Farewell, Dear Friend, Bob Berry

 One of my dearest mentors passed into eternity yesterday. 

Bob Berry has joined those who stand in the presence of their Lord. This Sunday morning he is singing the "Hallelujah Chorus" better than he ever sang it before.

Bob led Canadian Baptist Ministries, our mission organization for many years. He graciously interacted with 1,200 churches across our country and many more around the world. He leaves a godly heritage for his five children, and many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He will be missed by an enormous number of individuals beyond his family and church. 

One memory, of many, comes back. Bob's words left a powerful influence on me as he shared the Kingdom of God. The day was a late June Sunday in 1988 in Western Brazil. Bob was spending two weeks in Brazil on a trip that later led him to Bolivia and then back to Toronto, Canada.

The morning began in Corumba, a city on Brazil's border with Bolivia. The wide Paraguay River flows past Corumba as it drains the surrounding Pantanal, the world's largest swampland. We headed out to Porto Esperanca, a small community on the edge of the river, traveling on a 24 foot-long boat I was involved in constructing three years earlier. This tiny community, like scores of others along the river, can only be reached by boat.

On Sunday morning, we spent 90 minutes going from the port in Corumba to Porto Esperanca. Bob preached to a new congregation and his message was translated into Portuguese. The morning service was followed by 24 baptisms as our pioneer missionary, Jose Valamatos, dipped people into the river's edge. After lunch, which was open to the community, our team of eight talked with the neighbors and laid plans for a permanent home to be built for a Brazilian to live in the community. (I bought the riverbank property for $500 on behalf of the Brazilian Baptists. We built a large house on stilts to preserve it from the annual floods. This church continues as an outpost of the Congregacao Crista do Brasil, a Pentecostal group.)

Coming back upriver on Logos, the boat in the late afternoon, the motor stopped in midstream. Darkness came on. Above us, we watched the sun disappear. Stars filled the sky. Two hours passed before Valamatos, in the darkness, fixed the troubled, second-hand motor. It was old and unusable, ready for the trash-heap when Valamatos and I bought it for $200 three years earlier. But Valamatos kept the thing running, somehow.

Bob Berry, In the middle of the Pantanal, not showing any fear of being swept down the river towards

Paraguay made a comment I'll never forget. "I wish tons of people in Canada could see what I saw today. The gospel is being preached and people are being discipled in a tiny village in the middle of a swamp. Children have been inoculated against childhood diseases and women are receiving good instruction. Their church was a former bar, then a gambling hall, and until recently, the home of a local hired-gun who was paid to kill government officials. If people could witness this, we'd never have trouble in supporting Gospel work around the world." 

At a moment when I was fearful that our boat would end up in the swamp somewhere, (cell phones didn't exist then) Bob Berry was thinking about taking the message of Jesus Christ to more people. He was planning to send people to countries in Europe, from Yugoslavia to Latvia, and to many places where Gospel preaching was banned through government oppression. Bob cared about Grace, his wonderful wife, and his growing family. Behind his humor and pride in his family, Bob had a passion like few others for taking the Gospel to all the world. 

I will miss your friendship, Bob. Thanks for a life lived selflessly and with great courage.