Stories from our field writers and other contributors
At night, globes of light wink into existence on the expanse of the water. More and more appear, like a string of glowing pearls bobbing on a swath of velvet.
The message to the farmers and shepherds of Lesotho is that God, amazingly, relates to their disparaged vocations. And through them, he is working out his purposes for Lesotho
What do you take on a trip like that? Good boots and a Bible. A notebook and an open mind. And, if you dare, an open heart.
Make your everyday life a spiritual act of worship and constantly remind yourself, “This is what God has called me to do.” Just hanging out with the boys is part of worship and part of praising God.
Perhaps a better question is how can we lose heart, when Rwandans themselves – who have suffered so much – refuse to do so? Rather than blame God for their problems, they look to Him for solutions
Surrounded by those bones, visualizing the magnitude of what had happened there, I had a real sense of Satan’s involvement. The organizational effort to rally a million people to turn against their neighbor has his fingerprints all over it.
The young Mwani church has gone through similar trials. The worries of the world and the daunting bonds of culture have pounded the burgeoning yet vulnerable body of believers.
They believe in the Gospel of Truth so strongly that not only are they willing to risk their own lives for it, but, grasping tightly to the knowledge of eternity with a loving God, they are willing to risk the lives of the people with whom they share their faith.
“As a church and observers, we are brought into the situation—and we can be brought into the solution,”
He hears what others from his area are telling him, about never going back. But he believes forgiveness is everything—and for him it means going back
“If we are going to heal fast, let us be able to meet the arsonist, so that as we meet with each other, day by day, God will be working in and through us to help not only heal us, but to forgive and restore these men to the original fellowship.”
So maybe these are the best moments. Moments like now, when I can reflect upon where we once were and where we are now. When I can honestly say, I love these people.
Once a man bent on self-destruction. Now a man spent for the Lord. Timothy is a living, breathing display of a God whose love is relentless. The humble pastor cannot walk these streets without testifying to this.
“I treat them like human beings,” Hanneke says bluntly when I ask about her secret to ministering among those with AIDS. “I touch them. I hug them.” She makes it sound easy, but I marvel at her methods.
All forty-four were gathered in the main rehabilitation room. They sat on floor mats, a mass of giggles and crutches.