shape our compass. To get disoriented. To subtly shift our trust from God to self, to systems, to security.But when your life depends on your compass being true, even the smallest deviation matters. If you’re sailing from Eastern Canada and your bearing is just a bit off—you could end up in an entirely different country.How much more does this matter for our eternal bearings?Realigning the HeartAsk yourself:What fills me with dread?What would I sacrifice everything for?What moves me most when everything else is quiet?Your answers will show you where your compass is pointing.Isaiah pointed out that when our deepest dread is in displeasing the God who loves us—who delights in helping us up when we fall—then we are aligned.

DeannaMany of you saw our prayer update on Good Friday. Deanna received a cancer diagnosis this week.We’re still absorbing it. It feels like our whole family was thrown into the deep end of the pool without warning.And yet—we are not alone. Your prayers mean more than words can say.

Celebrating Easter in the StormThat same afternoon, our home filled with laughter and life: Easter egg hunts, roasted wieners, and kids running everywhere.What a contrast—sorrow and joy, diagnosis and reunion, fear and hope. But isn’t that what Easter is all about?Death does not get the final word. Love does. Resurrection does.

Do you remember the wonders, sadnesses, and joys of this age? It’s all preparation for increased influence and responsibility.

Lucy and Paul

Training to be an expressive Nielsen/Bergen girl.

Photos that Speak

I was standing by our gate earlier this week when a man across the street—clearly drunk and unfamiliar to me—started shouting and waving. I watched him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. He kept pointing, louder and more animated. I turned around, unsure what he was trying to show me. And there it was—a rainbow stretched across the sky, arching over our mango trees. I took out my phone and snapped this photo. Now I can’t help but wonder… was that really a drunk?

I’ve been thinking about this image all week. Do you ever wonder how the wind can blow in two directions at once?God often moves in ways we can’t predict—or explain. Our part is to trust His training.We’ve dodged more bullets than we can count over the years. Some we’re aware of—like the time doctors told us our newborn had hepatitis B. “She’ll need lifelong medication and liver biopsies every six months,” one specialist warned. Another time, a practitioner suggested cancer. One of our daughters was gravely ill for 18 days—we crisscrossed Belém running tests, hearing phrases like, “We’re ruling out the big stuff.” And we may never know the many times God protected us of which we were oblivious.Through it all, we’ve seen God’s steady hand. Again and again, when we walk in the light we’ve been given, He makes a way.

Can you see these plants bursting with joy at their ability to shine for their creator?

Last night, we had supper with friends who moved to Altamira with us, back in 1996, at the beginning of the Vineyard Church in Northern Brazil. So many memories, so much to be grateful for.

May this be your best week yet. We’re praying you encounter His abundance afresh this week. With grace, Rick & Deanna

An Unexpected Turn –Dear friends,Early this morning, around 2 a.m., we received unexpected and difficult news: the pathologist confirmed that Deanna has breast cancer. We were shocked—but also grateful that Deanna has been diligent with her annual checkups.As we write this, it’s Good Friday. Tomorrow (Saturday), we’ll drive to Belém to pick up Olivia, Zack, and baby Ellis. We also look forward to visiting Clenildo, Angelita, Steve, and Elba.We have an appointment with a cancer specialist next Thursday or Friday, and we’ll know more about next steps after that.In the midst of this, Psalm 23:4 has been close to our hearts:“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”God has delivered us from so many trials over the years, and we’re praying that His healing and deliverance will come swiftly once again.Your prayers and friendship mean the world to us. Thank you for standing with us.With hope and gratitude, Rick & Deanna

The Ripe Harvest While we were in Portugal, Clenildo and a team of Brazilian missionaries ventured up remote rivers they had never traveled before. Clenildo recounted his adventure to me (Note: I changed the names of all the people except Clenildo). “I wasn’t ready for what we’d find at the end of the Guajará River.We set out with one goal: to bring the Gospel where it had never been heard. To ensure no one was left behind, we started at the farthest point upriver—from the end backward. Our journey took us to Iuliuí, Guajará, and the Curumini River, through narrow, twisting waterways under a searing sun.And there, in a remote clearing barely etched into the jungle, we met Ivaldo. “No one’s ever come this far,” he told us. He gave us shelter and helped us go further still.After hours of traveling up the narrowing river, we reach our goal—Marrudo, they called him—the “last man.” He wept as he gave his life to Jesus. The man before him had already surrendered, too. We realized then—we hadn’t missed a soul. But God wasn’t done.At a schoolhouse downstream, the entire class—students and teachers—gave their lives to Christ. In another village, a man named Evando, sick and waiting five years for prayer, was healed and threw away his crutches on the spot.By the time we reached the Curumini, we met Wanderson—another who had never heard the name of Jesus. That changed in a moment.In ten days, ninety-three people stepped from darkness into light.We came home exhausted… and filled with joy. There’s still so much more to do—but heaven is rejoicing, and so are we.” 📝 Pray with us for the follow-up: Now that relationships have begun, Clenildo and the team are returning to introduce Discovery Bible Studies (DBS) and Disciple Making Movements (DMM). In remote areas like this, it’s essential that new believers grow in faith in ways that don’t rely on constant outside input. Really, that’s true everywhere—and especially here.

Since the Cristovão Retreat in February—when Clyde and Kelsie, along with Phil and Jen, came to minister—the Marabá Church has felt a fresh wind of the Spirit. New baptisms, the birth of small groups, and a rise in attendance are reminding us: the gospel moves in waves. It surges, pauses, and then surges again—like the seasons of life. Always changing. Always advancing to the next season.📖 Hosea 10:12 (NLT) “Plant the good seeds of righteousness, and you will harvest a crop of love. Plow up the hard ground of your hearts, for now is the time to seek the Lord.”

Thank you Douglas, for this photo!

A Spiritually Dryer Climate

Dirk Willems – A Hero of the Faith

Dirk Willems: A Legacy of Costly Compassion  But what about the spiritually dry places?Not all fields seem fertile. Sometimes, the ground feels hardened, or the culture indifferent. But even there, God is at work…In 1569, Dirk Willems, a Dutch Anabaptist, ran for his life across a frozen lake. His pursuer—a thief-catcher—fell through the ice. In a moment of profound mercy, Dirk turned back and pulled the man to safety. The officer wanted to release him, but authorities intervened. Dirk was imprisoned, tortured, and ultimately burned at the stake for his faith.Today, a bronze statue in Steinbach, Manitoba, honors Dirk’s courageous act—reminding us that love for one’s enemy often comes at great cost.Now consider the contrast.In Dirk’s world, religion was used to silence dissenters. In Northern Brazil today, villages plead for someone to come and share the gospel. Europe built majestic cathedrals while executing quiet saints like Dirk. And yet, even in the darkest corners of history, God had His faithful—humble men and women who lived wholly for the Kingdom.Reflection QuestionsHow wholehearted is your walk with God right now? What distractions or detours have crept in quietly over time? What would it take to clear the way again?Where is God calling you to focus? It’s tempting to say, “Where the need feels greatest.” But in God’s Kingdom, there’s enough grace, calling, and power for both the hungry and the hardened.👉 Take a moment to ask: Lord, where do You want me to focus right now?

The laughter of children playing in our yard stirs memories of those golden years when our own filled this space with joy. Life moves swiftly—and just as we start to understand one season, we’re already stepping into the next. But when we give our best to the season we’re in, the good memories stack up—and life becomes all the richer.

Milton and Lu, Rick and Deanna, Helen and Michael “The Portugal Survey Trip”