Ubira Souza

2026-04-17 22:47:09 -

My calling to serve the Lord. When I was 16, I went camping outside the city with my younger brother and six other friends. But we went against our mother's wishes, who strongly opposed our going out for three days. Eventually, our father gave permission and the money, and we set off.

The first evening, we were in the dark forest chatting and drinking cognac and wine. After a while, everyone was tired and almost all went to sleep in their tents. But two stayed outside because there wasn't enough room for them in the two shacks. They rekindled the fire, which had already gone out. Suddenly, I couldn't hear their voices anymore. I heard strange whispers, and when I poked my head out to check what was happening, I saw a man in a balaclava with a gun and two others with their heads covered, carrying a large knife and a flashlight. He ordered us to leave the tents. They ransacked all our belongings. They took everything of value. One of them wanted to kill us. We had a tough time. At that moment, shivering with cold and fear, I prayed to God: may they take everything except our lives. If I had escaped with my brother alive, I would have tried to change my way of life. I didn't know exactly how, but I would have tried to figure out how. Those men had already left, threatening to shoot us if we had looked at them as they fled. Early the next morning, we bathed in the waterfall, chatted for a while, and then left. I remained traumatized for a week by what had happened. It only ended when I accepted Jesus. I did so at an evangelistic campaign at my friend's house, who was also camping with me. He had already converted three days earlier at his own house, too. And on the evening of May 9, 1997, I raised my hand and accepted Jesus.

Almost 29 years have passed, but what happened remains very clear in my memory. It was the turning point that made all the difference in my life. Soli Deo Gloriam!

My calling to serve the Lord. When I was 16, I went camping outside the city with my younger brother and six other friends. But we went against our mother's wishes, who strongly opposed our going out for three days. Eventually, our father gave permission and the money, and we set off. The first evening, we were in the dark forest chatting and drinking cognac and wine. After a while, everyone was tired and almost all went to sleep in their tents. But two stayed outside because there wasn't enough room for them in the two shacks. They rekindled the fire, which had already gone out. Suddenly, I couldn't hear their voices anymore. I heard strange whispers, and when I poked my head out to check what was happening, I saw a man in a balaclava with a gun and two others with their heads covered, carrying a large knife and a flashlight. He ordered us to leave the tents. They ransacked all our belongings. They took everything of value. One of them wanted to kill us. We had a tough time. At that moment, shivering with cold and fear, I prayed to God: may they take everything except our lives. If I had escaped with my brother alive, I would have tried to change my way of life. I didn't know exactly how, but I would have tried to figure out how. Those men had already left, threatening to shoot us if we had looked at them as they fled. Early the next morning, we bathed in the waterfall, chatted for a while, and then left. I remained traumatized for a week by what had happened. It only ended when I accepted Jesus. I did so at an evangelistic campaign at my friend's house, who was also camping with me. He had already converted three days earlier at his own house, too. And on the evening of May 9, 1997, I raised my hand and accepted Jesus. Almost 29 years have passed, but what happened remains very clear in my memory. It was the turning point that made all the difference in my life. Soli Deo Gloriam!

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