10250 North Freeway @ West Road
Houston, Texas 77037
Tel: (281) 447-8484
Pastor: Dr. Lester Hutson

All of the material listed herein is the property of the Byron McCartney family, and may not be copied without express written authorization.

I don't remember much about our first few years in Brazil. But then again how many people can remember events that happened when they were under 4 years old? I know we first arrived in Brazil in July of 1953 when I was 9 months old and for the next several years my father pastored a large church in the city of São Paulo in the state with the same name. I'll tell you more about how God prepared that church to receive my father before he ever started his training to become a missionary but first, I'd like to relate an episode that happened several years later which led to my brother's accepting Christ as his savior.

In the fall of 1960 my father felt a burden for the people of the northeast of Brazil. With the churches in Sao Paulo in the well trained hands of national pastors whom my father had trained as his replacements, we packed up and moved to the coastal city of Recife in the state of Pernambuco, one of the easternmost states in the country.

My father and another missionary started two churches and a Bible institute in the area and labored intensely there for 3 years. Then in the summer of '63 dad decided to take the family on a six state exploratory trip. The purpose of this journey was to scout out potential locations for future churches and basically to just familiarize ourselves with the northeast area of Brazil.

Now, before I go any further I must give you some background information. First, this was a very unstable time in Brazil's political history. The country's president and several other leaders were socialists and there was a strong anti-American atmosphere in most of the larger cities. Second, the area into which we were heading was very remote and undeveloped. In fact much of the trip would be through vast expanses of wilderness with no inhabitants. Third, we were told that the most likely traveler we would encounter would be gun-toting truckers who most likely would take the wrong kind of interest in my mother and two sisters. Fourth, our Willys Jeep station wagon was not in the best of shape, nor was it designed to handle the types of roads we were going to be traveling on. Yet despite all the warnings and obstacles we packed up the jeep and headed towards the northeastern town of Teresina in the state of Piauí.

I said 'we packed up the jeep' but the truth is Dad packed the jeep. My father did many things well, but he absolutely excelled at organizing and fitting many things into the smallest places. If you've never seen a Willys jeep station wagon, just picture a jeep with hard sides and roof. Not much room for luggage. The spare tire fit on a bracket behind the rear bench, further limiting the packing room. But Dad got everything in just right. We had long ago learned to just bring Dad the bags and then stand back and watch him work. To put something even as little as a cosmetic bag in without his supervision would risk delaying the trip while he unloaded and then reloaded the jeep.

This would be a two week trip so we had to pack at least 4 or 5 days of clothing each. Dad, my brother and I shared a suitcase and the other 12 bags belonged to Mom and my sisters (or so it seemed). Because you couldn't trust the quality of the water in the small towns we would be passing through, we filled a 3 gallon cooler with ice cold mineral water. Dad packed all the bags, his tools and the cooler in the back and with my help closed the back doors. That jeep was packed so tight that if anyone sneezed we would have blown out the back and sprayed clothes, shoes and water all over the countryside.

So, off we went with our stuffed jeep. We had a full tank of gas, plenty of oil and 5 good tires. Wait, back up to before we left. Let's start with us sitting in the hot, non air-conditioned jeep waiting to go. Dad always prayed before we started out on any trip. We just always wished he'd do it in the cool of the shade and not while we were suffocating in a cramped vehicle in 90 degree weather. Never-the-less, Dad always asked God's blessings on our trips, and when I think about it we never had any real problems. But this trip would provide a real test of our faith.

Now we were off; packed, prayed and sweating. I said the jeep was not air-conditioned, but really it did have a 4/50 air-conditioner: open 4 windows and drive 50 kilometers per hour. Overall the jeep was in fair shape. It wasn't new but it wasn't falling apart either. It was a four cylinder and could manage 80 kilometers downhill without too much effort, but because of the poor roads we rarely went over 60 (about 35 or 40 miles per hour). The jeep was made for moderately poor roads but not for off-roading. The suspension left much to be desired and believe you me, on the roads we traveled during that trip much desiring took place (quietly so as not to upset Dad).

It seems the beginning of every family trip starts out smoothly. Every one is in a good mood and us kids got along with each other as if we were normal. However, let a few cramped, sweaty, bumpy and dusty hours go by and you would have thought we were troubled children who had escaped from some home for wayward children. I don't know how Mom and Dad kept their sanity during those times, but they did and the kilometers went by one by one.

Late in the afternoon a couple days into our journey we heard a hiss followed shortly afterwards by a blumpity, blumpity sound. If you are an experienced road warrior you know what that sound means: a flat tire. No problem. We had a good spare. No one was worried that for the past 6 hours we had not seen another human: on foot, on horseback or in a vehicle. We had a spare. This might actually be exciting. We'll get to watch Dad unload the jeep to get out his tools and the spare, and then watch it all go back in after the tires are swapped out.

About 1 hour later we were all back in the car, in the sun, in the heat, cramped. You guessed it. Another prayer. The shade of large fruit trees within feet of the car which has been baking in the 95 degree sun for the past hour, and we have to pray from inside it. Oh well, pray we did. I remember that prayer because I'd rarely heard temerity or worry in my father's voice. Thankfully it was a short prayer and we soon had the 4/50 A/C going again.

We had just started to sing a chorus when we heard what seemed like an echo from our previous experience: Hiss and blumpity, blumpity, blump. Would you believe it? The spare went flat. We sat in shock realizing we were in the middle of nowhere with two flats and no way to repair either of them. To top things off and set the proper atmosphere for the occasion my 5 year old brother popped his head on Dad's shoulder and said, 'and Daddy, we even prayed.' In his book, A Table In The Wilderness, my father explains the mental gyrations he went through in the split seconds between that question and his answer. What would you tell your unsaved child? How would you answer that question to someone who has not yet come to trust the Lord as their Savior? After a quick but silent prayer my father answered, 'yes Kevin, we did. But you just wait and see what the Lord is going to do for us.' A more faith-full statement was never spoken, at least I've never heard one.

Dad got out and unloaded the back and got his tools out. It was almost dark and not only had we not seen anyone for several hours we were at least 100 kilometers from the town to which we were heading for the night. We were on a dirt road in the middle of a wooded not-quite-jungle area. Parrots and other beautiful birds flew in to the nearby trees to roost for the night and began their evening serenade. Normally we would be oohing and aahing over the many colors and sizes of these birds, but all we could think of was 'how are we going to get out of this one?'

Dad was getting ready to hike up the road when we heard an unbelievable sound: the roar of a big diesel engine! That could only mean one thing: a big truck driven by a gun-totting, woman-molesting communist (or so our Job-like friends would have had us believe). The sight of that truck slowing down almost brought tears to our eyes. When 20 minutes later there was not one but 5 trucks parked around our jeep with all the drivers patching up our two tires and re-inflating them the tears did flow. Those drivers would not let my Dad do anything. They made sure we were all ok. Then they took the tires apart, repaired them, put them back together, mounted the one tire on the jeep and the other in the back and re-packed the luggage area. All this with the utmost courtesy to my mother and sisters. Yes, they all had guns and/or knives but only for protection. As for their political persuasion: unknown. But they were the nicest most considerate bunch of truck drivers I've ever seen since.

And there stood Kevin with his arms folded like some great warrior chief watching the whole thing with great pride. You could read his thoughts in his stance and look: 'Just look at what God is doing for us.'

Dad had packed several hundred gospels of John and tracts. The drivers would not accept any money, food or water. But they each readily accepted a gospel and a tract. Dad spoke with them for several minutes trying to see if any of them were receptive to the gospel. They thanked him, but urged him to hurry on down the road and get to the next town. Two of the trucks were heading our direction and the drivers told us that they would be right behind us. As we pulled away we looked back to see all those burly truckers reading the material we gave them by the lights of their trucks.

We made it to that next town and on through the rest of the trip without any further problems. God had provided for us that night in a very real way. I wish I knew what became of those truckers. Maybe I'll see them in Heaven some day. But I will never forget their kindness and their much needed assistance.

SUMMARY:

A short time after returning home from that trip my brother, the only one of us kids who had yet to accept Christ as their Savior, came up to my father one evening and asked him to help him become a born-again Christian. Through tears of gratitude to Almighty God he led my brother to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.

I have no doubt whatsoever that his desire to trust Christ as his Savior was triggered by the two-flats incident of our recently completed trip. He may have been young but he was old enough to see the provisionary hand of God working in answer to my father's prayers during that trip.

What about you? Have you come to that point in your life where you can trust Christ to save you from an eternity in Hell? It just takes belief on your part. Belief that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, that He died on the cross for our sins and that He rose on the third day (John 3:16, 1 Corinthians 15:1-4). John 3:36 tells us that, 'he that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.' Jesus' own words are, 'verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me hath everlasting life' (John 6:47). Won't you accept Him as your Savior today?

NEXT LESSON:

Have you ever done something you thought was ok but then later realized how foolish or even how life threatening it was? Well I did. More than once, too. I'll share one of those times with you in the next lesson.

"It Does Make a Difference What You Believe"