This week, we received an unexpected prophetic word from an Uber driver in Edmonton.
In Edmonton, we met Daniel, our Uber driver, who shared a story that felt like God was talking to us. When Daniel learned we were missionaries in Brazil, he passionately encouraged us, “Don’t stop being missionaries. It is SO important.” He then recounted a tale from 80 years ago when Canadian missionaries journeyed to Ethiopia. They arrived in Addis Ababa and then ventured 500 km into the bush on horseback. Daniel’s father was the first to embrace their message, becoming a convert, then a pastor, and eventually a church planter. Today, Daniel, his wife, and their six children faithfully worship with about 300 people of Ethiopian backgrounds in a church in Edmonton. His words echo in our minds, “Don’t stop being missionaries. It is so important to many people.”
Charles (Chuck) and Rachel Keim (Dan Thiessen’s son-in-law and daughter) My friend Chuck passed to the other side, and we attended his celebration service in Edmonton.
1989. Chuck, Henry, and I are on an epic road trip, checking out the Joshua trees with Henry’s propane-fueled Cadillac in the background.
1989. Rick and Chuck at an orange stand “in a West Texas border town” or somewhere like that.
I knew Chuck when we were all still single. Once, my brother Henry invited Chuck and me to a long, meandering road trip clear across the United States the long way, from sea to sea and from Canada to Mexico. We took the long way there and back again, even driving hours out of our way to eat at a Mexican restaurant in El Paso. Henry had converted his Cadillac to propane as a less expensive fuel alternative, a new idea then. We traveled secondary highways and backroads, fueling up at trailer parks and anywhere we could find propane. We laughed all the way there and back again.
My cousins Dan and Rebekah are missionary kids. They grew up in remote regions in Borneo, and the church-planting work their parents initiated continues to grow.
Dan was the chairman of the Xtreme Mercy Canada board for fourteen years. Chuck married my cousin Dan’s daughter, Rachel.
2025. I am showing Uncle Henry photos of his missionary life in Borneo back in the 1960s or so. His body is strong, but his mind cannot always remember his exploits and relationships.
Last week, I had coffee with Uncle Henry in Abbotsford. He came twice to Brazil with Dan 20 years ago, and I asked him to tell Borneo missionary stories to the young churches in Brazil. The idea is that while the new churches start as receivers of the gospel, they pass on their blessing to others by planting more churches, maybe even internationally. Brazilians are loved worldwide and may have easier access to some groups.
Lucy and Paul’s people showed up in force at the Anglican Church last Sunday for their baptism.
While we dedicate our babies to God, and they get baptized when they are old enough to understand, the Anglicans baptize the babies of willing parents, and then the children, when they can understand, confirm that they want to be believers. That’s how I understand it. It felt like what we call baby dedications, and we are cheering them on along their journey to heaven.
Ellis Ritchard is growing up, and he has the biggest, whole-body smiles.
I am always amazed at how babies look deeply into the eyes of their caretakers to take their cues about how to think about things. They are programming their brains and emotions to survive or thrive on this incredible planet. The idea is that one day, we transfer our programmers from parents or caretakers to our spouses and God Himself. It’s right there, at the beginning of the Bible (Genesis 2:24).
About Us Rick Bergen, Ph.D. in Organizational Leadership, and Deanna Bergen, M.A., bring over thirty years of cross-cultural leadership and dedication to advancing the kingdom of God. They consult and speak at conferences to train leaders and plant churches. Rick and Deanna are passionate about servant leadership, family systems theory, leadership health, conflict management, and cross-cultural issues. They believe God radiates through healthy leaders and churches, attracting people like a beacon in a storm. Rick shares insights on these topics at this site, rickbergen.net .The Bergens are blessed with four daughters, three wonderful sons-in-law, and three cherished grandchildren. Their family is a source of inspiration and joy.
This week’s newsletter explores the profound idea that God has plans for us even before we are born, as illustrated in a recent dream. We’ll also extend a heartfelt invitation to our Brazil Night event, some prison-ministry memories, and highlight key moments from the past week that continue to shape our journey.
I dreamed about an ancient manuscript that included the names of those who helped in this church-planting initiative in Northern Brazil.
The dream included a fellow leader named Clenildo. I shared the details with him and obtained his permission before publishing this video.
“Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be” (Ps 139:16).
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations” (Jer 1:5).
“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Eph 2:10).
God’s plan is extraordinarily magnificent, reaching beyond the bounds of our imagination. His Kingdom is advancing, and we have the choice to be part of it. Understanding that we contribute to an eternal reality aligns our motivational compasses with heaven.
My friend’s baptism remains one of the great highlights of my life. The feeling of that moment still overwhelms me. I ministered to him in jail about five years ago. As you can see, he was a tough guy, and a leader. He has a Christian dad and sister, as best as I remember. I talked to them on the phone in another part of Brazil. The last I heard, he was in prison again in Southern Brazil because of previous charges. I called many times, but who knows? Maybe God will cross our paths again in the future.
I recall one of many anonymous stories I heard in those years. “I was breaking horses for a rancher way out in the bush. I was a pro, and he trusted me with his best horses. After six months, he gave me some wages and said I could visit my parents. I went to town with the roll of cash and went to the bar. I ended up in a motel room with one of the girls in the bar, but she drugged me and stole all my money. The next day, I saw her in the bar again. She flew at me in a rage when I confronted her about it. Finally, I walked over and sat at the bar. I tried to ignore her, but she kept harassing me. Finally, I flicked my bic lighter at her, just because it was something. She had a big puffy afro, and I didn’t know it was full of hairspray. It exploded, and she ran out into the inky-black, humid night, screaming and with her hair on fire… The police showed up and arrested me. Then they put me in jail on a different charge, of which I was not guilty. I have done bad things, but not the one for which I am charged.”
Another guy went to the bar with some friends. After drinking for a while, a friend he knew from school accused him of stealing his cell phone. It wasn’t accurate, but at the end of the confusion, he had cut his friend’s throat, for which he was in jail. The friend lived and didn’t press charges, so he got out after about a year.
This type of story is common where we live. In the jail, I would sometimes lose track of time and remain locked in with 25-30 guys for hours. Once, I pulled up in front of the jail with my motorbike, got my saddlebag with my Bible and stuff, and went through the police cars, reporters, and guys in handcuffs milling around the front area outside the jail. I talked through the hole in the big steel door, and the guard let me in. I also went through four more locked gates to the inner cell where my friends were. When I came out a few hours later, the guard gave me my motorcycle keys. He said I’d left my bike running in my absent-minded state. We laughed.
I am constantly amazed at how quickly humans run into unimaginable grief when we are left to our resources and choose good and evil based on our judgment. The story is as old as the Bible.
“In those days Israel had no king; everyone did as they saw fit” (Judges 21:25).
Thankfully, we now have a King and a Kingdom. We feel so honored to be ambassadors who invite others in.
“From that time on Jesus began to preach, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.'” (Matthew 4:17).
When Gil got out of jail, the guard called me to come and pick him up. We had been talking about going on a missionary trip together. I contacted another ex-inmate, Natán, who invited his friend, Yuri. They lived in a village near our city. Gil and I drove there and met Natán, his single mom, brother, and invalid grandfather. After coffee with them, we went to Yuri’s, whose grandma did not want him traveling with us jailbird. We convinced her that I was a missionary and that this was a mission trip. You can see her concerned-Grandma face.
I took my friends to another town. One pastor said we could not stay at his place because of who my friends were. It was understandable. But another took us in. They made us a feast, and we tied our hammocks on the porch. They locked the house doors at night, with us on the outside. My friends asked me about it. I said, “They probably do that all the time.”
I had a leadership retreat planned. They participated in the Discovery Bible studies, which we had already done many times together in jail.
We prayed together, and the guys were accepted and welcomed by the group, many of whom had been in similar situations or had relatives in those situations. That weekend led to the baptism above.
We had a lot of fun on that trip. The guys felt pretty awesome. But when we went into restaurants, the people looked at us strangely. The guys said often in scenarios like this, when an older guy with a nice vehicle has three guys like them, it is a rancher or logger on a mission.
I look forward to the day these guys, or guys like these, are on a single focused mission for the King of kings, creating disciples and communities of believers who delight in pushing back the darkness.
Today
The jail situation deteriorated significantly before covid, resulting in a much-needed reform. However, the process included no visitors for a long season and significant bureaucracy, which I never could get through with my foreigner status and all my travels. Even now, I don’t know how to help substantially, though social-transition-training farms may be effective. I pray for my friends and watch for an opportunity.
Yuri, on the right, messaged me through WhatsApp this week that Natán, on the left, committed suicide and informed me of the funeral. When I told him I was in Canada, he said, “I am just telling you because Natán really liked you. He always spoke highly of you.” It is hard to imagine a life of hopelessness without God, and when things start to slide, it is difficult to turn around. My best idea about a solution is to form as many communities of believers as possible.
Last week, I wrote, “Happy Birthday, Deanna.” It was on the morning of her birthday. Here are some photos of the special day.
Bella’s birthday gift to Deanna was to come to church with us, where we could show the twins to many people who prayed for them through their 66 days in the NICU and onward.
