My daughter, Viviane Freitas, sent me this email back in April and I’ve decided to share this message with all of my readers.




Hi, Dad!



I wanted to thank you for your post. At first, I didn’t think you had written it, even after seeing your name. But as I continued reading towards the end, I knew it was really you.



Love for the souls is what I inherited from you. And Julio watered that little plant and it grew even more.



After being of God, in Brás, São Paulo, at the age of 15, my life completely changed. My desire was to win souls. I no longer cared about having “friends” or about the world and it’s “adventures”, etc… What mattered to me now was saving souls.



When I got married, I went from being an assistant, to being a pastor’s wife. I wanted to continue giving more of myself but I didn’t know how. I did everything I thought was right, but I didn’t feel the same joy I did when I was an assistant. You should remember, but there was day that I decided not to participate of the night vigil so that I could have a serious talk with God because I felt so burdened. I wasn’t counseling people like I used to, there wasn’t that one on one connection like before. I missed that connection! I really missed it!



So I turned on my walkman to listen to the meeting in Brazil and started crying along to the pastor’s prayer. I was in such agony that I cried like a baby. I cried freely, without realizing the noise I was making. Everyone was in church and suddenly, someone put their hand on my back (because I was on my knees). I thought, “Uh Oh! Who’s seeing me in this state?” As I turned around, I heard mom asking: “What happened sweetie? Did Julio hit you?”(Lol). I couldn’t get a grip and stop crying. I said “No, it’s not that”. She insisted, “What happened?”


Then, you came in (it was in that house in Portugal, next to Bishop Paul) and said, “What happened? Hey, hey! Let’s stop crying, now! Take it easy! Tell me what happened?” I couldn’t stop crying, I couldn’t explain it. After a while, not knowing how to express the agony I was feeling, I said that I wasn’t able to feel the Holy Spirit like I used to.


You said, “What are you talking about, my daughter! You can’t feel the Holy Spirit all the time. I don’t feel Him all the time, either.” I remember it like if it was yesterday; your words, that whole episode.



You couldn’t understand what I was going through at that moment. Nor did I know how to explain it. But it was very simple; it was the pain of not being used like before. Not having direct contact with the people like I used to.



Months passed and we were transferred to South Africa, then New York, California, Texas, California, New York, and I continued looking for ways to be useful and win more souls because often, the wife’s role isn’t as hands on as the pastor. I began accepting the life of a natural wife. I counseled, prayed, went to church, etc., but it wasn’t the same.



I allowed the personal desire of wanting children into my heart. He came, but then I lost him. I always asked God not to allow me to confuse mother’s love with His love and not let it get in the way of me doing His work; otherwise, He could take him from me.



Can you believe that? That’s exactly what I asked for from the beginning.



When I lost everything that I considered to be a blessing from God and ended up in Atlanta, I found myself in agony, especially whenever I thought about the children. I was almost at the brink of depression; that’s how bad things got. Whenever I walked past a mother with her children on the street, it hurt me; when I was alone at home, nostalgia hit. My pain was cruel. It was a delicate situation. Nobody seemed to care. I was alone.


Apart from all this, I never stopped doing what I enjoyed: going out to evangelize, cleaning and caring for the church.



I insisted with Julio to adopt another child because the pain was unbearable. But he put his foot down this time and said that he wouldn’t adopt another child right now, not even if you told him to. We were going through all this because, years before, I begged him to accept the challenge of adoption and he said that we didn’t have the calling to care for a child! We were called to win souls!



I wanted to throw a temper tantrum whenever I heard him say that. How could he! I had no way out! My parents couldn’t help me; nobody could’ve helped me. I was going to have to live with it; I couldn’t believe it!



Dad, I felt like covering my ears whenever he said that to me. I asked him several times but he always said no and repeated those words.



Whenever he’d say those words, God spoke very softly in the back of my heart, “My child, ask Me to take away that desire, it’s selfishness on your part, you’re on the altar.”



When I heard that voice, I would say to myself, “Oh hold on, wait a minute, you want me to forget my dream, after everything that happened? Oh no, it’s my right, the only thing I left. And I’m not going to ask You for that Lord, no way! Everyone else has one, why must I sacrifice? Why me? Everybody else was able to manage and it’s another way to win souls!”



But I couldn’t even convince myself that what I was feeling was right.



Dad, it was so hard on me. Every time you came to visit, there’d be a knot stuck in my throat. God was the only thing holding me back from pouring out my soul in front of you. It seemed like I was becoming possessed. That’s the accusations the devil bombarded me with. He used that sadness I was feeling and tried to convince me that I was possessed.



During the Sanctuary campaign with the throne inside, I decided to participate and got my own envelope. When it was time to present our envelopes, mine was empty, but I prayed, “Look, God, this envelope is empty! Lord, you know it. That’s right, but here’s my biggest dream, the one I didn’t ask you to give me and I don’t want to ask you to take away. From now on, I surrender my desire to have children; I’ll never seek to make this dream come true again.”



As I stepped down that simple altar, in Atlanta, I came face-to-face with an assistant. My face was red from crying so much. I hadn’t given something that I felt I had to give, but gave what my intelligent faith told me to give. As I walked down, I thought, “I’m not going to tell anyone about this vow because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep it.”



As I looked up and saw the assistant, I thought, “He must be thinking that I’m crying because the church is empty, poor thing, he doesn’t know that I just gave something that I should’ve given to God a long time ago.



Dad, I was so ashamed before God. What a sad reality. I should have been investing in winning souls! But instead, there I was, suffering because I didn’t have children! Like it was the end of world!



It was a double-edged sword, Dad. I left crying even more. Every time I think about that episode, I get teary-eyed because I was being so selfish.



I’m not sure how long it took, but soon after, I no longer had the desire to have children.



Years later, I found out about someone else who entered into that sanctuary with me. That person spoke out during a wives meeting while I was giving my testimony. She said, “I remember that day. I remember it because I was baptized with the Holy Spirit that day”. Her name is Patricia Barboza.



From that simple church, several men were born of God. If I’m not mistaken, it was nine men. There were more men than women in God’s work, at the time, because there was blood in my sacrifice. Those nine are doing God’s work on the altar, not to mention the women who are also doing His work.



My ministry restarted that day because I gave. I gave without asking him to take away that desire. I gave without feeling. I gave to serve!



From then on, I began bearing fruits.



That’s basically it, but it was a long story!



In faith!



Viviane Freitas