Every month, Heaven’s Family helps far more people than we could ever highlight in our bi-monthly newsletter. For that reason, this page contains additional photos and stories of some of the “least of these” among our spiritual family whom we’ve recently been blessed to serve.
Where's my mommy? This cry, whether spoken through the tears of a small child, or unmistakably etched on his or her face, is all too common in the chaotic wake of a natural disaster. Families are separated or displaced—sometimes permanently—and such perilous circumstances are, for opportunistic human traffickers, like fishing in a stocked pond.
Pastor Paul Fang has baptized many believers in China, but none more important than the one he recently performed. This new believer in Jesus was once an animist who worshiped spirits in trees, rocks and other objects, and practiced witchcraft and strange superstitions. She lived in deep darkness, regularly cursing her enemies, but lived under the continual curse of tormenting spirits. She spent all her life in poverty, and was even forced in her youth to build roads under Mao's regime.
The civil war in Syria has caused millions to suffer, but given God's people an unprecedented opportunity to serve our spiritually needy family—as well as demonstrate His love to Muslims, many who are now open as never before.
I had never heard of a "bed bus" until I boarded one bound for Poipet, a small city on Cambodia's border with Thailand. After squeezing down an aisle that thin people have to walk sideways to fit through—two tiers of beds down each side—I soon discovered that the bunks were double-occupancy, meaning I had to share the last remaining 3.5-foot-wide by 5-foot-long bunk, all the way in the back of the bus, with another person for the 9-hour ride through the dark, bumpy night.
Here is a progress report on a new Farming God's Way (FGW) project near Mutare, Zimbabwe in which 19 poor subsistence farmers are participating. They received FGW training in October and planted their maize (corn) fields using their new knowledge and skills.
A sign should be posted, I thought, that warns those fearful of heights not to enter. I was walking into a riverfront slum, one in which every home was built on stilts—some very high stilts. Even the sidewalks that weaved through this collision of cobbled-together buildings were built on interconnected stilts that tied everything together in what seemed an uneasy truce with gravity. I didn't want to look down, as it was impossible to avoid seeing the ground far below through the gaping gaps between boards—but if I didn't, a slight misstep might seriously ruin my day!
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