Moving Forward, Going Back

***vlog***

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On a side note. I really wanted to integrate more direct journaling during my time. But I found that while I was in Asia, God was working with me very personally and inwardly, and in such a way that it was difficult to express what I was going thru, especially in a blog. Standing on California soil, I find He has healed my brokenness in a way that only he could. I am made new and ready to share with you more on this journey!

Dear Friend

*** letter to supporters***

There’s something I have learned here in Asia. God doesn’t change. The same God we worship in California is the same in Asia or anywhere else. While our contexts and circumstances change from place to place, following Jesus, we are all called to reach for His principles and priorities in our lives. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Spending the last seven months in Asia, I am convinced that His indomitable will is for His name to be spread to all nations and people groups- whether it is in Long Beach, Corona, Riverside, Orange County or in a remote village in Asia.

Today, if you could see my heart you’d see its shape is Asia. I leave this side of the world with more work left to be done- more stories to be written- more Bibles to be delivered and more people to be reached. It’s a New World we live in and I have found the possibilities for connecting believers in the West and East are endless. Coming to the States, my desire is to continue serving the church community. If God is willing to send me back to Asia to do this, I will gladly take the opportunity. I will be in Southern California in early April where I will take time to pray and seek out opportunities to serve.

I would love to share the work here with you all. My friends here who are suffering and persevering for the gospel would appreciate me advocating their struggle on their behalf. I look forward to seeing you in person. May God give us more grace for today.

Sincerely,

EJ

Bangladesh

***vlog***

Busy in Bangkok

***vlog***

Dear Friend

a letter to friends and supporters

During the week, I get up and strap on my running shoes at 6:30 am Bangkok time. I head over to a nearby park where they have a circular track that’s at least 800 meters long. I find running there helps get out the stress and pain I feel from missing home.

Whenever I am there I aim to finish 10 laps.

The first and second laps are pretty easy, but by the third I start to feel it. When I hit the fifth my body is telling me it has had enough and its time to give up and go eat a Big Mac from Mcdonalds.

But somehow, from somewhere I find energy to keep going. Then I find myself on the sixth. On the eighth I don’t think I can go on. I’m gasping for air, just focusing in and pushing forward. Finally on the tenth I have no idea how I’m making it. I’m just going one step at a time and focusing on the finish line. At the end I always stand where I started, my legs feel dead but I’m satisfied that I had met my goal.

Why am I writing to you about my running escapades? Because I’m on what should be the last lap here in Asia, and I’m finding it’s the hardest. Please remember to pray for me as my mind, body and trying circumstances have been telling me to quit; Thankfully, I have been recently reminded that this is one last round I need to finish (we should all thank Jesus for godly mothers ☺).

O how I wish life was as easy as running! ☺ Christians are called to trust God and rely on him for our daily needs. May God give me the grace and his spirit to finish well! I hope to be in Bangladesh (the third highest Muslim pop in the world) next month and then finish my time with ****** at the end of March. I hope you are well back home. Please keep your friend in Asia in your prayers, also please remember the many people here in Asia who still need to hear the gospel.

Sincerely,

EJ

Empowered

***feature***

Thomas gripped his hands to the steering wheel at 10 and 2 o clock. As a man entered his taxicab, he flipped out a small gospel track, turned to the backseat and with a smile, handed it to the passenger. He was a simple man trying to earn a living in a country struggling economically. In the late 80’s Myanmar was ranked as one of the most underdeveloped nations in the world. It was 1988 and for a taxi driver, work was scarce.

He was a Sunday school teacher, taxicab evangelist, and a part time Bible courier to China. He was happy. But with a wife, two children, and another child on the way he needed a better way to provide for his family. With a contact in Singapore, he planned to move his family south where he could find better opportunities.

It seems that God had a plan of his own.

With 15 dollars in his pocket he left his children and pregnant wife and boarded a plane to Bangkok, Thailand. From Bangkok he planned to find his way to Singapore. He was given temporary residence at ***’s mission’s house and office. The rule had been guests could only stay for a maximum of two weeks. He stayed at the house, afraid to open a refrigerator that belonged to strangers. He survived eating peanuts and rice and drinking water from the pipe. He had a talent for fixing things and he made himself useful repairing whatever he could and running errands to the post office. Eventually, the office workers took a liking to the humble Burmese man.

“You can stay here until you find a job,” they told him.

One day he was helping packaging Bibles to be sent to Vietnam. He prayed, “Lord I have never been to Vietnam, but if people become Christians because of these Bibles maybe I can receive part of the reward in heaven.”

It wasn’t long afterward that his contact in Singapore called. The opportunity had opened up for him to go and find work. He went to Sonny, who would later become ***’s International Director, and took him aside. His eyes glimmered with sincerity.

“If I can make two dollars in a secular job or one dollar serving the Lord, I will choose serving the Lord,” he told Sonny.

“Ok,” Sonny said. “Work with me.” He served at the *** offices fixing appliances and managing the facility.

He survived with a salary of 100 US dollars a month, keeping 50 dollars and sending the rest home to his wife
and three children. Until finally, he could no longer go on.

“I can’t go any further,” he told Sonny. “I need to bring my family.”

“Good. You can bring your family,” he answered.

After years working in the *** office, he was trained in the SOW-H program, an all-encompassing discipleship course that covered the essential aspects of Christianity. At the time his English was poor and his confidence had yet to evolved. After finishing the program he found himself empowered by the Holy Spirit and was emboldened to share his faith. He became a teacher for new students and a leader in the local Burmese church. The more he discipled others the more his confidence grew. In 1994, he replaced the senior pastor of the church.

Today, the church has flourished and includes five sister churches with altogether over 1000 regular attendees. Through the years his family struggled financially and experienced barely surviving on a month-to-month basis. Many times he and his wife cried on their knees, praying and entrusting themselves to God. He testifies today that despite financial hardships, since choosing to serve the Lord, all his needs have been met.

“When you take care of God’s business, he takes care of yours,” Thomas said.

Thomas sharing with a church in Myanmar

In January 2009, Thomas received an honorary doctorate degree for his work that has brought so many to faith. He is the respected head pastor of a growing church in Bangkok, a missionary to Asia, and also a loving husband and father.

Twenty years removed from his days driving a taxicab in Myanmar, Thomas has one thing he wants to tell the world:

"I will never regret serving the Lord."

Storehouses

***report***

Nestled deep within the mountains of Laos lays a village in the Luangpraban district. If you can tread the six kilometers of unpaved road to this serene village you will find nearly 100 families living in bamboo houses.

Here in this village the wind carries a fresh scent untainted by the smog and pollution of the city. A gentle stream flowing from the mountain provides sustenance for the people. You watch as village children shoulder gallons of water tied to wooden poles on either ends. Make your way less than one kilometer to the end of the village and you will find a structure, standing over 10 feet tall and filled six feet high with corn stalks. This storehouse is what local Christian workers have come to call a Harvest Center.

Harvest Center in Laos

Beside the Harvest Center is the home of the local pastor. Inside his house, behind closed doors, key Christian leaders sit cross-legged on the floor, encircling a respected pastor. Their eyes remain fixed on their leader as they take in every word of instruction and exhortation.

According to a Laotian missionary named Pastor Paul, Harvest Centers like the one in this village play a crucial role in reaching the Lao nation with the gospel. Harvest Centers provide not only sustenance for the church but also a central location where Christian leaders can meet for training without government harassment.

“We purposely initiated the Harvest Centers to be mission stations where church leaders can be prepared, equipped, trained, coached and mentored,” says Paul.

In Laos’ socialist republic, the constitution allows for freedom of religion. Despite this, government officials incite local authorities to persecute Christians. Because Christian activity is seen as “disruptive”, the government has declared the Christian religion as an enemy of the state. Oftentimes, pastors and leaders traveling on local roads are reported as missing and at later times are never found. Facing the constant threat of imprisonment and even death, pastors and leaders are forced to continue with their work knowing that “there is nothing they can do but trust God.”

“We can not worry about the government. If we worry about the government we cannot work,” says Paul.

Persecution of Christians in Laos occurs in varying degrees, depending mostly on whether or not Christians can maintain good relationships with local authorities. Regional ****** **** missionaries are aiming to equip local pastors with a new mindset.

“[For the] unbeliever their concept is that [everything] belongs to a guardian spirit,” says Paul. “There are guardian spirits in the rice fields, in the plantation, in their house. It is animism or spirit worshiping. That’s why they are in bondage. That is why we want to inform them the reality. We need to give them the right concept. “ According to Paul pastors must be able to show the people a perspective where

“God is the center. Christ is the center and everything belongs to God- even every area of the land.”

In a nation with 49 tribes and 100 languages the task to fulfill the Great Commission is not easy. ****** **** ********** hopes to build two more Harvest Center in the future. Pray that Harvest Centers will continue to empower the Lao people so that the they can find true freedom in Jesus Christ.

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. “

Romans 8:1-2 (ESV)

A Moment in History/ And a Brush With Evil

***narrative journal***


It is a moment in history for the United States of America. You have probably heard this many times thus far, but decades from now people will recall this day and say I was here, or I was doing such and such.

For myself, I will remember this day being thousands of miles away from America- in another culture and in another world. I will tell my children that on this day, the world heard a message of hope, but when I walked a Bangkok city street, all I saw was evil. On this day I felt, heard and could almost touch an insurmountable wickedness. On that street in Silom I could almost hear an unvoiced cry. It was a despair that beckoned for something greater than our ability to hope or to carry out human ideologies. It was a kind of despair that drives you to look for a savior...

Barack Obama is sworn in as the 44th President of the United States

****

January 21, 2009 Bangkok
January 20, 2009 USA

Roadhouse Grill on Rama IV road was renowned for serving authentic American food. The three story building stood prominently on the corner of Rama IV road and Surawong road. While the historic event was taking place on a Monday morning in the States it was Tuesday and almost midnight in Bangkok. The Sunday before I had met an expat from LA who invited some friends and I to join in the night’s inaugural festivities.

“Jawt tee nee,” I told the cab driver to stop. I and my German friend, named Timotheus, exited the taxi. Timo was a 23-year old college student who lived just seven minutes from my place. He was German white, and stuck out in Bangkok like a black bean on rice. He actually was born in Thailand and spoke pretty good Thai. In reality, even though I look like I'm Thai, I was more the black bean and he was more like white rice.

We crossed the busy street. We flung open the heavy doors and stepped into a bar-like scene. On a historic day for America the building was filled to well above its capacity. CNN was blasting from the television screens. Obama t-shirts were arrayed around the room and red, white and blue balloons had been tied to the ceiling. Timo and I found ourselves shoulder-to-shoulder in a crowd of mostly middle-aged farangs (foreigners) who had turned the restaurant into a beehive of laughing, eating and drinking and talking politics.

Obama’s speech wouldn’t be for at least another hour. We found our Thai friend named AJ in the middle of the crowd.

“What's up!” I screamed over the noise.

“Hey man!” AJ screamed back. We spent at least thirty minutes trying to yell over the noise. I grew frustrated. I hated crowds and I needed to get some air.

“Its too crowded in here,” I said. “Let’s go get food and come back for the speech.”

We descended down the three stories, out the door and into the street. We had only taken at least a dozen steps when suddenly we were stopped by a man with a stack of tickets shoved into his back pocket.

“Good show!" he said. "No cover! Ladyboys!” My heart cringed. A ladyboy was a transvestite man who, upon first glance, looked very much like a woman.

I took a second to look the man in the eyes, searching for a source of conviction- a drop of reason. His eyes were like glass- empty- this man was acting only on instinct. We ignored him and kept talking about where wanted to eat, but the man kept going.

“Ladyboy show!” he said again, as he moved closer. “Song roi…”

I turned my back to him as he was in mid-sentence. Just the image of men parlaying at a "ladyboy show" gave me a gag reflex. I looked about the soi. The street was crowded and their seemed to be an unusual amount of farang walking about. I was surprised. It was nearly 11 pm but the lights were bright and people were eating and milling about as if it were midday.

On the other side of the street I saw a large, fluorescent sign reflecting blue and green light against the black asphalt. From inside the disco I could hear techno music thumping, reverberating out the entrance and into the street. Inside, I could only see shadowed movement.

Down the street, there was a business called “Health Spa”. Outside a half dozen men were reclining on chairs or lying on their sides at the steps. They shared a common uniform- tight white polo shirt and tiny black shorts. The men’s legs were shaved, their hair was long and dyed, and their eyebrows were plucked to a point. Behind them there was a dark stairway that carried away customers to gloomy, white washed rooms.

I turned away and lifted my head towards the night sky. My stomach and heart seemed to meet somewhere in the middle.

Behind me I could hear the guy speaking rapidly in Thai, trying to entice my other two friends. They ignored him and kept talking to each other. Above me the clouds were floating high above all the bright lights and street bustle. “God, why am I here?” I thought to myself.

“Let’s go this way,” AJ said. We walked up the sidewalk and away from the ticket seller who was still trying to get us to buy tickets. As we walked I looked through the windows of the stores and ignored the street merchant asking us to buy their trinkets. Each alley we passed I saw another street like the one we walked on. The lights and raucous crowds seemed to go on forever.

“Do you know where we are?” AJ asked me as we walked along the sidewalk.

“This is Silom district right?” I said.

“This is the red light district,” he replied. “If you are here they assume you come for sex.”

Right then I looked up and saw a husky Caucasian man sauntering past us on the sidewalk. The middle-aged man had a smug look as he held hands with a petite Thai woman. I could feel a match light inside of me. I remembered a statistic that a friend had shared to my Bible study group just the week before. His voice echoed in my mind: “70 percent of tourists to Thailand are men traveling alone. 70 percent of those men are going to participate in the sex trade.” Around me I noticed even more farangs with more Thai girls and that same smug look.

Timo was hungry. He was standing next to a street vendor and eyeing their display of pork and chicken. From behind the vendor two scantily clad women were sitting cross-legged at a table, looking Timo over as he inspected the food.

“Too expensive,” Timo said. He started walking away, crossing to the other side of the street. The two women returned to their meal.

“Is it always this crowded here?” I asked AJ.

“Yea, its always this crowded. Even at night.” He replied.

Timo kept walking looking for a place to get cheap food. He found soup for 35 baht (1 USD). Satisfied, Timo took his 35 baht bowl and we walked to some plastic tables and chairs set up alongside the street.

There was just only one available table. A Thai woman dressed in a short-skirted dress was sitting alone at a table for four. Timo ventured over and set his food right across from the woman. I was surprised, but then I remembered that in Asia people live in much closer proximity to one another. I wasn’t used to it, but I followed and took a seat at the table.

When we sat I noticed something slightly disjointed about the woman.

She was fidgeting in her chair. When she lifted the spoon to her mouth her eyes would dart left and right, blinking in a rhythm that sent a slight chill down my spine. I tried to ignore it.

“AJ how was your day?” I said.

“It was good man,” said AJ. “We took a three-hour lunch today. Our boss is out of town.”

As we spoke, I could still see the woman in the corner of my eye. She was hunched over her bowl chewing her food and twitching her jaw in that same uneven pace.
Suddenly, the woman shouted out in Thai. It didn’t seem like she was talking to anyone particular. Across the table AJ’s eyes grew large as the woman kept screaming. He barely turned his head as he stole a glance at the woman.

“What is she saying?” I asked as she kept yelling out into the air.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Something about only having 10 baht.”

She screamed into the air one more time and stood up and left the table.

The three of us took a moment and looked at each other.

“I hear stories about women who go to the temples and make contracts with the devil,” Timo said.

“Really?” I said. I told them I noticed she was acting weird.

“I didn’t notice,” said AJ.

We sat silently as Timo finished his food.

“Hey guys I want to pray for her,” Timo said.

We bowed our heads as he prayed for the woman and the people in the red light district. By the time we made our way back to the restaurant the crowd was even thicker. There was a buzz in the air as former presidents began to appear on the screens. From Ford to Clinton to the Bushes there was almost an aura of kingliness. Of course there were a number of “boos” when George W appeared on the screen. Then, looking as solemn and as presidential as ever, Obama appeared, inciting the roaring applause of the people in the restaurant. They applauded and shouted his name. Some even screamed at the top of their lungs, chanting “Yes We can!”. High fives and handshakes and hugs were shared all around.

After Obama was sworn in, he began his speech. As his voice boomed from the television sets, silence swept the three-story building.

“My fellow citizens: I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation...... as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition. Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath.

The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans…”

On that early morning in Bangkok, some cried and some laughed. Whether you hate or love Obama it can't be disputed that this was a momentous occasion in history.

For myself, I’m not sure if this will serve as the marker for America’s rebirth or last hurrah. From that night, I will remember that street in Silom. I will remember the pressing image of evil. And I will remember that I report directly to an authority who holds an office greater than the office of presidency. His term is eternal and I will hold myself accountable to report to him on that last day. Taking the taxi home, I prayed for President Obama- for his safety and the future of our nation.

Years from now I will tell my children that on January 20, 2009 (21st in Bangkok), I was on a street in Silom, Bangkok, when Barrack Obama became the 44th president of the United States. On the streets I saw evil on a day when many were given hope.

"Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

Matthew 6:10

Dear Friends and Familly

**a letter to my supporters**

I spent my Christmas and New Years in the Philippines where I was able to share the gospel with my dad's family in the province. (pictured on the right) I guess if you follow Jesus we are all missionaries and we are continuously called to share who He is with whatever opportunity he gives us.

Here in Bangkok, I have some publications to write and design before our International Conference in March. So it looks like I will be laboring for God from behind the desk! I'll be putting the traveling on hold for a while. Still, I do hope to take a trip to a Karen refugee camp in February and I'm praying to get a chance to work inside China.

Whether we are working hard in California or at a desk in Bangkok, I envision us as one body, laboring together for the Kingdom of God. Thank you for your prayerful support. I am glad to report that here in Asia, God has changed me in such a way that even though I am supposed to be a writer, I cannot find any words to express what He has done in my life.

Thank you for enduring with me until the end. I look forward to be able to write you and tell you what God has in store for me for my near future. Once I discover more, I will be sure to let you know.

" Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain."
- 1 Corinthians 15:58

Sincerely,

EJ ********

Obituary for an Idealist

*** an excerpt from my personal journal***

Jan. 1, 2009

I tried to take time to be reflective and write down everything that I’m thankful for in the year 2008. Of course on my list there were the undervalued and often mentioned family, friends and health.

I found within myself a sense of irony, when in trying to reflect upon thanksgiving I found myself drawn to this year's personal failures and disappointments. And there have been many. It is ironic that after having seemingly failed and underachieved in so many aspects in my life that God has brought me farther than I ever could have gone on my own strength. Yes, I can concur that it is only when steel is bent in the furnace of failure that it can be formed into the image of God’s only son. The fire- the torrid flame- is the only passage through a person of haughty countenance can ascend. If failure is the precursor to glory than I can only continue to claim my failures as my utmost thanksgiving.

I realize my own limitations. If I could write an obituary for the death of an idealistic youth, I would. Standing on the cusp of 2009 when I will turn just 23-years-old, I realize that the fallout of youthful idealism is that it is tainted by pride. It fails to realize that our foresight is shallow; we are not invincible, we cannot fly and death is our shared destiny. This is a doorway to adulthood that I have felt most excruciatingly sobering because it reveals the frailty of my own humanness.

I see in my own reflection, limited and finite creation, clinging to the infinite and omnipotent Creator. I confess that as a man, finite and broken, I am limited in my human ability to carry out the divine plan.

In all this I have yet to relinquish idealism in itself and I don’t plan to for as long as I have breath. I have only put it into the hands of One who is greater than I- the One who fights on my own behalf- for the fulfillment of my joy and peace. I can only hope that my personal idealism can be steeped in reality and rooted in God’s willingness to carry out his will for his own name’s sake. Through the years and seasons may he never find me lacking in zeal, but may I be resolved to forget about what is behind and press on towards the upward calling that Jesus has given me. By his sustaining grace may he lead me through every failure, every disappointment, every glory and every blessing. Cheers to 2009.

Lead Me to the Rock
Psalm 63: 1-5
Of David

1Hear my cry, O God,
listen to my prayer;
2from the end of the earth I call to you
when my heart is faint.
Lead me to the rock
that is higher than I,
3for you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the enemy.
4Let me dwell in your tent forever!
Let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings!
Selah
5 For you, O God, have heard my vows;
you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.

It's Not a Vacation, It's an Adventure

***narrative***

It’s my ‘vacation’ and I’m in Manila, Philippines- the motherland. Manila is the major metropolitan city in all of Philippines. It’s just like Bangkok, but definitely not as clean and ten times less safe.

I’m staying at my organization’s office, which has to be locked by an additional heavy metal door and three locks. Our office here has a bedroom on the second floor where I sleep at night and have been waking up every morning at 6 am because of noisy traffic on the street. The place is just walking distance from some of the city’s major malls, a convenience store and a basketball gym. Needless to say its location is not just comfortable- it’s exceptionally convenient. Come to find it my residency here could be divine.

Today I was looking through the glass door and across the street and I saw some kids playing basketball. Filipinos love to hoop. I miss the game a lot so I went over there to watch them play, and I was a little nervous (this was the Filipino hood and I didn't want to get robbed). There were about 8 of them in a small area probably just 20-25 sq feet. They all were shirtless and playing barefoot. I stood off to the side and watched. Trying to be inconspicuous, I listened to the ball's rythm against the ground and its' clang against the backboard. I could feel the "itch" starting up inside of me. I felt it- the insatiable desire to play. I couldn't help it. I had to scratch it. They had finished their game and some guys were eying me, muttering to each other in Tagalog.

"Can I shoot one?" I asked. I stepped forward and into the middle of the tiny court.

"Yea," they said. I touched the ball and felt its grip on my hand. I pressed my palm against the dirt and the rubber, and took a shot. Net. The sound was like fluidity for my soul. I missed this game. I looked over at the Filipinos sitting down at the side. They had just finished playing.

"Isa-pa," I said putting my finger in the air with a sense of challenge. Isa-pa, the word meant "one more" in Tagalog.

They all got excited and started yelling out. "Welcome to the hood! Welcome to the hood!" They all started pelvic thrusting in a motion that was likely imitating some rap video they had seen on tv.

"You can play one-on-one," said one of the taller guys. He prodded one of the youths forward. From watching them play, I knew he was their best player, but I savored the challenge. Later on this week, a friend of mine was going to do me a favor and contact his nephew who was an agent for some imported pro basketball players in Manila. Since, I was trying to run with some pros, I needed to remember how to play the game.

James was shoeless and shirtless, wearing just a pair of boxers. The rim was smaller, the ground was unlevel but it was still basketball. And I love basketball.

Even though I was on the other side of the world, I knew the rules of hoops on the street. On the street it’s not about making money. It's not even about winning. More than anything, it's about gaining respect. We played a game to 11 while the others watched, color commentating in Tagalog. I could see some of the older Filipinos peaking through their doors- just watching keenly.

I finished the game with a spinning fade away on the left baseline (or concrete wall).

"Good game man," I told James, extending my hand.

"Good game," he said taking my hand. I had got it. Respect.

"Hey you're welcome here man!” said one Filipino. “We play here everyday. Come to the hood and play!"

The guys started asking me questions while James went inside to get me a drink of water. Using a mix of Tagalog and English (I'm poor at speaking the language) I told them I was a missionary from Bangkok and that I missed basketball because in Thailand all they have is Muay Thai. For fear of getting robbed, I didn't tell them I lived right across the street, and neither did I tell them I was born in America. I told them I was from Quezon City, which was actually the part of Manila where my father grew up.

"Do you drink wine?" they asked.

"Siempre," I said with a smile. "But only two or three. I don't get drunk."

"Do you smoke weed?"

"I'm a missionary man." I answered. "I share about Jesus. I don’t smoke weed. Weed makes you lazy."

They nodded their heads. “Yea it does,” said one Filipino.

"But it makes you happy," one guy said laughing to his friends.

"Jesus makes me happy," I said, silencing his laughter and letting his other friends think.

They invited me to play on their team in a league versus other boroughs. They gave me their number and I left to go work out in a boxing gym that was a block up the street. I was going hard and in a full sweat when I saw a couple of the teenage kids from playing basketball looking at me through the window, smiling at me while I was working the bag. I smiled back and gave them my best kick and put my thumb in the air. Smiling ear to ear, they put their thumbs up and turned around and went on their way.

On my way back to the office I saw the kids lingering in the front of the street, smoking some cigarettes. To tell you the truth, I was afraid to go into where I was staying for fear that those guys would later rob the place. I was warned before that this was a dangerous area. So I gave them a head nod and walked past where I was staying. I walked up the block and slowed to a stop. There was an old hobo looking guy sitting on some steps and a bunch of guys walking around that looked just a little bit too desperate. Crud. I didn't know what to do. If I just walked into the office and showed them where I lived, I was risking a possible robbery in the future. If I continued wandering up the street I was risking someone robbing me right now.

"God what do I do?" I asked God to keep me safe and to be with me. I decided to walk across the street and try to befriend them some more. I figured, they wouldn't do anything to someone they considered one of themselves. So I dodged through oncoming Gypnies and Motorcycle Taxis and went over. It turns out that the Filipinos are HUGE fans of the UFC. A trait that we have in common. I actually worked with a UFC magazine before I left for Asia. So I talked with the guys for a good 15-20 minutes about the UFC. They were animated and excited to talk to me. We ended up talking about Muay Thai, since two of them saw me working out in the gym up the block. They told me they were all high school kids going to the same Catholic school between 16 and 20 years old. One of them was 26.

James asked me to teach them Muay Thai for self-defense, because there was a lot of robbers up the street who did hold ups with knives and rocks. I was a basketball coach for the YMCA back in California. I had coached youths from 4- 12 years old for the last four years. But this wasn't basketball and these were high school kids. This was Muay Thai, and I had only been training for four months. I was only using it for exercise and I didn't want these kids beating up on some defenseless kid on the street.

"I am only training," I said. "I'm not a teacher. My friend from Cavite (Filipino province), he is a real teacher, I just train."

"We want to know how to defend ourselves," James said. "All we know how to do is street fight."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I had an idea.

"I will teach you Muay Thai," I said. "Pero (but) you have to let me teach you the Bible. I'm a missionary man. One story from the Bible for one lesson."

They all looked at each other.

"Ok!" James said. "Teach us Muay Thai."

"That is a good strategy," someone else said to me. They asked me if I was going to become a priest and I told them that I was just a regular guy, like anybody else.

"Hey it's getting late, said the 18-year old Filipino. "We have to go inside now."

"Ok tayo-na," I said. "I will see you tomorrow."

They all started giving me handshakes- their version was a hand-clasp with a forearm-to-chest bump.

"Hey we're G's now!" said James. " We have to give our secret handshake."

I taught them the way we did the handshake back home in America- Finger clasp to palm clasp and a forearm to the chest. They all laughed and went inside. I crossed the street and went into my place finished with another day and amazed at God’s providence. I asked myself:

“How am I going to teach these guys Muay Thai and show them the gospel?” I let out a breath. God give me grace.

A Filipino Christmas: Fely Bartolome

***vlog from Christmas day***

A Filipino Christmas: Better than a Hotel

***vlog***

December Update + Flying to PI Por Christmas

***vlog***

After the Storm

***report***

The man leans forward like a drunkard in the pew. He buries his face in his palms, as a guest preacher’s voice booms from the pulpit.

Six months after the Nargis Cyclone, Reverend Shane attends the annual Baptist gathering. He can still feel the effects of the cyclone that killed hundreds of thousands in Myanmar’s Irrawaddy delta. As the village pastor he has had to be strong, encouraging the people while still recovering from his own loss.

But on this morning in November, Reverend Shane can only drown in his pain. Before that fateful day in May, he was a husband and father of three growing children.

Now he and his 11-year-old son are the only ones from his family left.

Shane’s eyes become lost as he recalls the night he and thousands of others lost their families.

“I want to testify that God’s and our plans are sometimes different,” Shane says. On that night in May, Shane planned to rescue his entire family. But his plans failed when his seven-day old son was dropped in the flood and his wife and daughter succumbed to the powerful wind and waves.

Months later, Shane can still taste the salt water in his throat.

While the road to recovery remains long, experts predict that it will take 2-3 years for life in the delta to return back to normal. Currently, relief workers are aiming to rebuild homes and provide water. The rebuilding has proved a long and tedious task, as it requires over a days journey on a boat to reach the infected areas. Many of the villages still live in temporary housing.

Meanwhile, hundreds upon thousands of orphans have been displaced to cities such as Pathein and Myawmya. In these cities, relief work has been organized allowing for the outsourcing of supplies and aid.

Currently relief workers find that the biggest challenge for the affected areas has been the restoring of livelihood. Farming has proved difficult as flooding destroyed the soil. In Shane’s village, farmers have only been able to produce 2 out of 50 acres.

On this morning in November, Reverend Shane buries his face in his palms. There is much work to be done, but for now, he can only mourn for his lost wife, son and daughter. For days following the cyclone, Shane remained in denial, refusing to go out and bury his family. He finally forced himself to go out and recover the bodies. To keep his spirits lifted, he encouraged the children along the road.

“I want to thank God,” he says between his tears.” Because we are not like unbelievers without hope.”
While the cyclone is nine months past, the survivors are still dealing with the devastating affects. Since May, many have faithfully responded financially and prayerfully. May you continue to pray that the villages will receive both physical and spiritual aid. Pray that the people will rebuild their lives on the unwavering rock that is the word of Jesus Christ. Pray that the local churches will be rebuilt with a strong spiritual foundation so that they can serve as a refuge for any future tragedies.

“Whoever comes to Me, and hears My sayings and does them, I will show you whom he is like: He is like a man building a house, who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock. And when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently against that house, and could not shake it, for it was founded on the rock.” Mark 6:47-68 (NKJV)

Courage Road

***narrative journal***


It was an old white-washed Toyota Corolla, a model probably from the early 80’s. Our hired driver was a ******* man with a kind smile and teeth stained by red Koon-ya (the country’s version of tobacco). Instead of pants, he wore a sarong, which was the country’s type of kilt. We loaded our bags into the car and set off into the night. Once we were out of the city we found ourselves on a road forged in the midst of trees.

I tried to make out anything beyond the road. But it was pitch black, and with our headlights on we could only see a few feet ahead. The car jolted up and down against the unpaved road. Slowly, we made our way, twisting and turning to avoid the countless potholes. Through the trees I could hear the distant sound of ethnic music, blasting from what sounded like an old stereo system.

“Ajon, I hear music.” I said. “Where is that coming from?”

“A village,” he replied. “Maybe they are having a wedding.”

At 50-years old Reverend Ajon was both my friend and guide. He was a stout, rounded native who never seemed to be lacking any joy. As a seasoned pastor and missionary, I was learning much, just by watching him.

In the back seat I reclined and put my hand out the window, cupping my palm against the wind. I was bouncing up and down like a pinball. I gritted my teeth. The car’s suspension system felt like it was put together with steel bars.

I looked out the window and let out a soft breath. The stars were shining brightly against an unadulterated, crisp black sky. It was almost majestic. This country was poor, but it didn’t have all the big industries to clog the air. The sky was stellar, immovable- a constant reminder of my Creator who had brought me so far. For some reason, I felt an indelible peace. With every pothole we passed I was getting closer to seeing the victims of the cyclone.

I began to pray silently.

“Dear God, please, please let me help the people affected by the cyclone. Please use whatever I have to give… I can write. I can report. Whatever. Just let me help…”

I repeated the prayer again and again. I just wanted to help. When I was in Laos a month ago, I learned that the Laos government’s number one enemy was Christianity. Now I was traveling in *****, where the number one enemy of the state was journalists. I was no martyr and I was just as scared as anyone else. But one thing I wanted to be was obedient to God and faithful to those supporting me.

A week before I was at my desk in Bangkok, working at my computer when Dalma said to me:

“Eric, maybe it’s better you come back as soon as you can. You know? The last journalist who went was put in prison for 12 years.”

“Really?” I said.

I felt the blood fall from my face. I imagined spending the next 12 years in prison. I had heard stories of Christians put in stocks, without a bathroom, eating porridge everyday from a bowl. I imagined life as a 34-year-old hapless, middle-aged man. Bangkok was comfortable, and something in me wanted to stay. But then, I thought of all the people who were supporting me back home. I remembered why I left America. I had a mission.

Courage. Trust God. He brought you here for a reason.

I tried to keep proactive words ringing in my head. I decided to be steadfast and resolute- if God opened up a door for me to enter any highly restricted areas, I’d walk through it- no matter the consequences.

“You okay bro?” Ajon turned back from the passenger seat. We were still driving down the road with nothing in sight.

“Yes sir,” I smiled. “I am fine.”

We rolled up on a government checkpoint. As we slowed to a halt, I pretended to sleep. I put a hand on my digital SLR next to me in my bag. In the trunks I had a camcorder, with tapes and a tripod. An officer with a rifle bent down and peeked through the window. He muttered some words in *******. Since we all looked like natives, he recorded our information and waved us past. As we sped through Ajon and the driver muttered something to each other. I took a look at Ajon. He was cool as ice.

The dust from the road blew against my face, encrusting in my hair and clothes. The grains of sand were almost palpable. I shut my eyes and imagined a sandy beach in California. I imagined myself running across the shoreline with the wind in my face. I was surfing a wave, in the next moment I was laughing with friends.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I awoke some hours later, but the time was 2 am.

“We’re here bro.” Ajon said from outside the car.

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and pushed myself out the car. We made it.

****

An Undisclosed Location

***video log***

Through the Border

***work update***

This is the first Through the Border that I had the chance to write and design. It will be released in December. For future publications I have created a template for a new format that will include more earthy tones and a more professional feel. Hopefully, it will debut sometime in the beginning of next year.

On a side note, I'm super thankful that I get to use my meager skills to in some way, give a voice to the people.

Workers Trained for the Harvest

***report***
***to be published in December's TTB***

Last summer’s 2008 Beijing Olympics proved to be a visual spectacle. Spending billions of dollars and enlisting the skills of over 15,000 Nationals, the Chinese nation won international recognition for its creative genius and economic affluence.

Behind the enchanting exhibition, China’s Communist government intensified its persecution against Christians by beating, imprisoning and evicting church leaders and their families. Many Christians suffered as China sought to present itself to the world as a controlled and united country.

One circulated account is the story of Pastor “Bike” Zhang Mingxuan, an outspoken evangelist known for sharing his faith and passing out literature while riding his bike. Days before the Olympics, one report cites that Public Security Officials used iron bars to beat Bike’s eldest son for 25 minutes. PSO then evicted Bike’s wife out of their home, throwing their furniture out the window and onto the street. During the games, Bike, his wife and a coworker were imprisoned.

Since the summer, the number of human right violations against Christians has increased as the government has made a concerted effort to put a stop to the house church movement. While the underground house-church movement remains nearly impossible to monitor, some speculate the growth has escalated to numbers reaching over 60 million people. Like in many nations in the ARNA, in China, Christianity is deemed as a religion that threatens the unity of the state. While the government allows for state controlled churches, it is illegal to make converts.

Through its China and Beyond (CAB) program Ethnos Asia Ministries works to carry out the vision to “strengthen the church in China to fulfill her calling for world mission.” Working mainly in the Southwest China region in the Yunnan, Guizhou, Sichuan, Hainan, Guanxi, and Guangdong provinces, CAB has implemented the School of Workers (SOW) program to equip the nationals for ministry.

The SOW training consists of a two-part program, where participants learn everything from Bible basics to prayer to evangelism to spiritual gifting. After taking the first session, participants are required to go out and convert as well as disciple five people. Once a leader reaches 5 disciples they are allowed to return for the second session. After graduating from the second session they are then required to get 10 more converts and disciples. Afterwards graduates can teach their own SOW programs. With basic training and a simple faith, believers leave SOW training ready and energized to put what they learn into practice.

Filled with the characteristic zeal and a simple faith, SOW trained believers have been telling others about Jesus. A woman named Yude (pronounced “eedee”) from the Lisu tribe left the first session and returned in six months with 80 converts. She is now the pastor of a church movement that has been graciously increased and includes over 1,200 people in 35 house groups. CAB co-director Margaret Austen states the explosive growth in the house-church movement has created a tremendous need for trained teachers.

In 18 months SOW program has met the call by training over 200 Chinese from seven provinces. “[The SOW program] has proven itself. Time and time again. We need more and more SOWs,” Austen said.
SOW administrators project that in three more years, 30,000 nationals will be trained through the program.

SOW graduates serve the tribal people of China- many of whom live in mountainous regions that have not been visited in over 20 years. For many of these tribal believers having a Bible is a luxury that very few can enjoy. Bible couriers testify that in one village, tribal Chinese tearfully received a single Bible. The Bible was soon divided into parts so that it could be circulated throughout the village.

“It is our desire to conduct SOW in the whole of Southwest China- in every city and to every tribe,” said See, director of CAB. “[We want] to train leaders so that they can train their own people in their own language and share the Gospel.”

As EAM works to strengthen the church in China, key leaders foresee a new struggle more pervasive than government persecution. As China continues to develop, believers face the temptation of turning away to materialism.

“The danger in China now is materialism in the church. Communism is no longer the danger,” said Austen. “Let us pray that their commitment [to the gospel] remains the same.”

As government persecution persists, one Chinese pastor is not praying for God to remove the persecution. When visitors promised him that they would pray God to take away the persecution he gave a surprising response. The pastor asked the visitors to not ask God to remove the persecution.

"Because where there is no persecution the church sleeps,” he said. “It’s only when persecution comes that the church wakes up and does what it’s called to do.”

A popular Chinese proverb says, “Pure gold fears no fire”. While believers in this restricted country continue to undergo trials and intense persecution, their circumstances has allowed them to receive a treasure greater than gold.

1 Peter 1:6-7 says, “In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you have been grieved by various trials, that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”
Through its School of Workers program EAM will continue to equip the body of Christ to serve the unreached people of China. Pray for the strength of believers in access-restricted China.




Pastor Bike, his wife and coworker were arrested two days before the beginning of the Olympics. According to the China Aid Association, they were kept under house arrest at a resort so that they could not speak with media. They were released 21 days later with testimonies of how they shared the gospel with officials and guards.

Working Late (video log)

***video log***