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Choir - Alcantara Size: 119k

FBC Alcantara Size: 110k

Pastor - FBC Alcantara Size: 76k

SMNCT at FBC Alcantara Size: 122k

CHRIST STATUE, CABLE CARS, CACOPHONIES, & CONCERTS

I hope you pray for us—53 singers, 5 medical specialists, and 16 wives (or 53+4+16+my wife, Debbie, who is also a nurse and counts as both wife and medical team member)—as we go about our tasks here in a land that needs Christ desperately. There is perhaps no greater need that we have than to know that all of your prayers are hitting the ears of our great and mighty God while the notes and words of our music impact the ears of the listeners, combining to crescendo into the wave of Holy Spirit activity that can change lives and effect them with eternal consequences. There is no greater joy that we can experience in this time of international outreach than to see God moving among His people here in these places.

The morning breakfast was comparatively vast. Fresh juices (not as sweet as the typical American pallet would desire), breakfast meats including bacon, ham and sausages were added to freshly scrambled eggs, sweet breads and morning potatoes—not counting the more native delicacies for those desirous of dietary experimentation. A few yawns punctuated the breakfast chatter as the 8:00 am bus boarding time came a little earlier than some desired. With this being a national holiday in Brazil (so named Tira Den Tes in honor of a martyred abolitionist that wanted to free the slaves in the 1700’s and keep the money that was flowing out of Brazil to Portugal in the country), the entire group was to spend the morning sight seeing. Our two primary destinations are the world famous statue Christ Redeemer that overlooks the city and the mountain that guards the entrance of the harbor, named Sugarloaf Mountain as it is shaped like a cone of sugar that was familiar to the sailors who first laid eyes upon it.

The typical tropical day starts out with a fairly clear sky, but soon begins to cloud up as the day progresses. Rain storms are common for the late afternoon and early evening hours. (We even had some as our concert was beginning last night at the Fonseca Baptist Church.) The beginning trip to the area of the statue that is called Corcovado was redeemed by a group picture that got sent with yesterday’s report. On the way, we learn that there are some 300,000 native Indians still present in Rio today with 20 singular languages still being spoken. We ascended to the summit of the mountain via an electric tram. Not knowing that there were switches that needed to be moved in order for us to continue up the track elicited a brief concern about our brief stop on the tracks. And viewing the tilted glimpse of the city below through tropical plants that barely survive in our homes in Texas, you realize that it is not the city that is tilted, but the angle of the tram that warps your sense of judgment. Finally, the summit was attained after a 20/25 minute trip. It was not too long after the group picture was snapped by John Bell (sent yesterday) that the entire mountain top was obscured by clouds which prevented further photos. After a quick trip down the mountainside, the group re-boarded busses and made their way across town to go up to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain.

As this particular mountain top experience was lower than the first, and due to the isolation of the mountain in the overall topography of the city, a two part cable car trip (versus a tram) transported us up, suspending up to 70 people at a time above the smooth rock and densely vegetated mountain. Again, we arrived in clear weather, and after most of us grabbed a quick bite to eat at the local fast-food pavilion, we exited the mountain in obscurity. While I was waiting for the crowd to reassemble to transport down the cable car, I got to stop and listen to the myriad umber of languages being spoken about me. I heard, almost surely, French, German, Japanese, Spanish and Portuguese being hurled about by those prepared to appreciate only their own language. It seemed, just for a brief moment, that God had re-created the Tower of Babel in our midst. We then returned to the hotel for a brief respite of some 90 minutes.

The trip across the long bay bridge to our next church for concert was peppered with both conversations and the occasional snore. Long days on a mission trip are common, but with precious little time thus far for personal reverie and recuperation, energy levels seem to be at low ebb. As we were stopped at one of the intersections, young boys and girls (one even with a bandaged right hand) would juggle green tennis balls in a single hand outside our busses. They would take up positions directly in front of the bus hoping for payment for their services until the signal bade us proceed.

We have journeyed farther than the Fonseca trip of yesterday to the First Baptist Church of Alcântara, located in São Gonçalo about 26 km from Rio de Janeiro. The smell of our garlic-flavored evening meals wafts down the incline as we shuffle past to gain entrance into this church. Small and joyous eyes peek out from the tiny kitchen preparation are as we move past in double file accord. The hanger-shaped sanctuary is again loud and boisterous as SMOT men rearrange the stage, move the piano, set up the bells and have (now timely) help provided to us for setting up the sound system. One of our men, Jim Clayman of FBC Mineral Wells has brought along his piano tuning tools and with astounding concentration is performing and impromptu tuning on the grand piano. The sounds of handbells compete for his attention, but he presses on as sure of his mission as Paul was for the Athenians. The ladies of our group have gathered to one side, and should they prepare for the concert in the same manner as last night, they will pray for both the musicians as well as the guests that God brings into our presentation tonight. The drumset is added to the cacophony of SMOT’ers engaging in chain back-rubs as they pass the time awaiting the appearance of Don Blackley to lead us into more harmonious and organized presentation of musical effort. And still, the altered pings of the tuner press on through the din. (At this point, I store my laptop computer for safekeeping with Kathy Hunt, one of our faithful and beautiful wives, the better half of David from Garland.)

After a brief warm-up, the full group enjoyed another tremendous meal of roast pork, white rice, potatoes, a side vegetable dish medley and a ground root called parofa, an accoutrement that takes on the flavor of the food to which it is applied. The pork is most likely a national dish called londeaux. Served with soft drinks and water, it is followed with late additions of sweet watermelon and thinly sliced pineapple. Again, with SMOT members singing for our meal to the 15 or 18 ladies that both prepared and served it brought tears to the eyes of several upon whom our musical lauds were heaped. The unscripted side notes of a backstage uniform change into our tuxedoes (as this building is sweetly cooled by multiple air conditioners) includes harmonized repetitions of Happy Birthday for the several among us who had birthdays both today and yesterday.

The concert begins with a handbell prelude, and moves quickly into a classical guitar solo by guest artist Rodrigo Rodriguez. His fingers fly over the neck and strings of his guitar while haunting sounds of taped accompaniment surround the senses with Latin rhythms, chords and melodies. Well… I am off to sing! More later… The concert has turned out to be much more than our standard 75 or 80 minute affair, lasting an entire 2 ½ hours. And it even proved to be not for the faint of heart—literally, as a man was carried out from the rear of the congregation with an ashen white color. (It is my prayer that he receives quick and expert attention. Most of our medical crew chose to stay back at the hotel and rest up for their extremely early AM departure on Thursday morning, their first day at the clinic.) The concert was scripted by our hosts to be more of a worship service than just our concert. It was begun with welcomes and congregational hymns: Alleluia! Alleluia! (Beethoven’s Ode to Joy/9th Symphony theme), and Holy, Holy, Holy, antiphonally offered in Portuguese and English. Next, it was distinct honor to listen to this church’s own male chorus who blessed us with two selections before we began our own concert. The concert was shortened by the omission of our last two songs due to the fervent and extended appeal to the people for decisions for Christ. Again, six or seven apparent decisions were made for the Lord!

Musical highlights from the concert include:

Trent Blackley’s encouragement of the congregation to join with him—and their response—as we sang our own uniquely arranged “Wonderful Grace of Jesus.”

An unbelievably stirring arrangement of “Via Dolorosa” by Rodrigo Rodriguez on guitar; his presentation included the addition of a drumming part he played on his same solo instrument along with the wave notes.

The amazing recognition and ensuing worship with an Australian born composer’s contemporary praise anthem “Shout to the Lord” by both the Brazilian and American Christians… There was no sound barrier here, and the language barrier was shattered with praise lifting softly under the vibrant strings a master musician (again Rodrigo) to our God in heaven.

And the final song that was actually offered to us by the congregation as thanks for our service of praise as the church staff moved through the body of the SMOT choir shaking hands and offering hugs.

Home, pillows, late night snacks, and relaxed conversations await the faithful singers as they listen to the description of our mostly free day tomorrow. We close the day with testimonies and share time on the bumpy ride back to Rio. Chuck Bridwell, our president, shared that the pastor of the church was so moved during a post-concert meeting that his tears and kiss on his cheek witnessed volumes about his sincerity. Charles Mayo expressed thanks for the typical graciousness of the Brazilian people quoting the example of an older, smaller woman who literally excised the keyboard stand from his grip to help him carry it to the waiting bus. And finally, Stephen Passmore testified mightily of the support that this group gave him, turning his life and ministry around to the praise and glory of God. As Chuck offers the day’s benediction, we all privately assent: “Amen, amen and even more amen!”

Charles Ashley, Journalist
John Bell, Photographer
(with thanks to Rex Campbell from the BGCT for additional shots)

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