Best I recall, from what’s written in my copy of “Now That I’m a Christian,” stored somewhere in my parents’ attic, I was baptized on Jan. 10, 1971. The date of my life. For all that, in my readings last week, something caught my eye in Mark 4 that I’d never noticed before. Learning never stops.
For the second Sunday in a row, when we arrived this afternoon at Taubate for church, Humberto asked me if he could preach. His mother-in-law and sister-in-law are visiting. The first is a spiritist, I believe; the latter an erring Christian. He wanted to speak words that would point them in the right direction.
Humberto’s lessons are a selection of verses and his comments and illustrations. Simple, but effective. He’s military, not yet 30, so has stories about conversations with his colleagues. He knows how to apply them to make you think.
Since I wasn’t preaching, I wound up giving the Lord’s supper meditation. Jorge led singing, Haroldo directed the offering. It’s good to have more than two or three to help out. Ademir and family are still traveling, Ricardo and Marilia still yet to move to Taubate.
Last week we got moved into the big conference room at the hotel and the new events director said we could use it from now on. Upside: it’s air conditioners work better. Today would have been a killer, with the extreme heat, if we’d had to meet in the other room.
Jorge, Paula and Daniel came home with us for lunch today. (We all go both to SJCampos and Taubate churches.) Vicki had most things prepared and ready. I copied Jorge’s pictures of our trip together on to my Mac and copied my pics onto his pen drive. Paula’s turn today to pig out on Leila’s brownies and ice cream.
I was glad to see Humberto preaching. More preachers and teachers mean more fruit for the kingdom. And, perhaps, maybe time to think of starting somewhere else. Down the road in Pinda, maybe?
The mission never ends. In this life, anyway.