An Exciting Day

Upon my return from Bangladesh, I set three goals for my time in the United States: work to pay off debt, take Hindi language classes, and to win souls.  I've worked a total of 7 weeks doing temporary assignments since my return to the states so I have not paid off any debt.  I will begin Hindi lessons in January.  God is definitely answering the prayer request regarding soul winning!. Sharon repented and was baptized in Jesus' Name a few months ago.  Today, six of the Outreach young men were baptized in Jesus Name and one was filled with the Holy Ghost! It was an exciting day!  The credit does not belong to me alone. This has been a team effort by many members of our church.

Thanksgiving Thoughts

Today in America we celebrate Thanksgiving, a day we set aside to give thanks to God for His provision and blessing of the harvest of the preceding year.  It generally is very difficult for Americans – surrounded by affluence and prosperity – to comprehend the realities of daily life for the billion-plus people who constitute "the poorest of the poor."  What we often take for granted in America – fresh water 24 hours a day, abundant supply of food, unlimited electrical power – are considered "luxuries" in many other countries.

Here is a quote from economist, Robert Heilbroner, as published in his book, The Great Ascent: The Struggle for Economic Development in Our Time.  He is describing the “luxuries” the typical American family would have to surrender if they lived among the 1 BILLION hungry people in the Two-Thirds World:

“We begin by invading the house of our imaginary American family to strip it of its furniture. Everything goes: beds, chairs, tables, television sets, lamps. We will leave the family with a few old blankets, a kitchen table, a wooden chair. Along with the bureaus go the clothes. Each member of the family may keep in his wardrobe his oldest suit or dress, a shirt or blouse. We will permit a pair of shoes for the head of the family, but none for the wife or children.

“We move to the kitchen. The appliances have already been taken out, so we turn to the cupboards…the box of matches may stay, a small bag of flour, some sugar and salt. A few moldy potatoes, already in the garbage can, must be rescued, for they will provide much of tonight’s meal. We will leave a handful of onions and a dish of dried beans. All the rest we take away: the meat, the fresh vegetables, the canned goods, the crackers, the candy.

“Now we have stripped the house: the bathroom has been dismantled, the running water shut off, the electric wires taken out. Next we take away the house. The family can move to the tool shed…Communications must go next. No more newspapers, magazines, books – not that they are missed, since we must take away our family’s literacy as well. Instead, in our shantytown we will allow one radio…

“Now government services must go next. No more postmen, no more firemen. There is a school, but it is three miles away and consists of two classrooms…There are, of course, no hospitals or doctors nearby. The nearest clinic is ten miles away and is tended by a midwife. It can be reached by bicycle, provided the family has a bicycle, which is unlikely…

“Finally, money. We will allow our family a cash hoard of five dollars. This will prevent our breadwinner from experiencing the tragedy of an Iranian peasant who went blind because he could not raise the $3.94 which he mistakenly thought he needed to receive admission to a hospital where he could have been cured.”

Having spent time in two countries, India and Bangladesh, I have seen first-hand the day-to-day realities of these precious people.  Today, as we give thanks in America, let us remember those who are less fortunate.  Not in a prideful attitude, "I'm so thankful I don't live like that," but rather a humble attitude, "Let me share my wealth and be a blessing to them."  HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

Listening to His Voice

The early morning was peaceful and quiet as I sat in my chair with my Bible, unhurried to start the busy day that lay ahead of me. Sometimes I am a constant chatterbox in His Presence.  Other times my mind wanders aimlessly in the quietness.  Not today.  There was such a stillness as I simply sat there, enjoying His Presence so real and so near, even though not a sound was uttered.  Listening.  Waiting.

Something powerful happens when I listen to God rather than filling the air with my voice echoing my own wants and needs.  Sometimes He speaks to me.  Most of the time He does not.  At least, not right away. He will, however, speak to me throughout the day as my spirit is attuned to His Voice.

Today was a perfect example.  After my quiet time with Him, as I proceeded throughout the day's activities, I could feel His Presence in a special way, a closeness.  I was studying for a Bible study scheduled for later tonight when I heard Him.  He was speaking.

Don't start the study in the book of Genesis.  Go straight to the plan of salvation.  "Ok. Lord, I hear You.  But, will she comprehend it?  She's simple-minded as you know."  The plan of salvation does not necessarily require comprehension, but it does require obedience.  She has child-like faith in Me and she will obey.

(Note: Sharon, the lady I am referring to has some kind of physical and/or mental illness.  She has slurred speech and poor motor control.  Although she can read and write, we are not sure how much she comprehends.  She has a sweet disposition and loves everybody.  And we all love her!)

I must  admit, I was very nervous teaching the 3-step plan of salvation* to Sharon.  I wanted to make it simple without making her feel like a child.  Mary, another lady in the church, joined us in the study.  We read a few scriptures on repentance, the first step.  Then, I heard Him.  He was speaking.  Don't just teach on repentance.  Show her how to do it.  We prayed a short prayer asking God to forgive us of our sins. Next, we covered water baptism in Jesus' Name, the second step.  I told Sharon any time she wanted to be baptized to let us know.  I heard Him speaking again.  Ask her if she wants to be baptized tonight.  "Sharon, do you want to be baptized tonight?"  She replied "Yes, I do.  I want to go to heaven."  Wow!  Mary and I were pleasantly surprised.  Sharon responded with child-like faith, just like God had already said she would do.  Finally, we covered the third step, which is receiving the Holy Ghost with evidence of speaking in an unknown tongue (language).  We wrapped up the study and went to the prayer room.  (We have church-wide prayer on Monday nights.) After prayer, we all gathered around as Sharon was baptized in Jesus' Name.

When I listen to (and obey) His Voice, then His Will (not mine) is accomplished in the earth.

* The 3-step plan of salvation is found in Acts 2:38.  "Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost."  This is based upon the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ as stated in 1 Corinthians 15:1,3-4, "Moreover brethren, I declare to you the gospel which I preached unto you...For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures....And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures."  Repent = death, baptism = burial, receive Holy Ghost = resurrection. 

A Bangladesh Church Service - Part 2

This is a continuation of the previous blog post where the question was asked, "What were the church services like in Bangladesh?"  Here are some videos from the Nuthon Bazar (Dhaka) church.  Actually, it's some of the little slum children "playing" before the official church service began.  They LOVE to worship Jesus and do so at every opportunity!  (The videos are in the Bangla language).

A Bangladesh Church Service - Part 1

Many of you have asked, "What were the church services like in Bangladesh?"  Below are two short videos from the Mirpur (Dhaka) church, both conducted in the Bangla language.  The first video is the praise team singing a song entitled, "Probhu Bhalo Bashi."  The second video is a portion of preaching by Mirpur pastor Peter Biswas.  The Mirpur church is somewhat progressive in that it has a praise team, several musical instruments, microphones and an overhead screen.  Many churches only have one song leader and maybe one instrument, nothing more.

What Will You Give Up to Win a Soul?

"What will you give up to win a soul for God?"  These words are often spoken by Matt Maddix, a great soul winner and motivational speaker.  Many people have been inspired by his messages while others have been challenged and forever changed by this one question he poses to his listeners.

Matthew Miller, AIMer to Bangladesh, was only 15 years old when he heard Matt Maddix speak these words at a conference.  The message gripped his tender heart and he decided to give up meat to win a soul for God.  You have to understand something.  Matthew was a hunter and fisherman who lived in southern Louisiana.  He was a husky, teenage boy who loved meat.   This was a huge personal sacrifice on his part. The amazing thing?  He did it for three years.  The challenge changed the direction of his life.  Today, at 20 years old, he and his twin brother are incredible soul winners for God.

Matthew's humble testimony inspired me.  I have been pondering the question for myself, "What am I willing to give up to win a soul for God?"  I've decided to give up ice cream.  This includes frozen yogurt and gelato. No, it is not a prideful ultimatum to God saying, "Bless God, I am NOT going to eat any ice cream until YOU give me a soul!"  Rather, each time I resist ice cream, it will be a humble prayer to God, "I really want to win souls.  I am giving up ice cream as gentle reminder to stay focused on this endeavor.  Lord, I need Your wisdom and guidance."  I am looking forward to seeing what God will do as a result of this new challenge.

"...and he that winneth souls is wise."  Proverbs 11:30

What will YOU give up to win a soul for God?

Best of Bangladesh

I finally got around to sorting my pictures from Bangladesh.  I've taken two international trips and each time I used a different camera.  Either both cameras were sorry products or there was an operator error.  :-/   I am determined to invest in a quality camera (AND photography lessons) for the next trip.

I laughed, I cried, and I prayed as I sorted through the photos.  So many great memories.  I will NEVER forget these precious Bangladeshi people!  I hope you enjoy the slideshow.

Lead Me to The Cross

I don't know about you but I tend to pick out a song that best describes a situation or season in my life.  Or I will hear a song and decide I want it to become a reality.  Either way, it becomes a theme song for whatever God is doing in my life at that particular time.

In this case, the song was "Lead Me to the Cross" by Hillsong.  When I heard it for the first time in Bangladesh, I immediately claimed it as my personal prayer.  "Lord, lead me to You and Your Cross. There's too much of 'me' still in control.  Rid me of myself.  Remove anything and everything I hold dear. Let me count it all as loss in order to gain Your heart.  Lead me to the cross where Your love poured out.  I want to be more like You.  I want to love like You love."

The next thing I knew, I found myself in an intense battle struggling to forgive.  Not just one person or a single incident, but a lifetime of people and incidences.  I sat there in a state of complete shock, surrounded by the broken pieces of my life, too numb to move or speak.  When I finally got the strength and bravery to pick up the broken pieces and hand them over to God, He began to show me some powerful lessons regarding forgiveness.  I am still in the learning process, but I'd like to share with you some things I've uncovered so far.

The entire chapter of Matthew 18 in the Bible is about forgiveness.  In this chapter, Jesus tells a parable about a servant who owed the king a huge amount of debt.  Even though it was absolutely impossible for him to repay it, he asked the king for an extension of time so he could pay all.  The king was merciful, and instead of granting an extension, he completely forgave the debt.  This same servant went to another servant who owed him a small amount of debt and demanded payment.  When the king heard this, he placed the first servant's original debt upon him and put him in prison where he was tormented.  When Jesus saved us, he removed the debt of sin from our lives.  When we refuse to forgive another person, the original debt of sin is placed back upon us; we are imprisoned and tormented.

Do you have a situation where forgiveness seems impossible?  Perhaps you are thinking, "I cannot forgive this person for what they did.  The pain is too great and the wound is too deep."  I do not deny the hurt and the pain you may feel.  But, we all must ask ourselves, "Is my choice to forgive or not forgive based upon the magnitude of the offense?  Or is it based upon the magnitude of God's mercy?" When we forgive, we are extending God's mercy to that person.

This matter of forgiveness is the very heart of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  If we are to forgive others as God has forgiven us, we need to understand how He forgave us.  Too often we believe God has forgiven us purely out of His love and kindness.  It was not His LOVE alone, but His PAIN at Calvary's cross that forgave our sins. It was His LOVE that made Him choose the PAIN of Calvary.  Calvary was a choice. Forgiveness is a choice.  Calvary was hard.  Forgiveness is hard.  Calvary was costly.  Forgiveness is costly.  Is forgiveness impossible?  No, because Jesus' actions at Calvary is our example.  Forgiveness is the most Christlike act we can perform for another human being.  It demonstrates the love of God like no other act can do.

God not only desires forgiveness, He also wants reconciliation.  II Corinthians 5:18-20 says that God reconciled us to himself through Jesus Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.  Our main goal for our offenders should be their reconciliation, first and foremost with God and then, if  possible, with us.  How do we accomplish this?  By doing the unthinkable: blessing our offenders.  This is NOT something we can do in our own strength.  It requires God moving supernaturally through us.  Do we want to fully experience the freedom of forgiveness?  Ask God to show us the real need of our offenders.  Then ask God how He might want to use us to meet that need.  Pray God's blessing upon the offenders.  When we do this, we become instruments of His redemptive work - conduits of His mercy and grace - in the lives of those we bless.  Every opportunity we encounter to practice forgiveness is an opportunity to be part of something eternal.

When I claimed the song, "Lead Me to the Cross" as my personal prayer, I had no clue God was going to lead me to the cross through the painful path of forgiveness.  Oh, but I am so glad He did!  It has helped me to get rid of 'me' as I focused upon Jesus' example at Calvary.  It has given me an entire new appreciation for the agony and sacrifice it cost Jesus to die on the cross to forgive our sins.  It has given me a greater understanding of His Love towards ALL mankind.  How could I NOT forgive?

Sunset in Dhaka

The sun has set on my time in Dhaka, Bangladesh.  A sad day indeed.

My visa was expiring soon.  Two of the other AIMers here did not get their Tourist visas renewed.  They were told to apply again.  Another person (not of our organization) was denied a visa renewal and could not regain entry into Bangladesh.  I could take the risk of going to India to get the Tourist visa renewed but it would be a costly trip.  If the Bangladesh commission in India refused the renewal, I could get a 30 day Visa on Arrival at the Dhaka airport.  I had considered applying for a student visa which is good for one year.  However, it was very costly (over $1,000).  If I got the student visa, I would still need to raise the funds needed to stay longer in Bangladesh as my current budget was only good through August.

I wrestled with the decision for days.  It was a hard decision, but I decided not to renew my Tourist visa.  I decided to return to the United States instead.  There were hurried, tearful goodbyes as I prepared to take a quick flight out. 19-year old Liza hugged me and wept big drops of tears.  I held her and wept in return. She spoke the words so adequately, "Sister, you are taking a part of me with you.  A part of me will always be missing."  So true.  This country and her people captivated me with their genuine friendliness and servant-hood spirit.  A part of me will always remain in Bangladesh.

Sunset in Dhaka, Bangladesh

"Sister Moses"

Lately, I've been spending more time with Sis. Miller, one of the missionaries here in Bangladesh.  She has a very calm, generous and compassionate disposition.  She takes the time to speak to each person she interacts with whether it is the tailor, rickshaw driver, restaurant manager, or the beggar on the street.  I nicknamed her "Sister Moses" because it's like watching the red sea part when she walks into the room.  When the people see her, they smile, bow in respect, then clear off the furniture, making space for her to sit.

With my recent epiphany regarding beggars as real human beings, Sis. Miller's interactions with them amazes me.  She truly sees the beggars as real people as she tells me about them, "This elderly lady has the most beautiful face.  She must have been a wonderful child.  I wonder what caused her to become a beggar.  She deserves a much better life."  I watched her as she interacted with a young beggar mother holding a baby boy.  When Sis. Miller learned that the lady actually had twin boys, she excitedly shared with her that she too had twin boys, instantly bonding herself with the young beggar mother.

Sis. Miller gives generously to the beggars, whether it be food, water or money.  She knows many of them by name.  So, when I saw this picture on the internet, I immediately thought, "I could see Sis. Miller doing this."  Then I asked myself, "How many times have I walked by people, especially beggars, not caring about them at all?"  I justify my actions by telling myself, "You can't be nice to all the beggars.  You have to draw the line somewhere."  Where does one draw the line in demonstrating the love of God to souls?  There is no such line in the Kingdom of God.  Please pray for me that I will feel more compassion for souls as I walk the streets of Bangladesh.

Walking on Water

I learned to walk on water last week.  There were bricks to guide my way into the Nuton Bajar church which easily floods whenever there is a hard rain.  The water is mixed with sewer drainage, attracting mosquitoes.  It is a very unhealthy scenario, to say the least.  Seriously, this church needs to find a new location SOON as the monsoon rain season is almost here.  The flooding situation makes it very difficult for these precious, but poor, people to attend church.  However, nothing stops their worship once they arrive!  Please help us pray about this matter!

A rainy drive to church.

Some of the church kids walking on water.

Come on Sis. Cynthia! You can do it!

View of the church's flooded courtyard.

Church time!!

Dhonnobad Tomader!!

Thanks to all of you who helped raise $350 to send 10 young people to Bangladesh Youth Camp.  But, I have to give a special shout out to the Sunday School class of First Pentecostal Church of Amite City, Louisiana!  They raised $114 to send three young people to Bangladesh Youth Camp!  DHONNOBAD TOMADER!!  (That's "Thank you!!" in Bangla).
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Anna Bobo

Owen Bryant

Haydan Graham

Landon Graham

Kaitlyn Peters
Mason Little (not in picture)

Mareck Little (not in picture)

Jesus Knows His Name

Recently, I began walking the few blocks from my house to the church in the mornings to pray.  The church is located on the 3rd floor of the building and has a great view of the street below leading to the main road.  I love looking out the window and watching the people because it gives me so much inspiration as I pray for the city of Dhaka and her people.  Today was no exception.

There are several mosques located in the neighborhood and the sounds of the call to prayer is heard multiple times daily.  Beggars are situated near the mosques to beg alms.  This morning, however, there was a beggar located outside the church window.  He was an elderly man, lame in the feet, wearing a once-white loincloth around his waist, a little Muslim cap, and nothing else.  He sat on the ground and held out his hand to people as they passed by, begging alms in a somewhat loud voice. No one gave.  No one stopped.  No one acknowledged his presence.  Then, he did something I will never forget.  He turned his head to the wall behind him and cried real tears of hopelessness, his frail body shaking.  He bent down, grabbed a piece of his loincloth, wiped away his tears, then returned to begging the people passing by.  A few minutes later, he turned again to the wall, dug up a piece of grass from the ground and ate it.  It was heart-wrenching to watch him; he was so pitiful.  Shortly after that, he scooted away, out of my sight.

My heart was pierced as I watched him.  It was the first time I viewed a beggar as a real human being rather than a nuisance.  The tears fell as I wept with compassion for this precious soul.  What was his name?  Did he have family?  Where did he live?  Has he always been lame?  This man was a real human being with a soul that God cared about.  Just like you.  Just like me.

Every time I hear the song, "He Knows My Name" my mind is transported back to this scene where I stood looking out the window in Dhaka, Bangladesh watching a beggar man on the street below me. The emotions and tears of compassion flood me anew.

No. I do not know the beggar man's name or anything else about him.  One thing I do know.  Jesus knows his name.  Jesus knows every move he makes.  Jesus sees every tear the beggar man cries. Jesus feels his overwhelming pain.  When the beggar man can't see the light of day, Jesus is there. Jesus cares.  Jesus loves the beggar man.

The real question is, "How does a Heavenly God demonstrate His love and compassion to such souls on earth?"  Through people...through you...through me.  We don't demonstrate God's love by throwing some money at the beggar's feet as we walk hurriedly by.  We demonstrate God's love when we stop, look the person in the eye, smile and say, "Hello.  How are you?" and then genuinely wait for a response. We demonstrate God's love when we reach out and touch the beggar person.  When we touch another person in an act of compassion, it is like touching the face of God Himself.

How will YOU demonstrate the love of Jesus to someone today?

Photo courtesy of http://banani.sixoranges.net/

Apollo Hospital

Today I took an interesting trip to another area of Dhaka to visit Apollo Hospital.  Due to tiny ear canals, I have to routinely have wax removed from my ears to prevent hearing loss.  So, today I visited an Ear Nose Throat (ENT) specialist to have this procedure performed.  Apollo Hospital and Clinic was completely different from the hospital we visited a few weeks ago to see patients of the Savar building collapse.  It is only fair that  I mention the Apollo hospital as well.  Not everything in Dhaka is "third world country" classification. This hospital was modern and clean.  It was almost like being in America again.  However, there were some very distinct cultural differences.

The registration area was outdoors in an atrium-type area.  This was disconcerting and refreshing at the same time.  After registration, I made my way upstairs to the ENT office.  I found a seat in the small waiting area and immediately noticed a few things.  First, the exam rooms and the doctor's office were approximately two feet away in full view of the waiting area.  Bangladesh is a very open society with hardly any privacy.  This clinic was no exception.  Next, each patient had 5-6 family members accompanying them to their doctor visit.  I figured out very quickly that it is generally unacceptable for a woman to go alone to the doctor in Bangladesh.  I got a "stare down" from another female during my entire wait.  No amount of smiles from me worked with this woman.  Oh well.

The doctor himself was a man of few words, but all action.  He asked me one or two questions, made a quick examination of my ears, performed the wax removal procedure and quietly left the room.  I was then escorted to his office to discuss the result of my examination.  I found this rather interesting because in America both the procedure and the discussion are done in the exam room.  Yet, it felt more polite and professional to discuss my exam in the doctor's office.

There is no moral to this blog post.  Just random thoughts and observations about another aspect of Bangladesh culture.

Accounting and Amazing Youth

Hmmm.  I'm beginning to think a missionary should possess an accounting degree prior to entering the field.  First of all, the monthly statement from headquarters is written in an accounting format and requires basic accounting knowledge to understand it.  Next, there is the task of formulating a budget prior to going on the field and then implementing it after arrival.  Believe me, there are many unforeseen items one must add to the budget after arrival in another country.  Then, there is the challenge of currency exchange from US Dollars to Bangladesh Takas (and Rupees for the India trips).  The Bangladesh Takas in and of themselves are especially challenging.  With each new change of government, Takas are often printed in different colors, designs, and sometimes sizes.  One must thoroughly inspect the Taka before handing it over in a business transaction.

Another aspect of accounting is the never-ending job of fund raising.  A missionary must not only raise financial support for his or her own expenses, but he or she must also raise support for various projects which serve as outreach efforts to win lost souls.  As an AIMer, I have been tasked to help solicit support for several projects here in Bangladesh.  Today, I will mention one of those projects, the Bangladesh Youth Camp.

In a country where Christians represent less than 2% of the population, gatherings of this nature for youth

are crucial to their spiritual growth.  The youth of Bangladesh are amazing as they currently lead worship, teach Sunday School, translate services, perform community outreach and the list goes on.  Attending youth camp will provide them with teaching and encouragement that will equip them to lead Bangladesh on even greater levels.  They will also have fun mingling and bonding with other young people who share their passion for God.

The Bangladesh Youth Camp will be held June 19-21 in Dhaka.  We are preparing for 200 youth to attend this year, dependent upon the funds available.  It costs $35 to send one young person to camp, all expenses included.  I can hear some parents saying, "I wish I could send MY child to camp for $35!!"  (Youth camps in the United States can cost anywhere from $85 to $150).  I have been tasked to raise $350...that will send 10 amazing Bangladeshi young people to Youth Camp.

If you would like to contribute, please email me at cynthiamartin2011@gmail.com.

Thanks in advance for your AMAZING financial support of this worthy project!!

Visiting Savar Survivors

Today Bro. Abraham, Sis. Miller, Fran and I went to a local hospital to visit some of the Savar building collapse survivors.  When we walked into the main doors of the hospital, instead of a lobby area there was an open-air emergency room.  Not the most welcoming sight with blood, scalpels and screams.  Absolutely nothing was sanitary nor sterilized in this hospital.  Cats were roaming the hallways.  Later, as we were leaving the hospital, I saw a goat outside the front door.

Bubbly 16 year old girl

The women's ward was one large room with 40 beds and no privacy.  The first patient we visited was a beautiful 16 year old girl with a bubbly personality.  She had a broken leg and stitches in her head.  She was outgoing and talkative, giving no indication that she had just suffered a horrendous trauma.  It was more like she had a minor motorbike accident or something similar.  We chatted with her for a long while.  She allowed us to take pictures and begged us to come again to visit her.

Next, Fran and I were taken to an adult woman who had two grown children.  One of her sons and his family were there visiting with her.  She had suffered a broken leg, back pain and partial facial injuries.  Fran and I stood on opposite sides of her bed; we each took one of her hands and began softly praying with her.  The woman looked at Fran, then at me, nodded her head and spoke kindness with her eyes as she received the healing, comfort and peace that flowed through her body.  After the prayer, she did the most amazing thing ever.  She invited us into her "home" of the hospital bedside, asked us to sit in the two chairs for a chat, and offered us water to drink.  It is part of the Bangladeshi culture to always entertain visitors by serving them drinks and food. This precious woman continued her treasured tradition even in the midst of tragedy.

The patient that tugged at my heart the most was a young 19 year old girl who had broken both of her legs in several places.  What struck me was not her broken legs, but her broken mind.  She was still mentally traumatized after being pinned under concrete for two solid days before being rescued.  She barely responded to my touch to her hand and arm as she stared into space.  Finally, I could restrain myself no longer, I reached up and laid my hand on her head.  Stroking her hair, I broke out into a spontaneous prayer.  This brought a response from her as she turned her eyes upon me as I prayed.  Only Jesus can heal such trauma.

The needs of these suffering people are vast, far beyond our imagination.  The pain goes far beyond the physical.  What do you do when you are the sole breadwinner of your entire family and now you can no longer work due to paralysis?  What do you do when your parents are deceased and your two sisters' education (and hope for a better future) must be stopped because you, their only brother, can no longer work?  What do you do when you are the sole surviving family member of this terrible tragedy?

Please keep these precious Savar survivors in prayer.

Sis. Miller with one of the Savar survivors

We are Family

"We are family."  I've heard this phrase numerous times since living here.  It is how the Bangladeshi people describe their relationship to others, including me, a foreigner.  For someone who's lived her entire life desiring a family, it has special meaning to me, and I love being part of the Bangladeshi family.

It is this special bonding of relationships that makes the Savar tragedy even more tragic.  On Wednesday, April 24, 2013 a nine-story building collapsed in the town of Savar on the outskirts of Dhaka.  The building housed four garment factories, a major source of income in a nation where thousands of people live below poverty level.  Today, four days later, the death toll stands at 371 while 2,431 have been rescued...and the search for survivors continue as people still cry out for help beneath the cement rubble.

Oftentimes an entire family may work for the same garment factory, so you can only imagine the losses experienced, not only of people and family units, but of incomes and ways of life.  In a culture where everyone is embraced as family, the entire country is feeling this great tragedy very deeply and expressing their grief passionately.  Even though I did not know anyone personally involved in the Savar tragedy, I, too, mourn the loss of my "family members."

Please keep us in your prayers during this special time.

If you want to know more, I suggest two Dhaka news sources:

The Daily Star

Dhaka Tribune

Note: Photos copyright of CNN.com

What is Surrounding You?

This week I am staying in another area of Dhaka.  This afternoon I walked alone to a nearby park.  It was so peaceful and quiet with the trees and pond as the sun set in the evening sky.  Nature has such a calming effect on me.  Unfortunately, the only nature I can find in Mirpur, the area of Dhaka I live in, are the dirt streets.  It was truly relaxing as I sat there listening to the sounds of birds chirping and geese honking.  The park reminded me of home in America.  Not that I am homesick, because I am not, but because parks were one of those pleasures of life I enjoyed in America.

As I sat there enjoying the serenity of it all, some black birds began to land near me as I sat quietly on the park bench. It was an eerie feeling as they kept landing, one by one, surrounding me like I was a dead carcass.  I almost froze in fear from the entire experience.  I knew there was only one solution to the situation: movement.  As I stood up with my arms outstretched, the birds scattered back to the skies where they came from.

The strange experience caused me reflect upon my life lately.  Birds of doubt, fear, worry, self-pity and loneliness have been surrounding me threatening to eat up my carcass.  But, as I stand upon the Word of God, those birds have to scatter and flee from me.

What is surrounding you today?  Is it loneliness, fear, a wayward child, an unfaithful spouse, or a sick parent?  Whatever it is, put your faith and confidence in Jesus Christ.  You cannot just sit there hoping the situation will get better.  You have to stand up and put some movement to your faith by praying the Word of God regarding your situation.  When you do, those black birds will have to flee.

Prayer:
Father, I come to You today because my life is surrounded by black birds of prey whose goal is to eat up the peace and joy you have given me.  You said in Your Word that when the wicked, even my enemies and my foes come upon me to eat up my flesh, they will stumble and fall.  Father, as I stand upon the truth of Your Word today, I pray that You will arise and let Your enemies be scattered and let them that hate You flee.  I praise You and thank You for Your Presence and deliverance today.  Amen.

Two Inspiring Stories

God is doing great things in the lives of people, in this case children, in Bangladesh.  Here are two stories that I believe you will find inspiring.

Nuthon Bazar church: The little girl in the pink dress walked several blocks to and from church by herself for months, sometimes in the dark. Now, her mother and sister come with her.

Mirpur church: This little boy was mute (possibly deaf?) when the ministers laid hands on him about a month ago and prayed for him. Now he is talking up a storm! He also goes around laying hands on other people and praying for them. We believe that even at such a young age, he associates his healing with the laying on of hands.

Scenic Tours

Fran and I have taken quite a few scenic tours of Dhaka lately.  Not by choice, mind you.  The baby taxi and rickshaw drivers have taken us on strange routes the last few days.  Before I begin my rant, I must admit that for the most part, the drivers are nice  and competent.  Last Sunday night, we were traveling home to Mirpur from Banani by baby taxi.  The driver's first mistake was to take the Cantonment Road, a road restricted to foreigners.  We yelled, "No Cantonment Road! Na! Na!"  He paid us no attention.  That should have been our first sign of the trouble that lay ahead.  He got us to the Mirpur area after a wild bumpy ride which included hitting another baby taxi, but he refused to follow our directions and thus turned down an unknown street.  We were in our neighborhood but we were totally clueless to how to get home.
 We called Liza who spoke Bangla to him by phone, but it was useless.  He stopped and asked directions at a market.  We gave the market owner a church card.  He called Bro. Peter whose name and number was on the card.  After a quick conversation, the market owner gave the driver directions.  The driver got back in the taxi and we were relieved thinking we were on our way home.  But, no!  A few feet down the street, he stops and asks someone else for directions!  He refuses to listen to them and repeats this strange behavior all throughout the neighborhood.  If I could have reached through the wire barrier separating the front and back seats, I would have boxed his ears!  Soon afterwards, while Fran is on the phone with Liza again, I spotted a familiar store in our neighborhood.  I knew where we were!!  So, we started yelling, "Thamen!  Stop! Bame! Left!"  He stopped, turned around, hitting a rickshaw in the process, and took us home.

After our Bangla class in Banani yesterday, Fran and I got a rickshaw to go to someone's house which was nearby.  To get there, we always tell the driver, "Australian High Commission."  We were enjoying a nice new scenic ride on the rickshaw since the driver was apparently taking a different route, when he suddenly stops and demands that we get off.  We are at a cul-de-sac street in front of a Thai Coffee House, NOT the Australian High Commission.  We refused to get off since he had not taken us to the correct destination and repeatedly said,  "Australia High Commission!"  The man was not going anywhere!  We get off, but I refused to give him the pre-agreed 40 Taka.  I handed him 30 Taka instead.  He would not take it, so I placed it on his rickshaw and walked off.  Fran picks it up, adds the 10 Taka to it and hands him the entire 40 Taka.  I'm yelling, "What  are you doing?!  He did not take us to the agreed destination!"  She calmly said, "Let's go.  God will take care of him."  I immediately knew she was right and felt bad that I had acted in such a high-spirited manner.  So, we started walking.  After some confused turns and a few phone calls to Matthew, we made it to our friends' house.

Last night, we took a baby taxi from Gulshan-2 to Mirpur, traveling the forbidden Cantonment Road again.  We were almost home when the driver stops and motions for us to get out on the Main Road.  He refused to turn down the little neighborhood streets where we lived.  It was not a big deal because our house was not too terribly far, we were not lost, and we could have walked home, but it was late at night and Fran had a watermelon.  We needed a rickshaw, but we were low on money.  So, Fran hands the watermelon to me while she digs in her purse for some money.  I almost dropped it because it weighed as much as I did.  She rescued the watermelon and I said, "Fran!  Why did you buy a watermelon on the other side of town?!  There are plenty of markets near home."  She said, "Sis. Miller said this one is the best."   I said, "We will never know if we burst it on the sidewalk, huh?"  We laughed so hard over that watermelon!  We managed to scrape together a few Takas, hired a rickshaw and got the watermelon home.

Today, Fran and I rode the bus (a double decker one at that!) to and from Bangla class all by ourselves!  No Liza, no Matthew, nobody!  You know, the bus is rather comforting.  There's no yelling directions to the driver.  Even if we get on the wrong bus, if we stay on it long enough, it will eventually take us back home.

Life in Dhaka, Bangladesh is definitely a scenic tour, with or without  baby taxis, rickshaws or buses.

Kolkata - The Dying Home

Today, we visited Missionaries of Charity’s (Mother Teresa's organization) Dying Home.  It was not what I had expected at all.  I expected to see people lying on beds in their final stages of death.  Maybe like a mass hospice unit or something.  What I did not expect to see was people walking around, including young adults.  Some of the people looked far from death to me, at least in their bodies.  Yes, they were all skinny and somewhat frail looking, but many of them moved around somewhat swiftly.  The death I saw was not in their bodies, but in their emotions, their eyes, their minds, and their spirits.  They were all completely lifeless and hopeless.  They were empty dead people living in physical shells of bodies.

We walked through the men’s unit first.  It was dinner time; the volunteers and nuns were busy preparing the plates as the men lined up to get them.  When I walked into the women’s unit and saw the women dressed in white gowns with shaved heads squatting on the floor, it seemed like I had walked onto a scene of the 

Bollywood movie, “Water.”  The movie is set in 1938 and it explores the lives of Hindu widows at an ashram in Varanasi, India.  The movie features a seven-year-old girl, who loses her elderly husband, and in keeping with traditions of widowhood, she is dressed in a coarse white sari, her head shaven and she is deposited in an ashram for Hindu widows to spend the rest of her life in renunciation, cut off forever from her family and society.  The movie disturbed me for days afterwards upon watching it because the widows were so lifeless and without hope as they sat around waiting to die.  The movie moved me with compassion and deepened my burden for the country of India and the city of Varanasi.

The caretakers and volunteers at the home were apparently filled with compassion and love for these dying people. But, I asked myself, “What kind of love is being demonstrated if it does not produce life, hope and joy in a person’s life?”  For me personally, the love of God radically changed my life, giving me hope, joy and a future.  Today’s visit to the Dying Home was completely different than I had expected, yet the visit met another expectation:  I left that place with a greater burden and compassion for the lost souls of India.

Kolkata - Children's Home

We arrived in Kolkata, India last night.  This is my first time to visit the city.  Today, we went shopping at a Christian bookstore, which was nice since there are none of those in Bangladesh. I bought a Hindi Bible, something I’ve always wanted.  Most of the signs around Kolkata are in Hindi, Bangla and English.  I was surprised at how easily I could read some of the Hindi words.  Unfortunately, I need to learn the Bangla language, not Hindi.

We also visited Mother Teresa’s home.  Before I left the States, I had read many books about the life of Mother Teresa.  She was an amazing woman who gave all for the cause of Christ as she knew Him.  I am truly inspired by her sacrifice and compassion.  I am sad she wasted her life in Catholicism.  (Yes, I said that!)  One book I read told how she lost her mind at the end of her life because she had not heard the voice of God since she was very young when He told her to go to India.  It saddens me to know she cried out for a personal relationship with Him.  She so desperately wanted to hear His Voice.  Mother Teresa shared the LOVE of Jesus with many people, but the GOSPEL of Jesus Christ with none.  Lord, may I share the love AND the gospel of Jesus with others.

Quiet child in the middle.

We visited the Missionaries of Charity’s (Mother Teresa's organization) children’s home. They allowed us to take pictures of the children.  They were so precious, but so wild!  They are apparently accustomed to greeting people all day every day.  They were saying in Bangla, “Hello. How are you? What is your name?”  There was one little girl who did not act wild and crazy like the others.  She reached through the gate, quietly took my hand and looked at me with her deep brown eyes, not saying a word.  I knelt down to get eye level with her and we quietly locked eyes.  My heart was instantly captured!  I wanted to take her home with me!  I took her picture, but no camera can ever capture her quiet beautiful spirit.

Silly laughing child.

We walked to another area of the home when I noticed a young girl lying in a bed wearing a body cast from the waist down.  While Fran interacted with the children in the room, I stood by this girl’s bed.  Without hesitation, I reached out and laid my hand on her face and began to pray for her.  She laid there so quietly looking at me with her beautiful eyes soaking in the prayer as I prayed.  I asked her if I could take her picture and she nodded yes.  But, to my delight and surprise, she busted out laughing each time I took her picture.  She would be so calm between each shot but would laugh out loud during each picture.  Then, she wanted to take my picture, so I let her.  What a joyful time it has been with these precious children! 

Welcome to the War Zone

"They don’t teach this in School of Missions,” Sis. Corbin told me as she placed a book in my lap. I looked down at the title and saw that it was a book on spiritual warfare. My initial thought was, “I’ve been in Bangladesh a few days and you’re already talking to me about spiritual warfare?! What kind of war zone have I entered?!” On the other hand, I was very excited to have someone knowledgeable with whom I could discuss these things. Spiritual warfare is not an area that many people dare venture into in their walk with God. In fact, most people run far away from it. Looking back over my relationship with God, this is the area He has directed my steps. I am not a weeper in prayer. Yes, I weep and intercede for souls at times. Mainly, I pray warfare type prayers. Apparently He was preparing me for this point in time.

I’ve read some books on spiritual warfare and surprisingly, most are written by people who learned this stuff first-hand on the mission field. Many of the authors echoed Sis. Corbin’s words, “This was not taught in mission classes.” While in Kolkata, I purchased a few books on the subject. I have so much to learn about spiritual warfare; I haven’t even scratched the surface. I am glad God put me under the leadership of people who are knowledge and experienced in spiritual warfare.

As I sat there looking at the spiritual warfare book in my lap, I was reminded of my pastor back in America who told all the new converts, “Welcome to the War Zone!”

Resurrection Sunday in Bangladesh

A Full Church

It is Resurrection Sunday here in Bangladesh.  Notice, I said “Resurrection” and not “Easter.”  The former term brings thoughts of Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection while the latter brings to mind fuzzy bunnies, colored eggs and new clothes.  In a pre-dominantly Muslim country, we try to keep the Christian holidays as Biblical as possible.  It was very refreshing to me to celebrate Resurrection Sunday without all the American hype of holiday commercialism.  I went to church and actually remembered the message that was preached.  (Sis.Cylinda Nickel preached a message entitled, “When Empty is Full.”  Jesus emptied the tomb so that we could be filled with His Spirit.  When we empty ourselves, He fills us with Himself.)  I was not distracted by the fashion show of new clothes.  In fact, I don’t think there was one stitch of new clothing in the poor church building this morning.  It would have been useless since there were about 80 people packed into a tiny building that only holds 30 people in 100+ degree Fahrenheit weather with no air conditioning.  We were all drenched with sweat by the time it was over.

Afterwards, the ministry team had a nice time of fellowship at a restaurant (surprisingly, Dhaka has some good international restaurants).  Then, some of us went shopping while others went home to pack for their trip to Thailand.  I learned how to ride the bus during the shopping trip!   Whoo Hoo!  A few weeks back, Sis. Miller tried to teach me to ride the bus.  She told me, “Just look for the blue and white bus.”  When I spotted a blue and white bus, she told me, “No, not THAT blue and white bus.”  A few minutes later, I spotted another one and I got the same response.  So, needless to say, I did not learn to ride the bus that day with Sis. Miller.  Today, her daughter Katie taught me how to read the Bangla script on the front of the

Beautiful Liza riding the bus

bus.  I still don’t know what the script says, but I can now spot it on the correct blue and white bus.  Next, I need to learn the bus stops.  (Well, I don’t HAVE to learn the bus stops since people jump on and off moving buses all the time, but I am NOT that brave and fit.)  So far, I’ve been hopping on and off the bus whenever the leader of the pack says, “Let’s  Go!”  I definitely need to learn the bus stops.

The bus trip was apparently a God-arranged event.  On our way home, Fran and I ended up sitting together with a lady from Mirpur, the area where we live.  She was very interested in us and tried to communicate with us.  She knew Bangla and Hindi but very little English.  I tried to communicate with her in the little Hindi I had learned, but the only words that would come out of my mouth was Bangla.  I don’t know if this is a good sign or a bad one!

One thing was certain; God was drawing this lady to us and vice versa.  At one point, I felt to pray with her, but didn't know how she would receive it being a Hindu.  About that time the bus jostled and the two of us grabbed each other to keep from falling into the aisle.  We sat there for a few minutes with our arms around each other, enjoying the closeness.  I prayed for her under my breath asking God to bless her and order her steps.  We exchanged phone numbers.  She called us later in the day and made arrangements to visit us on Monday.  It will be good to see her again!

All in all, I say it has been a good Resurrection Sunday in Bangladesh!

Dealing with Scum

“When you go to the mission field, the first thing you will have to face is all the personal scum that will rise to the surface.”  I had heard this same advice from many missionaries prior to my coming to Bangladesh.  Sadly, it is true.  Since my arrival in Bangladesh, I’ve had to deal with some scum and it’s not been a pretty sight.

I stated from the beginning of this blog that it would be a transparent one.  There is no sense in misleading others into thinking the mission field is for super spiritual people.  It is not.  However, it is a place for people who are honest and transparent with God because that is what it will require to overcome the scum and move into the next spiritual dimension.  If a person does not have an honest relationship with God or a strong prayer life prior to the mission field, upon arrival, they will either develop one very quickly or die a sudden spiritual death.

“Before you can accomplish any great endeavor for God, you must first of all face and conquer fear.”  This great advice was given to me by Sis. Vani Marshall, a former missionary.  Fear is the enemy’s most-used tactic and it has been the primary scum I’ve had to deal with in Bangladesh.  I’ve discovered that fear wears many masks: failure, abandonment, lack of trust, self-pity, loneliness, just to name a few.  No matter which mask fear wears, its underlying motive is to distract the person from the purpose and destiny of God.  A person who is not transparent may try to ignore fear, hoping it will go away as they busy themselves in the work of God.  An honest person will acknowledge the fear to God and then lean heavily upon Him and His Word for the solution. 

I am thankful for honest, transparent leadership in Bangladesh that recognizes the scum process and advised me, “Every missionary will experience this when they first arrive.  Don’t skip the process, but allow God to purify you and cleanse you.  If you ignore it, it will eventually rear its ugly head again.  It's better to go through the process in the beginning before you get involved in the work of God.”  They were not afraid to confront the spirit of fear that was attempting to overtake me.  They spoke vision and authority into my life.  Even though the scum has not been pretty, I am thankful for the purification process.  It is necessary for us to empty ourselves before God can truly fill us with Himself.  The world needs to see Jesus, not the scum.

Missionaries: Idols or Heroes?

“Prior to arriving in Bangladesh, what were your expectations of missionaries and the mission field? How did it meet your expectations after your arrival?” Someone recently asked me this. It was an honest question that required an honest answer.

My expectations of missionaries were the same as the majority of people: I idolized them. I thought they were super spiritual people who eagerly followed the call of God to live in a foreign country. We erroneously believe because many souls are baptized in Jesus’ Name and filled with the Holy Ghost on the mission field that a missionary is living a super spiritual life. In reality, they are not super spiritual. They are actually living a normal Christian life, the one Jesus expects all of us to live. Baptizing people in Jesus’ Name and seeing them filled with the Holy Ghost is the norm, not the exception. Seeing the sick healed, the dead raised, the demonic delivered is the norm, not the exception.

Another erroneously belief about missionaries is their day-to-day life. Although it was not my belief, some people imagine that missionaries live in a mud hut in the wild jungles with no electricity or running water. There are a select few who live in these conditions, but the majority of the missionaries live in regular homes and/or apartments with electricity and running water. You would be surprised how much their lives are like the American lifestyle, yet different in so many ways. They may have a washing machine, but no dryer. They may have a stove, but no oven. Their bed may have a mosquito net over it.

When I visited the mission field of India for the first time two years ago, my expectations were dashed. In fact, I was almost disillusioned. One visit to the mission field and you will quickly discover that things are done differently in the foreign church than in America. Not everything we do as Christians is Biblically based; much of our administration is culturally based. (Please understand, I am NOT referring to doctrine, which is Biblically based, but to the day-to-day life of living for God). It took a while for me to sort out the differences.

However, I saw one thing on the mission field that stuck with me: the vast need for laborers. I also saw myself fulfilling that need. I could see myself being a Sunday School teacher, teaching Bible studies, mentoring young women, teaching in the Bible School, working in the office, raising funds, etc. You know there is a call of God upon your life when you not only see the need, but see yourself fulfilling that need.

Upon my arrival to Bangladesh, my expectations of missionaries and the mission field were much more realistic. I no longer idolized missionaries. I had a better understanding of their day-to-day life. As I listen to various stories, I realize the great sacrificial price that missionaries pay to fulfill the call of God to live in another country. I also hear the joy and gladness in fulfilling that calling. I love, respect and admire missionaries. They are no longer my idols, but they will always be my heroes of faith!

I'm an Overcomer

“I’m an overcomer, overcomer, overcomer.  I’m an overcomer in Bangladesh...”  I’ve been singing this Sunday School action song lately, with a few changed words, every time I overcome another hurdle of living life in Bangladesh.

 

First, there was the Asian toilet.  It was bound to happen sooner or later.  I managed to avoid the “squat” toilet the entire three weeks of my visit to India.  Two days after my arrival in Bangladesh, the dreaded moment had come.  Someone put it into perspective by saying, “It’s just like camping, Sis.”  With thoughts of camping, I did it!

The next hurdle was the cold shower.  This was the one thing I said I would never be able to do on the mission field.  I loved my luxurious hot showers back home in America.  But, I had to quickly adjust to the cold showers or remain dirty.  The trick is to take the shower in mid-afternoon when the water is the warmest and you are the hottest from the outside heat (it is 97 degrees these days).  I’m an overcomer!

I needed to purchase internet for my new apartment and no one was available to take me, so I decided it was time to attempt this on my own.  Sabrina and Jessica rode along with me on the rickshaw.  Prior to this, I was accustomed to someone else doing the haggling, giving directions, etc.  Sabrina does not haggle prices and Jessica had arrived in Bangladesh a few hours earlier, so she was clueless.  I meekly agreed to the rickshaw driver’s price of 100 Taka.  After we had ridden a few minutes, it dawned on me, “It costs 150 Taka to take a baby taxi to Mirpur all the way across the city and this rickshaw driver charged me 100 Taka to take me to Gulshan, which is close by?  Hey!  I got ripped off!”

After a beautiful scenic ride on the rickshaw, we arrived at the phone/internet store.  After an hour wait, I approached the customer service desk.  Thankfully, the clerk spoke English since I did not know Bangla.  I handed over my passport and the clerk in turn gave me a form to fill out.  Then, it hit me!  I don’t know my address or phone number!  At that moment, I felt like a lost five year old trying to explain to a policeman my information.  Luckily, I had my phone with me and a church card.  So, I wrote down the church address on the form and then handed the clerk my phone so she could retrieve the number from it.  Afterwards, I was so proud of myself!  I had just taken a rickshaw to another area of the city, purchased internet, and made it back to the guest house in time for church.  (By the way, I paid the correct rickshaw fare on the return trip!)

I was feeling independent and so happy.  The next day I moved to Mirpur and everything changed.  Let me explain.  Banani and Gulshan are the more affluent areas of the city with many international people living there.  Most of the signs are in English as well as Bangla.  It was simply easier to get around alone in these two areas.  Mirpur was almost like moving to a village yet still in the big city of Dhaka.  The streets were narrower and almost everything was in Bangla.  It was noisier and more crowded.  I could no longer walk to the Millers house down the street or ride Matthew’s motorbike to the Corbins house 5 minutes away.  Now, the Millers and the Corbins were an hour away by baby taxi….and I couldn’t speak Bangla to flag down a baby taxi, haggle the price or give directions to anyone’s house.  (Note: you can’t give taxi drivers an address and they take you there.  You must tell them the area of town, then give them step by step directions to the house.)

I was totally dependent upon others for my meals, water, shopping, transportation, EVERYTHING!  I hated it!  I had a near meltdown over this.  Sis. Corbin has a beautiful way of putting things into perspective.  She said, “Just think of it this way.  Your dependency upon others bonded you to them and vice versa.  You formed relationships with people that would have never been possible had you been independent.”  So true!  Now, I am truly thankful for those relationships and special bonds that were indeed formed from my need and their willingness to serve me.

Last week, I started taking Bangla lessons.  I bought a map and studied it.  Today, the Corbins invited me to their house for lunch.  Afterwards, they flagged down a baby taxi for me and I rode it home ALONE!  I had learned enough Bangla to be able to give the driver directions to my house.  Slowly, but surely, I’m an overcomer in Bangladesh!