This is my response to what I heard from the President last night. 😭

What Did He See?

By Ivanildo C. Trindade

I saw a group of people armed with torches, echoing the words from the graves of forgotten haters, but what did he see?

I saw symbols proudly displayed, emblems of division from an era now condemned by all people of good will, but what did he see?

I saw a car leap forward like a blunt instrument, driven by nothing but a desire to inflict pain, but what did he see?

I saw men in pathetic uniforms, pretending to be heroes of a war in which the losing side seems to be hungry for a rematch, but what did he see? 

I saw the anguished looks on the faces of bystanders forced to remember the atrocities committed against their ancestors, but what did he see? 

I saw confusion and chaos, grief and lament for a time when little children could still be spared the rod of racial bigotry, but what did he see?

Were we looking at the same image or did our brain waves go haywire as they went from plasma to persuasion?

We are left to wonder whether what is seen is the real deal or only what we choose to see. 

Is this ‘selecting seeing’ a new type of moral imperative for those too lazy to bend to the canons of common sense?

Did we see the same thing or do we simply have two sets of eyes — one irrevocably bent to scan the cry of solitary humans and another, burdened by a drive for self-preservation, which renders the owner incapable of noticing the river of tears already flooding our cities?

While the ancients said you have to see in order to believe, what irony such times bring — that one sees but refuses to believe while claiming everyone else sees what he sees. Or at least they ought to. 

To reset the order of the cosmos, shouldn’t we at least demand to know what for the love of God did he truly see?

August 16, 2017


I was honored to preach at Celebrate Christ Church today. If you would like to watch some (or all of it), please click on the link below:

In a world marked by easy connectivity and rapid mobility, we tend to forget the beauty of the concept of “home.” Ask a typical young person today where home is and chances are they will not know what to tell you. Home could be where you spent most of your life, where you went to college or where you met your now husband. But mostly, when we speak of “home,” we are talking about the place of our childhood, sometimes even the physical place where you spent your formative years — a house,  city, a farm. But mostly, home is where your strongest affections still reside. As they like to say, “home is where your heart is.”

Followers of Christ often make the mistake of living as if the current zip code where they now receive their mail is their permanent dwelling place. Without realizing it, they make preparations to stay here and thus lose the joy of anticipation for heaven. In fact, heaven becomes an after thought, very much like a trailer attached to the luxury SUV in which you travel comfortably to your vacation spot. Instead of a dstination, heaven becomes a fading imagination; instead of longing for it and bringing the reality of it into our mostly mundane existence, we fix our eyes on the stuff of earth and fail to see the luxury of heaven. We live for 9 to 5 when we should be looking for eternity. 

Having been born overseas, I understand very well the reality of living in one place while longing for another. That, to me, is the ultimate calling of every Christ-follower — fully engaged here while fully excited about the hearafter. 

I still remember the first time our whole family went back to Brazil after being in the U.S. for a few years. For months we talked about it. We spent endless hours packing and made many trips to stores in order to buy gifts for our relatives. As we got closer to the big day, the excitement only grew. We were pulling many all-nighters, spreading things all over the house, being more lax with the children’s bed time, and (gasp!) eating microwaveable food. 

None of this, however, mattered to us. And for one simple reason: We were going home! And when you are going home you savor every moment leading up to the big trip with extraordinary anticipation. We talk about some of the things we will do as soon as we got there, we make lists of people we have to see, foods we have to eat, places we have to visit. We get simply consumed with the thought of going home and it’s okay.

Later, as I pondered on that experience, I thought: Wow, if this is true of going home to be reunited momentarily with our earthly family, how much more should we get excited about being forever united with our Father and our beloved Messiah, Jesus Christ? We should be shouting for joy right now at the thought of going to heaven and living today, as the old hymn says, as one who is passing through, only on business for the King. But are we?

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’” (Revelation 21:1-4). 

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade

Those who know me will know that I am very people oriented. I can’t help it: I love being with people. They challenge me, they make me laugh, they energize me. 

But the one thing I am not a big fan of in people is this general tendency they have of volunteering categorical opinions of one another to each other. Now, I don’t mind if people opine about your looks, your temperament, even your work style, but there are people who think they have broken the code when it comes to the core of your calling — the things that make your heart pound hard and skip a beat when you are in reverent attention in the sight of God. That, my friends, is a sacred space, reserved only for you and God; no one else is allowed in there and thus people on the outside are generally clueless. In fact, often, what you decide to do will not make sense to the majority of people around you. Because following God’s calling is not a popularity contest. 

Case in point: one of the narratives about my recent job experience was that I am passionate about evangelism, compassionate about “the least of these,” and eager to help the broken-hearted. So far, so good, but it doesn’t stop there. The implication was that something was missing. So to try to explain that, remarks were offered: “He would make a great missionary. “He will find a role as a mission or evangelism pastor somewhere where he will be a lot more comfortable,” etc. Those things may very well be true but does this brace the whole sum of a person’s calling? These are all good things, but are they “the most excellent things,” the things that “God prepared beforehand for us to do”? And with what authority does one make those types of statements?

You see, when people pontificate about one’s calling, it’s the equivalent of intuiting that they know what God’s will for your life is. So, what was once an opinion, now graduates to the level of grand proclamations. They are repeated ad infinitum. And things that are repeated often enough give birth to “facts.” That, by the way, could be a good definition of “fake news.” To make themselves feel better, people will now, categorically, if not condescendingly, say: “He shouldn’t do X; he should do Y.” 

I reject that entire practice as bunk. Yes, it’s true that we each have unique personalities, skills, training, strengths and weaknesses. But God’s calling in one’s life is so much more than “unique” or “personal.” It speaks to that intangible part of your soul — the core of your being. And that’s why I called it “the core of our calling” in the opening paragraph. No one, except the person being called, knows exactly what that calling is and sometimes even the person being called does not know precisely how to explain it. God’s calling is supernatural and supernaturally enabled. 

Moses thought he was slow of speech for a prophet. Jeremiah seemed to think he was too young. Amos was a sheep herder and a sycamore fig farmer. He didn’t even dare call himself a prophet. David wasn’t even brought from the fields to be presented to the prophet Samuel, along with his brothers, as a potential future king of Israel — no one even bothered to think of him who was just a little boy tending sheep. John, the baptizer, was seen as an eccentric, if not as a madman. Mary was a fragile teenager in whose womb the hope of mankind would rest. 

In my own personal life, the missionary who had the greatest impact in my life as a young man in Brazil, because he hit the field at a later age in life, was the one who spoke the worst Portuguese of the bunch. The one who was mocked by his peers is now famous in heaven because of the difference he made in the lives of people like me.

All those people, if God had taken a poll or even informally asked the opinions of their peers about whether He should give them the responsibilities He did would probably never get the job. Such is the nature of people — we look at the book cover and think we already know how good the author is based solely on a clever title, a photograph or a computer generated design.

Paul may have been thinking of this when he wrote these words: “Remember, dear brothers and sisters, that few of you were wise in the world’s eyes or powerful or wealthy when God called you. Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful. God chose things despised by the world, things counted as nothing at all, and used them to bring to nothing what the world considers important. As a result, no one can ever boast in the presence of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:26-29). 

I guess the practical implication for all of us is this: be very careful not to go around pontificating about what God’s calling on another person’s life should or should not be. When asked to give an opinion, feel free to share, but don’t call to yourself a role that belongs to God and to the individual involved. I can categorically say: that’s NOT your calling in life!

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade

While sorting and packing my books yesterday, I found this old box with the words “Trusting God.” At first, I didn’t remember when and why I had written those words on that box. But before I went to bed, I remembered.

A couple of years ago, I preached a series on worrying. I ended the series with an appeal for our people to write out their worries and come forward to throw them inside what I called “the worry box.” By doing that, they were symbolically surrendering their worries to God. 

So, today, it’s my turn to use “the worry box” in light of recent drastic changes in our lives. And my list is extensive at this point in my life.

Will any of the conversations I’m having turn into a job opportunity for me? Where will we finding housing now that our income is dropping by 50%? Is it time for a complete change of vocation for me? What should we pack, give away, sell, toss, etc., now that we will have to downsize significantly? Where would the ideal temporary place of residence be until I find a permanent job? Since I’m planning to go school in the fall, would it be better for us to stay in the area for a while? How’s this move going to impact my son? How about his future plans for education, marriage, etc.? Will we be able to see clearly through the mist and pain where God is leading us?

These are some of the unanswered questions, why not say “worries,” that I am dealing with right now. So, I’m symbolically throwing them into “the worry box” today and trusting God to take care of them. That’s a practical way to cast my anxieties on Him. The Bible says He cares for me. May I never doubt that. 

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade

Minimizing Your Suffering

A good friend, who has had a front roll seat to my recent travails, after reading my previous post, told me to that he thought I didn’t do justice to the severity of my losses. 

If I did that, it was by no means intentional. Minimizing suffering — whether yours or your neighbor’s — is never helpful, and especially for someone who, is seeking some measure of healing for his soul through sharing his story. But we must be careful not to overdue it. Even our lamentation must come with moderation.

My friend pointed out Paul’s lists of hardships, as if to say that “if it was good enough for the good Apostle, it must be good enough for you.” Indeed, at least on two occasions, Paul gives us some pretty disturbing accounts of the kind of trials he had to face as a follower of Christ, including such things as torture, famine and stoning. 

Paul’s list in 2 Corinthians 11:16-33 would in those days be a bad tool for any recruiter trying to convince soldiers to join the ranks of the ‘Christian army.’ Imagine the scene: “Before you sign your contract, you need to see this video of the greatest missionary that ever lived talking about his exploits for Christ. Roll it!” By the time it was over, potential recruits would be bolting for the exit. And modern-day evangelists would be left wondering: “whatever happened to the whole part about God having “a wonderful plan” for my life?

But like I told my friend, I am no Apostle Paul. The first part of my first name means ‘John’ and my last name means ‘Trinity,’ but as far as I know, there is already a best friend of Jesus named John and there is no vacancy in the Trinity, which makes me feel a little sheepish sharing the details of my sufferings. 

But there are other (serious) reasons for my reticence. Even Paul, in the passage I just mentioned, only acted when he was provoked by some bragging by his opponents that was unfair and not based on facts. Twice, Paul speaks of how irregular his kind of response was. Before he starts with his litany of suffering, he says he’s speaking like a fool. When he gets into it, he quite bluntly says that only a madman talks the way he’s talking. There is a warning there to tread lightly. 

Another reason is that it is nearly impossible to be specific about my desert-like experience, while isolating it from the people who were responsible for the decision that put me in that position. No matter how objective I might try to be, people will work overtime to discover connections to individuals who were part some recent decisions in my life. In this small universe in which I live, it would be easy for someone to go on a witch hunt. Beware: even your well intended laments can potentially turn into a libel against people you would never intentionally want to hurt. In the end, your words may become fodder for innuendos and speculations. I’m having none of that.

That is not to say that the pain isn’t real or personal. Believe me, it’s the real thing and it is extremely personal but for that very reason, I have to remember that when I try to describe it it’s like seeing things through my own set of 3-D glasses. Humans don’t simply react to experiences, they interpret them, attribute value to them and often assign blame. It’s enough that I do that in my own head — believe me, I am no saint! — so I will choose to spare you from an ugly display of my own propensity to carnality by not speaking ill of my detractors. 

Speaking of carnality, when we go around “sharing our troubles,” if we are not careful, we end up often serving some red meat, whether we intended to do it or not. And that’s what so many people crave for, isn’t it? We are surrounded by people who dream of seeing others air their dirty laundry! I have been goaded to serve red meat on a silver platter, but I keep asking myself: what would that prove except perhaps that I might be an old fool that can’t move beyond an offense?

Again, this is not saying that there isn’t stuff bleeding in my ‘fridge.’ The events surrounding the loss of my job have enough red meat in them to allow me to open a thriving meat market. But what would the point be? By now the meat is all spoiled and only the vultures would relish it. 

No, I am not giving you any red meat. But that doesn’t mean that I might not indulge in some foolishness like Paul did. So, in order to satisfy my friend who has been in the mud with me, I will give you not red meat but a little bit of the vinegar mixed with gull (of much better quality than the one they served Jesus) we have been given to drink. 

As part of our suffering, my wife and I have done a fair amount of crying, of the type we had not experienced since the loss of our first son. The first couple of months we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Weekends were especially hard, sleeping was nearly impossible and the false alarm of the Sunday morning anticipation kept ambushing me mercilessly. To give you an idea, it was the first time in twenty five plus years that I was not involved in some aspect — planning and/or speaking — of an Easter Sunday. Talk about a very ironic way to mark the occasion of the sufferings of the Messiah. Resurrection couldn’t come sooner! As far as my dear wife, to this day, she still has a recurring nightmare about trying to get inside the church building from every entrance and being barred access. And what to say about her missing the children she watched while their mothers met for Bible study? I could go on and on but now I am truly speaking like a madman. Enough of that!

Humans are not only bound to interpret their experiences, they are also apt to absorb them. Live long enough and you will eventually laugh at your troubles and realize how ephemeral they really are. In this world, we are just passing through. The best is yet to come. Try to avoid blaming anyone for how you react to, interpret and absorb your sufferings. Individuals or groups may get you off track temporarily but they don’t have the power to derail you. That is something only God can do but the good news is that’s not His game. On the contrary, it is often through your groaning that God is growing you. Learn to embrace that. 

I must not close this commentary before mentioning the example of our Lord. Peter says (in the KJV): “… when he was reviled, he reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously.” (1 Peter 2:23). There you have it: Jesus didn’t take revenge and the reason he didn’t is because He knew that God would ultimately take care of the situation and that He would do that with absolute and perfect justice. That no doubt is still the best reason to date to not retaliate against others. It’s an effective deterrent to a bad habit we have — that of blowing the trumpet loudly with the menu of our own sufferings at the hands of our fellow humans. Forgive and let God take care of the rest. Try to handle it yourself and you will be doing a job above your pay grade. As we say in Portuguese, “Learn to stick to your station.” Translation (in any language): stay humble. And keep working for God’s shalom.

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade 

June 2017


O Ato de Minimizar o Seu Sofrimento 

Um grande amigo meu, um daqueles que têm observado de perto as minhas agruras desses últimos meses, depois de ler a minha última postagem, reclamou comigo que talvez eu tenha pecado por ter minimizado a severidade das minhas perdas. 

Se eu fiz isso, não foi propositalmente. Minimizar o sofrimento, seu ou alheio, nunca é benéfico e especialmente para alguém que busca algum grau de ajuda para curar sua alma através do ato de compartilhar sua história. Mas sem exageros, claro. Tudo com moderação, até a nossa lamentação. 

O meu amigo assinalou o exemplo das listas de auguras de Paulo, assim como que dizendo: “se o próprio Paulo se prestou a isso, por que não você?” De fato, em pelo menos duas ocasiões, Paulo nos descreve alguns episódios pouco agradáveis de suas aventuras como um seguidor de Cristo. 

A lista de 2 Coríntios 11:16-33 é de meter medo, incluindo tortura, fome e apedrejamento. Seria uma péssima peça de recrutamento de um possível soldado do ‘exército de Cristo’ naqueles dias. Imagine a cena: “Antes de você assinar o seu contrato, você precisa assistir a esse vídeo do maior missionário que já existiu falando de suas aventuras em prol de Cristo. Rola a fita!” Nem bem o vídeo termina e o cara sai de carreira pela saída mais próxima. E os evangelistas modernos ficariam se perguntando: e o que aconteceu com a história de que Deus tem um “plano maravilhoso” para a minha vida?

Mas, que me desculpe o meu amigo, eu não sou nenhum Apóstolo Paulo. Sim, é verdade que a primeira parte do meu nome significa “João” e o meu sobrenome é “Trindade”, mas se não me falha a memória, Jesus já tem um melhor amigo chamado João e não há vaga na Trindade, o que me deixa meio que sem jeito para falar falar dos meus sofrimentos.

Mas há razões mais sérias para a minha relutância. Até o próprio Paulo, na passagem mencionada acima, só agiu quando foi provocado pelos seus antagonistas. Isso deveu-se a certas jactâncias que eles proferiram, as quais não eram nem justas nem baseadas em fatos. Duas vezes, Paulo aponta o quão anômalo esse tipo de resposta era. Antes de começar, ele avisa que está falando como um incauto. E quando ele começa, vai direto no ponto e afirma que só loucos falam do jeito que ele está falando. Há um aviso muito claro aí para pisar leve quando se trata desse assunto. 

Uma outra razão sem dúvida deve-se ao fato de ser praticamente impossível falar dessa minha experiência no “deserto” sem estabelecer um elo com as pessoas que me fizeram chegar até lá. Mesmo que eu me esforçasse ao máximo para ser objetivo, as pessoas ainda tentariam fazer conexões com indivíduos que fizeram parte de certas decisões recentes da minha vida. Nesse pequeno universo onde eu vivo, seria muito fácil para alguém sair de caçada às “bruxas”. Muito cuidado: Até os seus bem intencionados lamentos podem acabar servindo de libelo contra pessoas que você intencionalmente jamais desejaria prejudicar. No final, suas palavras correm o risco de virar munição que podem dar origem à meia-verdades e especulações. Tô fora.

Isso de maneira nenhuma indica que a dor seja impessoal ou irreal. Pelo contrário, ela é dor de fato e é extremamente pessoal, mas justamente por essa razão é que, ao tentarmos descreve-la, temos que reconhecer que o fazemos com os nossos próprios óculos de 3-D nos olhos. Nós, humanos, não apenas reagimos às nossas experiências. Nós as interpretamos, a elas atribuímos valores e com frequência distribuímos culpa. Já basta que eu faça isso dentro da minha própria cabeça (santo mesmo eu não sou, podem crer!) Portanto, vou poupa-los de uma demonstração feia da minha própria carnalidade e não vou detonar os meus delatores. 

Por falar em carnalidade, esse negócio de “compartilhar o meu sofrimento”, quando feito sem pensar, pode resultar em que se exponha os podres dos outros. E é isso que muita gente gosta, não é mesmo? Como estamos rodeados de gente que quer ver roupa suja pendurada! Já fui tentado, mas fico perguntando: o que isso provaria, além do fato que talvez eu seja um néscio graúdo que não consegue sequer superar uma ofensa? Isso, claro, não quer dizer que me falta material para trazer à tona os podres dos outros. A minha “geladeira” está cheia desse troço. Os eventos que culminaram com a minha saída do emprego estão rodeados de intrigas capazes de manter a “geladeira” estocada por meses, mas quem ganharia com isso? É carne podre e de carne podre só os abutres gostam. 

Então, de minha boca não sairá podridão. Mas isso não significa que não possa dar uma de louco, assim como Paulo fez. Só pra alegrar o meu amigo que comigo esteve na fossa, aqui vai não o podre dos outros mas um pouco do vinagre com fel (de qualidade bem melhor do que o que deram pra Jesus) que a mim me foi dado beber. 

Como parte do nosso sofrimento, minha esposa e eu temos chorado a miúdo, tal qual não chorávamos desde a morte do nosso primeiro filho varão. Nos primeiros dois meses depois da dispensa, nem sequer sabíamos o que fazer com a nossa vida. Fins de semana eram especialmente difíceis. Dormir, nem pensar, e aquela adrenalina da antecipação do domingo ficou me assaltando como um algoz. Só para dar uma idéia, em mais de vinte e cinco anos, foi a primeira vez em que eu não estive envolvido com o planejamento ou pregação em um culto da Páscoa. Que maneira mais irônica de marcar a passagem dos sofrimentos do Messias. A ressurreição não poderia ter chegado mais rápido! Quanto à minha querida esposa, até hoje ela continua tendo um pesadelo no qual ela está tentando entrar na igreja por diversas portas e é barrada em todas, uma por uma. E não vou nem falar do quanto ela sente falta das crianças de quem ela cuidava enquanto as mães se reuniam para um estudo bíblico no prédio da igreja. Poderia continuar, mas chega. Já estou falando como um louco mesmo. 

Seres humanos não somente tem fraqueza por interpretar suas experiências, eles também têm uma tendência de adaptar-se a elas. Se você viver bastante tempo, chegará o dia em que rirá de seus problemas e se dará de conta do quão efêmeros eles são. Aqui nesse mundo só estamos de passagem. O melhor ainda está por vir. Esforce-se em não culpar ninguém por como você reage, interpreta e absorve os seus sofrimentos. Indivíduos ou grupos deles podem temporariamente nos tirar dos trilhos, mas eles não têm o poder de descarrilhar-nos. Isso só Deus pode fazer mas não faz parte do jogo dEle. Ao contrário, Ele usa os nossos grunhidos para nos tornar mais aguerridos. Às vezes o melhor crescimento é acompanhado de torcimento. Dói mas não destrói. Mói mas não mata. Pode crer.

Não poderia fechar esse comentário sem mencionar o exemplo do nosso Mestre. Pedro diz sobre Ele: “Quando insultado, não revidava; quando sofria, não fazia ameaças, mas entregava-se àquele que julga com justiça.” (1 Pedro 2:23). Mais claro não poderia ser. Jesus não procurou retaliar. E por que não? Porque Ele sabia que Deus iria resolver o problema e que o faria com absoluta e perfeita justiça. Ainda está pra se criar uma razão melhor que essa para evitar qualquer retaliação. É um detente perfeito para o péssimo hábito que temos de anunciar em alto e bom som o menu dos nossos sofrimentos às mãos dos nossos semelhantes. Perdoe e deixe que Deus faça o resto. Se você tentar resolver o assunto você mesmo, vai certamente fazer serviço de amador. Como a gente diz em português: “Aprenda a ficar no seu lugar.” Tradução (em qualquer língua): pratique a humildade. E continue trabalhando pela shalom de Deus. 

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade

Junho, 2017

Four months ago, when I unexpectedly lost a job I loved dearly, I thought I would never recover what I had lost. It took me months to crystallize my thoughts, but I am finally able to share what I have come to learn about… 

Losses and Gains

1. I lost the platform to speak to hundreds weekly but gained the time to speak every day to those few who love me unconditionally.

School of humility’s lesson #1: You can’t save the world if you are not loving on your family.
2. I lost a reliable income but gained the glory of living with integrity all the way to the end.

School of humility’s lesson #2: When mission and money collide, you must let mission always win.

3. I lost the adulation of people but gained the realization that it’s more blessed to receive one good advice than to give many.

School of humility’a lesson #3: Don’t let people come to you when they should be coming to God.

4. I lost the power to make big decisions but gained the discipline to make apparently mundane decisions that have huge consequences to my daily walk with God. 

School of humility’s lesson #4: The little things we decide to do when under pressure to retaliate speak much louder than all the decisions you ever made when you seemed to have been loved by everyone. 

5. I lost the rush of standing weekly by the bully pulpit but gained the joy of sitting daily at the feet of Jesus.

School of humility’s lesson #5: The most powerful posture is being bent in adoration in the presence of God.

6. I lost the title of “pastor” but gained the function of “shepherd” with people who continue to love me unconditionally.

School of humility’s lesson #6: People who know you will never listen to those who only know about you. 

7. I lost the chance to steer a big ship but gained the revelation that the crew was never going to let me ever bring it to its final destination anyway.

School of humility’s lesson #7: There are ships not even God can turn. 

Between gains and losses, I lost in the peripheries but gained in the substantive. My losses have humbled me but my gains have made me a better man. I am content. 

Now, I am not saying I am “happy.” I have been sad, angry, and felt the weight of humiliation often; but I am content. And do you want to know why? After all these months of quiet suffering, I finally realized it is God’s will for me to suffer. That’s right: God’s school of suffering is in session and for some reason I am the pupil sitting next n the front roll. 

Like Job in the Old Testament, I don’t have to know why I was given to suffer. All I need to know is that by God’s grace I have been given the opportunity to suffer a little tiny bit for the sake of Christ. Compared to what my Master had to endure for my sake, what I am going through now is only child’s play, so I am content. Though the suffering is real, I ought not to complain. With time, God will accomplish His purposes in me. I surrender my will to Him.

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade

June 2017

PS.: For those who are praying, we are still in Lititz and I am still looking for a job. We are packing because we must move out of the townhouse where we live due to severe reduction of income. We appreciate your continued prayers. 

Escola da Humildade

Há quatro meses atrás, quando eu inesperadamente perdi um emprego que eu amava profundamente, eu pensei que jamais seria capaz de recuperar o que eu havia perdido. Foram meses de reflexão até chegar ao ponto de poder solidificar minhas idéias, mas creio que finalmente posso fazê-lo. Eis aqui o que eu aprendi sobre…

Perdas e Ganhos 

1. Eu perdi uma plataforma que me permitia falar à centenas toda semana mas ganhei tempo para falar todo santo dia com aqueles que me amam incondicionalmente.

Escola da humildade. Lição número 1: Você não será capaz de salvar o mundo se não estiver se dedicando a amar a sua família.

2. Eu perdi uma fonte de sustento segura mas ganhei a glória de viver com integridade até o fim.

Escola da humildade. Lição número 2: Quando missão e dinheiro entrarem em rota de colisão, deixe que missão ganhe sempre.

3. Eu perdi a adulação de pessoas mas ganhei o aprendizado de que é mais abençoado receber um bom conselho do que dar muitos.

Escola da humildade. Lição número 3: Não deixe que as pessoas fiquem buscando a você quando elas deveriam estar buscando a Deus.

4. Eu perdi o poder de tomar grandes decisões mas ganhei a disciplina de fazer decisões aparentemente insignificantes que na verdade tem um fator determinante no meu andar com Deus.

Escola da humildade. Lição número 4: As pequenas coisas que decidimos fazer quando estamos debaixo da pressão para que nos vinguemos falam mais alto do que as decisões que fazíamos quando todos ao nosso redor aparentemente nos amavam.

5. Eu perdi a picardia de ficar diante de uma platéia atenta toda semana mas ganhei a alegria de sentar diariamente aos pés de Cristo.

Escola da humildade. Lição número 5: A postura mais poderosa é aquela que nos põe debruçados diante da presença de Deus.

6. Eu perdi o título de “pastor” mas ganhei a função de “guia” p’ra muita gente que continua me amando incondicionalmente.

Escola da humildade. Lição número 6: As pessoas que conhecem você nunca darão ouvidos àquelas que só ouviram falar de você. 

7. Eu perdi a oportunidade de capitanear um grande navio mas ganhei o conhecimento de que a tripulação não tinha nenhuma intenção de deixar que eu levasse o barco até o seu destino final.

Escola da humildade. Lição número 7: Há navios que nem Deus pode redirecionar.

Entre perdas e ganhos, eu perdi no que é periférico e ganhei nas coisas substantivas. Minhas perdas me ensinaram humildade e os meus ganhos me ajudaram a crescer como pessoa. Sigo contente. 

Notem que eu não estou dizendo que estou “feliz”. Muitas vezes encontro-me triste, com raiva, e sinto o peso da humilhação, mas ainda assim estou contente. E querem saber por que? Depois de vários meses de sofrimento solitário, finalmente dei-me de conta que essa é a vontade de Deus – o meu sofrimento. Isso mesmo. O ano escolar da escola divina do sofrimento abriu-se para mim e eu sou aquele aluno sentado na primeira fileira.

Como já sucedera a Jó no Velho Testamento, eu não preciso saber o porquê do meu sofrer. Eu só preciso saber que pela Sua graca Ele me deu a oportunidade de sofrer um tantinho pela causa de Cristo. Em comparação com o que o meu Mestre suportou por mim, o meu sofrimento é como se fosse passar uma noite num hotel de luxo, e aí está a fonte do meu contentamento. Mesmo que o sofrimento seja real, não me cabe reclamar. Com o tempo, Deus haverá de cumprir o Seus propósitos em mim. Eu entrego minha vontade a Ele. 

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade
Junho de 2017

PS.: Peço que continuem orando por nós. Eu ainda estou procurando trabalho. Precisamos nos mudar da casa onde moramos agora até o final de agosto mas não sabemos ainda para onde iremos.