Three years ago, I traveled to northeast Brazil to visit a missionary-friend of mine and his family. I went there to encourage them and to see their work up close. The experience altered my worldview and helped me better understand how God’s church grows in remote regions of the world.

One day as I was walking through a village near the Equator, I suddenly found myself surrounded by seven curious children. My eyes were diverted from the loose boards that served as roofs over many of their homes as a type of silent friendship began to form among us. With my camera doing double duty as a translator and mirror, each image I took brought requests for more. Meanwhile, I shelved a long-held misconception about children always being happy. For when I looked through the lens of the camera, I saw tiny faces that were a blend of reserved smiles, pain and uncertainty that had little or nothing to do with me.

I couldn’t help but contrast this experience with one I had had the night before when I visited the local church where my missionary-friend is the pastor. The congregation listened intently as God’s Word was taught outdoors and across the road from the only street light for blocks. I noticed that the worship leader was about ten years old, but his smile told me he knew God’s peace in his heart. His two musical companions did also, along with twelve other believers, nearly all of whom were children. Throughout the night, I witnessed mature Christians who were serious about their faith, not prone to distraction and who were keen to support and encourage one another.

Until then, my concept of spiritual maturity in Christ had been constrained by making a distinction between Christians who were chronologically young and those who were mature in their faith based on my random human formula. I had never realized that children can comprise an entire church and serve it well. It was a good insight and something God knew I needed to learn.

The interesting detail about the children living in the village, and those I met in the local church, is that they share a cultural phenomenon. Brazilian children often grow up not knowing the name of their father or enjoying his presence at home. This harsh reality sets the stage for tender hearts to be open to the Good News about our Heavenly Father, His love and His enduring proximity. The problem is that there are not enough Kingdom workers in Brazil, and this gap leaves a huge hole in my heart for the children I met and photographed.