The honeymoon is over

I left my hotel, after getting only 4 hours of sleep. I was groggy and a little cranky. My usual taxi driver couldn’t make it, so he sent a replacement. He asked if I was a priest. I told him that I’m a minister—a type of priest who gets to get married and have kids. He asked if I was Catholic. I said no, that I’m evangelical. (In Peru, non-Catholics are evangelicals or Christians. It’s painful for me that Catholics do not consider themselves to be Christian.) He proceeded to tell me about how he attended a seminary for three years, preparing to be a priest. In the end, he chose to get married, have kids and become a taxi driver. He’s been driving the same route for more than 50 years!

As we chatted, I decided to ask him “The Big Question.” The Big Question is “who is Jesus.” My friend H.L. Hussman says that you can believe a lot of things, but if you get this question wrong, you won’t make it into heaven. It’s the ultimate witnessing tool. The taxi driver answered the question, saying, “Jesus is always on my thoughts.” There was no mention of Jesus as savior or Lord. For the majority of Peruvians, Jesus is a 2nd tier player in the Pantheon of the gods. It seems, at times, in latin culture that Christ’s main purpose is to remind us how important it is to suffer. (The Pantheon was that place in Greek and Roman mythology where the gods would hang out—sort of like Starbucks, but with better prices.) The big player in the Peruvian pantheon is Mary. Peruvians have a saying that the wife is the real boss of the house. As such, Mary has the final say in what goes down in heaven. Hanging from the taxi driver’s mirror was a picture frame with a picture on each side. One side had a photo of a European statue of Mary in the style of the middle ages. She was, of course, white and about 11 years old. (It galls me that people here believe it’s better to be white. Dark skinned people are, to them, of lesser value. Mary, as a Jew, was not white!) The statue was wearing a huge crown and robes that would have made Luis XIV sweat gallons. On the other side was a photo of a plaster statue of Jesus. He was also white, with long blonde hair. He was NOT wearing a crown. Instead, he got to wear clothes made for a girl. He was, and ever shall be, about 3 years old.

This is the point where my honeymoon with Peru was over. Usually, I’m very cordial and gentle when confronting paganism. But, after a year here, I’m also frustrated. It appears to me that nobody is speaking the truth here. Paganism is so ingrained in the Peruvian identity that to speak against worshipping a statue is to speak against who they are. Jesus came to save us from these lies! I showed him the picture of Mary and asked, “What’s this?”

He said, “It’s the mother of God!”

I said, “The mother of God never wore a gold crown or fine robes.”

He laughed and said, “Yea. She’s really important. She intervenes for us with Jesus. She gets us what we want. When my daughter was born, there were complications. I went to Mary and she intervened, making Jesus give us what we wanted. My daughter was born healthy and now she’s a doctor. All of this good fortune was due to Mary. You have to pray to Mary to get what you want.”

I said, “Don’t you fear God? God has made it clear in the Bible that we are not to worship pagan idols. Of the 10 commandments, the first is that there is only one God and you should worship him alone. God is very offended that you would worship Mary. She is a saint, worthy of honor, but she is human. She is saved by Jesus, just like you and I. She is not omnipresent. She doesn’t hear our prayers and she doesn’t have the authority to tell God what to do. This is nothing more than paganism and it is very offensive to God.”

He said, “Yea, but she sure worked for me. She gives me good luck all the time. That’s why I keep that photo there. She keeps my car running and all my kids have grown up to be professionals.”

I said, “I think God had grace one you and you’ve chosen to give the credit to Mary.”

He said, “Yea, I hear what you’re saying, but I think it doesn’t matter what a person believes—it’s just important to believe something.”

I replied, “My friend, that’s loco. If I believed the street was made out of water, it wouldn’t be true.”

He said, “You’re right there.”

I continued, “God has already told us what we’re supposed to believe about him. He has made it clear that there is only one God and that we should not worship anyone else. He has told us clearly that no matter how good with think someone else is, we are not to worship or pray to that person. God is offended by that. I don’t want to believe things that are false, just because they suit my personal tastes. I want to know God for who he really is and have a real relationship with a real person. That’s what God wants too. That is why he gave us the Bible. But in Peru, the majority of Catholics don’t want to read the Bible and they don’t want to know what God has said about himself.”

He agreed, saying, “You got that right! Catholics never want to read the Bible.” He continued, pointing to a pocket area in his dash, “I’ve got a New Testament right here.”

I replied, “I’m glad to see that.”

He said, “Yea, I had a chemical engineer from Nasa in my taxi once. He tried to tell me that we’re nothing more than dirt and chemicals, but I don’t agree. That guy was an example of how people make up crazy things to believe.”

I said, “You’re right, which is why it is so important to read the Bible and know what God has said about himself.” I then flipped the picture frame over and pointed to the picture of Jesus. I asked, “What’s that?”

He shouted in great triumph, “It the little boy, Jesus!”

I replied, “That is not the little boy Jesus. That is a plaster statue from Europe. Besides, Jesus isn’t a little boy, he’s an adult.”

“No!” He replied, in surprise, “He’s a little boy. It’s important to pray to the little boy, because he gives me what I want.”

I said, “He’s not a little boy anymore. He’s an adult. In fact, he’s a lot older than you are. I would hate it if my father adored a photo of me from when I was three years old, rather than having a real relationship me. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m an adult and I have adult relationships. We can’t just worship whatever we want. Jesus wants a real relationship.”

He said, “Yea,…whatever.”

That is where the conversation ended. We were at the airport and it was time to get out. With one simple word, he disregarded everything I said.

That is how many, though not all, conversations end here. Whatever. It’s painful, but it is not the end of the story. I remember a time when a friend in High School invited me to a Charismatic prayer meeting. She said, “People pray in tongues there.”

I told her, “No thanks, I’m satisfied with my current spirituality.” I was completely involved in drugs and the partying lifestyle. I had no spirituality. But I remember that invitation. God was wooing me. In Rev. 3:20, Jesus says, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” My friend’s invitation was one knock on the door. A few knocks later, I opened the door. People ask us, “What do you do in Peru?” My answer: Knock.

Ayacucho

Ayacucho is one of my favorite towns in Peru. It's nestled high in the Andes mountains and is more of what you think of (when you think of Peru) than most other towns. The people are Quechua indians and live simple lives. Here are some photos that tell part of their story.

This goes in the "guess what I'm eating" category. It's "mondongo," otherwise known as cow stomach. It's used to make soup and, of course, for stuffing full of other things. Here, as you would expect, it is being celebrated with balloons. Always remember to blow up the balloons and not the belly.

Ayacucho contains great examples of Spanish architecture.

The majority of the people are poor. This is a little market on the side of a busy road. The roof is just a tarp and some of the food is displayed on a tarp. The good news is that it's well stocked.

Hannah singing at Rockside church

When we were in the states for the World Mission Summit, we had the chance to minister at Rockside church in Cleveland, Ohio. One highlight was getting to sing with Hannah, while Colton backed us up on the drum. I've attached a video, on the video bar, below. I love my kids and it's very fulfilling ministering with them.

Priceless

Christmas gifts for 1700 kids: $4,500

Wrapping paper: $150

A wife that likes to wrap: Priceless

I have to say that Lena did not wrap them all alone--though she did lead the wrapping and packing part of the project. The youth group from the Union Church helped to wrap a bunch, as did Hannah and her friends. Another notable assistant was my friend, Oscar--the night guard at our apartment building, who wrapped in the wee hours of the morning. To those who provided the means to buy the gifts and those who wrapped them, I want to say, "Thank you and may God bless you!" Remember: The one who gives a cup of cold water to the least of these in Christ's name, has done it unto the Lord.

Four Peruvian Angels

Hannah and I were in one of the Peruvian markets, and were looking at some sweet little ornaments, when Hannah said to me, "Mom, we need to get something Peruvian for our tree! I agreed, and we bought four adorable little Peruvian angels (two girls, two boys), complete with chullos (the Peruvian hats that are popular even in the States now). I started thinking about how the children have taken Peru into their hearts and have started to grow a place in their hearts that will always belong to Peru. The rest of their lives will not be the same for having lived here, having seen both the beauty and extreme poverty of this place. They will always love Lomo Saltado (awesome Peruvian-style beef stir fry) and remember the many churches we visit that meet in tents with gravel floors, and they will never see their own culture through the same eyes again. I don't have to explain to them that there are people who don't have enough to eat or kids who live in just one little room with the rest of their family. They have met them, and some of them go to our church!

I recently had a conversation with a wonderful German missionary who grew up in Africa. She shared with me about how the African people sang in every event, happy or sad, and how they danced and expressed whatever they were feeling. She also spoke with pride and affection of the old hymns from Germany, and how wonderful they were, but remembered being surprised on return to Germany how differently the Germans responded to music and emotion. I saw in her eyes that she was not completely one or the other-- how she loved both cultures from her heart, longing for a place where both were loved, understood, and appreciated.

Hebrews 11 tells us of the fathers of faith and how they knew they were strangers and aliens on this earth. Their hope in eternity made their lives different. They made different choices, took huge steps of faith, and obeyed God against all logic because they had their eyes fixed on another country that they have yet to inherit. Living between two cultures makes one feel like something of a stranger in both. You love both, see the strengths and weaknesses of both, and know that you don't fully fit in either! Our prayer is that this helps us to live like our ancestors of the Hall of Faith-- that we keep our eyes on the heavenly citizenship that awaits us in heaven. For those of you who support us in prayer and offerings, we can't tell you how grateful we are to have your confidence and your heart as we sojourn here in Peru!

Surfing Adventure

Surfing is a big sport here in Lima. Therefore, in honor of Sarah's 24th birthday, we went on a surfing adventure. Here we are, doing what everyone does when you put on a wet suit, pretending to be super heroes.

The water was about 50 degrees and the waves were not so big that we were scared. Nonetheless, as beginners, it was still a challenge. Getting out beyond the waves is the hard part. If there was something like a ski lift, I'd vote it one of my favorite sports. As it is, it's still a great sport. The only problem is the amount of effort involved. That's what makes skiing such a great sport ... there's so little actual work involved.

Abi playing on the beach. Note the rocks. They're tough on your toes when you get out of the 50 degree water.

Cockroaches and Coffee

This bad boy is living in my coffee pot. We've been hit with a roach infestation. When we open the overhead kitchen cabinets, they fall out onto the counter, us and the food. The other day, I turned on the microwave that's above the stove. The microwaves began to cook two roaches that were hiding inside. They ran out and fell right onto a nice hot casserole of Spanish Rice. They're favorite spot to live is in our coffee pot. Apparently, they like coffee. They also love dark, damp places. Frequently I've poured water into the pot and chased out roaches from the water reservoir. All I can say is that I'm really glad for coffee filters.

What's in a name?

People here have difficulties with my name. Ironically, they prefer William over Bill. There are even Peruvian guys named Willy. But when it comes to Bill, they stumble. I mentioned this to a Peruvian friend and he said, "They don't want to say your name because it means despicable."

"What?"

"In Spanish, when you say Bill, it sounds like Vil, which means despicable or really bad. That's why people stumble. They can't figure out why a missionary would say, 'Hi, my name is despicable,' or 'Hi, I'm really bad.'"

I went home and looked it up. Here's what the dictionary says: From the dictionary:
Vil (adj) vile, despicable; el vil metal filthy lucre. It's obvious now that we can add to the list:
villan
evil
Devil -- which means from or of the vile, despicable.

People have asked me what my name means. Now I'm starting to understand why they're so interested. Ironically, one of the meanings of William is noble. As such, I'm thinking of changing my name to No-Vil.

Dr. McGee and a salvation story

Gary McGee is one of my favorite professors at the Assembly of God Theological Seminary. He's an expert on Pentecostal History and theology and is a truly inspiring person. Currently, Dr. McGee is fighting for his life, combating cancer. AGTS has set up a web site with information about Dr. McGee’s progress (http://www.agts.edu/mcgee.html). Here is an update that touched my heart:

Last Thursday evening Dr. McGee's condition was quite fragile. Family, AGTS leaders and pastors from the McGee's church, Evangel Temple, gathered in the ICU waiting room to pray. Pastor Charles Arsenault led in a prayer which was overheard by a man visiting his wife in the ICU. The next day this man approached Alice (Dr. McGee's wife) and her sister in that waiting room and said that when he heard Pastor Arsenault's prayer he was overcome with emotion. He relayed that he was one of 15 children and was the only one not serving the Lord. He had just retired from a job with the railroad and his wife was in the hospital fighting cancer. Alice's sister, noticing his brokenness, pressed him about his spiritual condition and after conversing for awhile led him to faith in Christ. He told her that his 93 year old mother had been praying that he would give his life over to Jesus for many years. She said he should call his mother immediately, which he did. The last few days have seen a marked change in this man. Although his wife is facing very serious health issues, the man is visibly changed; there is a glow on his face and a confidence in his countenance.

Lester's Giblets

Abi and I (Lena) were on our way back from our friend's apartment, having retrieved our turkey (which was too big for our freezer) which I had been calling, "Lester." I thought I was quite funny.

Abi started to ask me about Lester, asking if he belonged to someone. Having been down this pet vs. yummy food to eat road before, I easily handled this one. I told her that some animals are pets, and some don't belong to anyone, and we don't eat the pet kind. She seemed satisfied with that answer, and I congratulated myself on having been matter of fact about the whole thing.

When we got home, I went about getting Lester ready for the oven. I got him out of his nice plastic jacket, just like they have at home in the States. I always get a little bit of pre-turkey jitters, as cooking it involves things called "giblets," and the stakes are so high. I reached in to get the packet of "giblets." Success. There seemed to be quite a few things inside there. Maybe some "niblets," too? Now for the neck-- I saw a little bit of neck sticking out, pulled, and--OH MY. THE HEAD WAS ATTACHED!! Lester was a real turkey! With a head! And there it was! I let out a tortured yelp and dropped the Lester head. And his feet were in there, too! I had to leave for a while to gather my bearings. I left them all in the utility sink, and the little ones kept slinking in to take a look at the CSI: Turkey Edition. Sarah got disgusted with all the morbidity of them skulking around, and told them to stop, but too late. Will could barely down Lest-- I mean the turkey. Lesson of the day: never underestimate the power of a styrofoam tray (or plastic jacket in a turkey's case) in making you think that it never had a head. I know. It's a gem.

A side note: Bill was my hero and cut Lester's head off the neck so I could use the neck meat and the "giblets" to make my first real gravy. It rocked.

Speak to the mountain...

One of the things we do here is evaluate new projects. Pastors who have Christian schools ask for our assistance. In this case, the school has to build new classrooms on the first floor, because the government no longer allows primary grades to be on a second story. The problem with this school is that there's a huge rock in the way. In this picture, Phyllis Rose and Sarah Olejarz are pondering the rock. We're talking with the school about how to blast that thing and get the rubble out. After that, the real building project would begin. We prayed over it and claimed the passage that says that we will speak to the mountain and it will be moved!

Even though this school is in the middle of the desert, God has not left them without reminders of beauty.

The picture above is of the students. The picture below is of the building. It's a classic example of what school buildings look like here.

Arica & the Sea

The desert of southern Peru and northern Chile runs up against the Pacific ocean. In our trip to Arica, Chile, we got to see both the desert and the sea. Arica is a port town that has sea food, big boats and seals (the kind that bark and grunt). We visited a sea food market and had a great time. Above, you can see crabs, fish and hairy balls. Inside the hairy balls is a live crab. People cut the balls open and suck the juices out of the crab while it tries to escape one's mouth. I failed the courage test and was unwilling to try it.

One of the guys working this stand suggested that we get behind it and act like a family selling sea food. He offered to take our picture. Once he had my camera, he took off running. The guys working the other stands all said they had never seen him before and that I just gave my camera to a stranger. It was all a joke. They were all in cahoots and were a very funny bunch of fishermen.

Hannah's first kiss!

My good looking buddy! All the girls at Colton's grade school swoon when he walks down the hall.

Arica & the desert

The west coast of Peru is desert--a vast barren desert that lasts for thousands of miles. A few months back, we had to travel to Arica, Chile, in order to complete the kids' visa processing (i.e., the paperwork required to live in Peru). On the way to Chile, we traveled through the desert. In the movies, you see guys walking through the desert and surviving. I don't know how it could be possible. It is that barren. Nonetheless, when you're driving through it in a car or bus, you have the chance to take some fabulous photos. When we took this trip, the papers were showing photos of Mars. I kept thinking, "I've been there!"

Praise and Thanks

I want to say "THANK YOU!" to God and to all our friends how have been praying for us.

THANK YOU!

We have been through a serious and difficult test here. I feel like Nehemiah, repairing the walls of Jerusalem with a brick in one hand and a sword in the other. I'm grateful to everyone who has been praying for us. We feel your prayers and are so grateful for them! We are seeing breakthroughs. Our recent victories have been significant, but the issues are not complete. We have the tools to put out the fire and have begun to do so, but there are still flames. Therefore, please continue to pray with us for complete victory.

More peaceful pics

In order to continue thinking on things that are lovely (in accordance with Philipians chapter 4), here are more pictures we took in Arequipa. I took these shots at night, putting the camera on the ground in order not to shake too much. I love the effect, because the buildings look good, but the rest of the shot comes out blurry. The picture above is of the cathedral (pictured in my last blog entry during the day). The picture below is a smaller Catholic church near the Plaza de Armas. These pictures answer the question of what to do with a 400 year old church building. The answer: decorative flood lights.

The Church in Arequipa

I took this shot back in May. It's of the church in Arequipa. The town of Arequipa is lovely and also very Catholic. The church, pictured here, is known as the Vatican of the Americas. I love this shot because of the deep blue sky. In Lima, we rarely see the sky. As such, trips to the mountains are a treat.

Pleasant photos after a rough week

We've had a rough week. One of our schools is experiencing a spiritual attack and we're taking some of the shrapnel. We continue to ask for prayer. The weight of it all has left us drained. In an attempt to regain normality, I'm sharing a few photos from a recent trip over the Andes Mountains. We passed the peak of the highest railroad in the world. It was beautiful when the snow fell. We all cheered. Once over the peak, we descended down the other side of the mountain into the jungle. Soon we will regain the peace we felt on this short journey.

More pictures of this trip can be found on our photo site: http://picasaweb.google.com/BillandLenaPics/LaMerced?authkey=CfzH46C6vfw#

Pray for us

I'm not at liberty to explain fully what's happening in Peru, but it is enough to say the some serious prayer for the Shrader family would be a good thing right now.

Poor Little Rich Girl

One of the most confusing things about our life here is that we don’t have much company in our “class” group, financially speaking. To most of our church friends, we are rich beyond belief. That we can afford to pay rent for the home we have, where we have it, and eat out once in a while, and buy our food in a supermarket, is quite the wonder for them, and sometimes it creates a barrier. They don’t always look very relaxed in our home, and few think of returning the invitation to their more humble homes (for many of them, this consists of a small rented room). I think about wealthy friends we have back in the States, who never seem to be able to leave behind everyone else’s consciousness that they have money, and I understand them in a new way.

At the same time, we meet and interact daily with the upper class. Many of them have children in our school, and we are aware of the difference. Those who own a house or apartment, really own it—only recently has Peru started to develop a practice of giving home loans. At Peruvian birthday parties (for the little ones), the conversation is of trouble with the hired help, in which private school you were able to win a space for your 3-year-old, and international business travel. The moms are not combing the internet for low-cost recipes (low-fat, maybe), and dress to impress (this last one is more Latina than upper class—they just wear their best when going out, even when it is just for a little kid party).

In terms of shared life experience, it can be a little difficult to arrive at the easy sort of relationship that I have with friends back home—educated, but not above financial struggle, able to enjoy many little indulgences (a trip to Burger King once in a while, buying the good lunch meat, a nice little party for your child), but still aware of the need to be careful with resources, and completely relying on God to make a way for our kids to go to college. (Only four years away!!)

The other night, Bill and I were returning from a Bible study late at night, and our two guards (of the apartment building) were chatting. I frequently greet one of these friends in the evening with the traditional Peruvian cheek-to-cheek peck in the air, as he is a brother in the faith and a dear friend. The reason I don’t greet him this way during the day is that there is a work and cultural barrier between us during the day, in which that could be seen as breaking the class rules, and thus making everyone in the vicinity extremely uncomfortable, including my guard friend. This particular evening, Bill greeted both warmly, and I did likewise, with the peck in the air. The brother in the Lord was fine with that, but the other guard about fell over, and laughed very nervously. It was clear that that was NOT the norm.

Maybe part of our role here is to demonstrate to our friends in both classes that they are not as different from each other as they imagine—to be a sort of bridge. To place greater honor on our friends who know exactly what it means to live by faith, and at the same time, to be humble enough to share what we have openly with our prosperous friends (as well as the riches we have in Christ), even though it is less than what they are accustomed to.
To live this way confuses this poor little rich girl, but it seems to me a good fit. I understand what it is like to grow up watching the Lord provide daily bread (not everyone in the States is rich!), but was privileged to obtain a college education and buy (start paying for!?) a home in a good school district. And as long as the Lord is in it, I am content to live in this confusing world of rich, poor, and something in between.

Talking on the bus with Creta

Last night, I rode on an overnight bus trip from Lima to Ayacucho. I was seated next to Creta. (Her mother named her after Greta Garbo, but didn’t know how to spell it.) Creta told me that she was a devout Catholic and that her son wanted to be a Catholic missionary. It’s easy in this situation to think that either the person doesn’t need to hear the Gospel or that he or she would be unwilling. In terms of sharing my faith with her, it felt like a dead end. Then the Holy Spirit spoke to me, saying, “Ask her, How is your faith?” You would expect the question to be, “What is your faith?” Listening to the Holy Spirit, even when the question makes no sense, is a good idea. So I asked her, “How is your faith?”

She answered, “Well, I’m Catholic, of course.”

That didn't answer the question. I continued, “How is your relationship with Jesus Christ?”

She said, “Profound!”

Profound is a great answer, but it didn’t leave me feeling like we had actually connected. She went on to say, “I attend Mass and, as I told you before, my son wants to be a missionary.”

In terms of evangelism, this type of response is a smoke screen. People who are in love with the Lord, speak of their love and their gratitude for his free gift of salvation. Those with a strained relationship, speak of punching the clock and of the devotion of some other family member (like her son). Her answer did not convey a “profound” relationship with the Savior. As we continued talking, I found myself telling her the story of when Jesus appeared to me and spoke with me (which is too long to recount here). She said, “Thank you for saying that, because I have doubts about Christianity. I don’t feel the presence of God or anything when I go to church.” She continued, saying, “I don’t believe that God talks to people or that you can really know what the truth is.” This confirmed what I suspected. Her relationship with Jesus was something less than profound. I pressed through her smoke screen, asking if she had read the Bible.

She said, “Very little.”

I then began to explain that we know that Jesus is the Messiah because he fulfilled the prophecies that God told us beforehand; i.e., that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, that he would be a descendent of King David, that he would suffer and die, and that he would rise from the dead. Unfortunately, a lot of people don’t know that Jesus is the Messiah, because they have never read or heard of God’s promises and how He fulfilled them. I shared with her that the Bible is an authority that doesn’t change and is the record of the Apostles’ teachings. She was very interested. I shared with her the story of Lazarus and the rich man. In the story, the rich man is suffering in “hell, where he was in torment.” (Luke 16:23). Luke continues to quote Jesus, in 16:27-31, saying that the rich man begs Abraham to “send Lazarus to my father’s house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’

“Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’

“ ‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’

“He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”

This passage tells us that miracles are not the key to faith—the scriptures are. The scriptures have the power to change our hearts and open our ears to hear God’s voice. I shared Hebrews 4:12, which says that the word of God “discerns the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” I told her that there are many ways to hear God’s voice or feel His presence, but that none of them surpasses the power of God’s word. The conversation went very well. She was engaged, interested and challenged. Originally, I was put off by her smoke screen, but this experience confirms that it is a bad idea to believe that a person’s smoke screen is the final word in personal evangelism. Because of the Spirit's encouragement, I pressed through the smoke screen and she thanked me for it.

It was already midnight and most of the people on the bus were asleep. When the morning came, I was sick from weaving through the mountains. I couldn’t pursue our conversation, for fear of throwing up. When we got off the bus, I didn’t see her again.

I believe that Creta wants to believe in God and feel his presence, but she is full of doubts and has nothing to combat them with. She did not believe that she could understand the Bible, because she had been taught against it. Our goal as witnesses of Jesus is to speak the word of God to those who haven’t heard it and to encourage those who can to read it for themselves. The Apostle Paul says in Romans 10:17, that “faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ.” This is saying that when we speak the word of God, sharing the message of Jesus with people, the gift of faith is ignited in them. Creta needs the gift of faith.

Please pray for Creta, that the word of God will get inside of her and transform her heart and mind. Pray also for me, that I’ll have many more opportunities to share God’s word.