Excerpt from a thank you letter sent out to supporters of my November mission trip to Fortaleza, Brazil

What were 11 gringos doing several thousand miles and one hemisphere away from home that they couldn't do in their own town? Here are a few thoughts:

-Giving a needed boost to the hard work of the long-term missionaries.

-Showing love to kids and adults who can't get over the fact that we "clean, wealthy Americans" would not only spend time with them, but touch them and hug them and play with them and get dirty working with them. They couldn't help but wonder why we weren't spending our two weeks on one of their beautiful beaches instead.

-Expanding our view of reality by seeing God at work in another culture. I like what Brian, our team leader, said: "God is a Brazilian." Obviously, He's far more than that, but that statement did a good job getting the point across.

-Learning what true Christianity is by seeing what it is not.

-Fulfilling the Great Commission.

All of the above began on November 5. We escaped an encroaching autumn and entered a land of year-round summer—at least by North American standards. The rainy season had ended a few weeks prior, and we found it hard to believe that Fortaleza had been even greener than it already was when we arrived.

Our bus driver, Cesar, took us from the airport to the home of Bill and Erika Moore—six walled acres in the middle of a favela (slum). That was to be our headquarters for the next two weeks while we went out to many slums in Fortaleza and did our ministry.

Here's how a typical day of ministry looked: Wake up at 6:30. Take a cold shower (which we welcomed in the equatorial heat). Breakfast together at 7:00, which included fresh fruits and fruit juices that have now spoiled me for even the best farmer's markets in California. My favorite juices were passion fruit and cashew. After breakfast, we would board the bus and Cesar would skillfully avoid potholes, bumps, dogs, pedestrians, motorcycles, and families on bicycles as he took us to ministry areas such as Projeto Graca, or Grupo CEO, or Maracanau, or Creres. The eager children often arrived before we did. Most didn't attend school, and where their parents were, we could only guess. Some mothers, we learned, were on the streets, selling themselves.

We usually began our time with the children by singing and dancing with them. To my surprise, the song-accompanying hand motions I had feared learning actually came rather easily (once you know three or four, you just about know them all). In addition to that, here are some of the stations we set up every day:

-Hair Washing

-Lice Treatment (I suspect I may now need that myself!)

-Hair Cutting

-Tooth Brush Training, complete with chocolate candies to simulate dirty teeth

After all of those things came the Puppet Show, which the kids always loved more than anything else. In our best Portuguese, we would deliver the gospel message from behind a curtain with Sesame Street-esque puppets. The puppets would explain the significance of each colored bead on the "Pulseira de Boas Novas"—the Bracelet of Good News. Gold stood for Heaven. Black stood for the barrier between humanity and Heaven, which is Sin. Red stood for the Blood of Christ, which serves as the means by which Sin can be conquered. White stood for Purification, which comes as a result of trusting in Christ's sacrifice. Green stood for Growth and new life as a new creation in Christ. After the presentation, the kids would line up for bracelets and we would tie them on their "sweaty little wrists" (to quote Brian again).

I have never seen poorer children. Neither have I seen happier ones. Perhaps their joy was in part due to the novelty of being with foreigners, and perhaps it waned once we left, but I can't help but think there was something more to it.

I especially knew the trip was worth it during our second week in Brazil. We had spent two days at Lar Da Paz (Land of Peace), a rehabilitation center run by a married couple. The original intent was to use that space as an area to continue doing our ministry with local children. What we didn't expect was that the Lord would use us to impact the lives of older men. After two days with a group of 20 or 30 you-name-it addicts and former criminals, one of them, speaking for the group, said to me in broken English, "All of you tattooed our lives." He meant it with the kind of sincerity that makes you want to glance away lest you become too emotional.

We had had the privilege of doing construction with them, playing soccer with them, worshiping the Lord through dance together, and even washing their feet. Apparently, this made a significant impact. However, what everyone on our mission team realized was that these broken men had inked an equally significant tattoo on our own lives. Each member of our team rejoiced that God had taken these men and changed their lives in such a way that only a supernatural explanation would suffice. Yet with each testimony, we saw ever more deeply the significance of our own salvation. Most of us weren't former criminals, but we were all once slaves to sin, and God delivered each of us with an equally miraculous act.

During our time in Brazil, the Lord timed it so that we saw the seeds of salvation sprout in five different people with whom we had contact. We may hear of more fruit in weeks to come, but the bulk of it probably won't be known until Heaven. Though you weren't physically there, I know many of you were "there" in prayer. That means a lot to me. God is so powerful that He can connect us in our service by means of prayer. You produced fruit, and one day, if you are His, you will partake in that with indescribable joy.