The following is a dream that was recalled by a Central Asian man in his own words.

I was in the desert tied to a tree. There was a man with a long robe and turban on.  He had a long beard and his eyes were black, like holes.

He was yelling at me telling me I have to do evil and bad things.  I kept saying that I didn’t want to. This continued and I was very distraught. Then he pulled two snakes out of his robe and started threatening me with them.  I felt hopeless and scared.

Then off in the distance, I saw you, Edward*, walking with another man. When the evil man saw you two he ran away. I managed then to break free and ran towards you desperately.

You looked at me and said, ‘Ali*, this is my friend; he will help and you will not have to do evil again, his name is Yesua!”

I then looked at his face and I will never forget it.           

For the third time in the last five months, Ali has dreamed about Jesus. Ever since Ali shared this dream with us recently, we cannot stop thinking about our Father’s great love.

He cared so much about our friend that He clearly revealed Himself to them. Thank you for praying.

At the same time, Ali and his wife are going through painful times with their family.  They are seeing the love of their families fading as they look for meaning in Jesus.

Pray that Ali and his wife will soon see that Jesus alone is worthy of their worship and that He will never forsake them.  Pray that He will become the reason for hope in their lives.

Words from a brother whose intellect is eclipsed by his love and obedience to God…

Most of us have heard since we were small children that God is Triune – Father, Son, and Spirit – and that Jesus was both fully God and fully man. But when we stop to think about it, it is something we can’t really bend our minds around – what do those words really mean?

Our Muslim neighbors certainly don’t understand it, and even when they understand what it is supposed to be about, they still think we are both crazy and guilty of terrible blasphemy. No one can even be associated with God or be a partner with Him, much less be both God and man, or be the Son of God. And if God hadn’t told us so explicitly, I would have agreed with them. Without information from God Himself about Who He is, their understanding makes much more sense to finite minds.

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The streets of Van, Turkey had few cars on it. Walking in the middle of the road were shell-shocked men, women and children. They avoided the sidewalks fearing that a building would fall on them.

The city was cold and grey. The battered buildings tenuously stood with chunks of concrete torn away and windows broken out. Adding to the bleakness of the landscape were makeshift shelters and tents that dotted open spaces.

A sagging tent in the parking lot of the city’s cultural center would be my home for the few days I was in Van. I was a guest of my brother Hasan*.

The word “brother” has been cheapened with casual use. However, brother is the only word that describes Hasan. Not “bro,” or “brah,” he is my brother with whom I laugh, cry and usually learn something about faith.

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Zendeh (Living) Church will launch its first public worship service on Sunday, March 11. We have been blessed with a local Chinese church that is partnering with us to use their building. Pray for a great launch after meeting in homes for the last 5 months. Also pray for the new Iranian community centre that will open on March 6th as an outreach arm of the church. It will be called the “Life Community Centre” and “Kanoone Zendegi”.

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The question was one that I had asked myself many times.  However, like most people, I could effectively ignore myself.  I believe that denial is too often underrated.

Denial was not an option since the tripwire had been activated.  I swallowed hard and replied with an insincere and stale, “Of course.”  The double barreled question pointed at me was, “Don’t you love the people; don’t you just want to hug and kiss them?”

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The retired missionary had tears in his eyes when he said to me, “Just remember one thing, son—love your fellow missionaries.  They are your family.”

My much younger self thought, “Piece of cake; I love my siblings and parents.”  A year and a half after arriving on the field I realized that the old man meant the Manson family.  We are a quirky, stubborn lot and not always easy to live with.

A short time later, I strolled out to the jungle and fell to the ground with the weight of my conflict on me.  I cried out to God about how difficult my fellow missionaries were making my life.  I know, I was a drama queen and fairly stupid because there could have been snakes or warthogs out there (actual snakes, not my co-workers).

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