<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165</id><updated>2011-04-21T21:45:08.089-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Forecast Newsletter</title><subtitle type='html'>The Newsletter update of Sunshine After Rain Ministries</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>139</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-9189857393024467405</id><published>2007-03-30T12:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T07:15:51.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>VOLUME 14 - 2006/2007</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsf_u30t3I/AAAAAAAAAcY/-e5C4Z4nz70/s1600-h/COVER+-+wheat.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096702583074240370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsf_u30t3I/AAAAAAAAAcY/-e5C4Z4nz70/s320/COVER+-+wheat.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"&gt;Sidelines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;"Master, I know you have high standards and hate careless ways, that you demand the best and make no allowances for error. I was afraid I might disappoint you, so I found a good hiding place."&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Matt 25:24-25 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Entering into the eleventh year of ministry and mission, I can say with absolute certainty, the needs of the world will always outweigh the supply, there simply is not enough. No matter how many goods and services are brought in, no matter where, there will always be those sitting on the sidelines of the “supply” wondering “why is there not enough for me?” The more I see, sometimes I feel I understand more the teachings of Christ on &lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;“the poor you will always have with you.”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Matthew 26:11&lt;/span&gt; “&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;He saw the crowds and His heart was moved with compassion, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Mark 6:34&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grieve at the reality, and realize I understand less and less. The “why” of so much wealth, access, information, and opportunity poured out on some areas (and people) and for others: no clean water, no education, no love, no life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are all types of people on the sidelines: children who see gifts being handed out by the thousands, and yet they receive nothing; villagers watching while the children who are getting “educated” receive something while they and theirs do not; orphans across the globe who watch images of happiness and families; humanitarian relief reaching some but not all, people affected by wars and natural disasters current and past left with internal scars unseen. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And then there are our own sidelines: It is often said regarding mission work “some go, and some send”. But unfortunately there are many who sit on the sidelines doing neither. Watching, listening, sometimes hearing the plight and the problems and then… back to work on Monday, life and living while thousands of men, women and children around the world must wonder “why is there not enough for me”? We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, and while it is generally interpreted as a group cheering us on to the finish line of the race set before us, they are also witnesses against those who sit on the sidelines of “faith without works”, in a land of plenty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As partners with the work of &lt;strong&gt;Sunshine After Rain Ministries,&lt;/strong&gt; you aren’t on the sidelines. I “go”, but you “send” through your generosity and faithfulness. I hope you enjoy reading of YOUR adventures, YOUR race, YOUR work, YOUR ministry, and always YOUR mission, and how you answered His call. Friends, the harvest is ripe. In the last 14 months WE have reached over 50,000 people with the Good News. Get ready to send, this worker is set to GO!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-9189857393024467405?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/9189857393024467405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/9189857393024467405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/volume-14-2007.html' title='VOLUME 14 - 2006/2007'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsf_u30t3I/AAAAAAAAAcY/-e5C4Z4nz70/s72-c/COVER+-+wheat.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-8743756476368856253</id><published>2007-03-30T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T07:22:05.993-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GHANA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsiLu30t4I/AAAAAAAAAcg/3WWH3TkzBRg/s1600-h/PAGE+1+-+Flight+Plan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096704988255926146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 116px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px" height="170" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsiLu30t4I/AAAAAAAAAcg/3WWH3TkzBRg/s200/PAGE+1+-+Flight+Plan.jpg" width="123" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Flight Plan&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Over the past 14 months I have achieved a new “status” with Star Alliance airlines. The year took me more than 100,000 miles, and not “as the crow flies!” We have shared the Good News with over 50,000 people! However, this “status” does not cure boredom, assure or afford upgrades, or much of anything besides a pat on the back, an introduction when I board the aircraft, and the ability to sit in the lounge while I wait at airports around the globe. The night before I leave on any given mission, I try and watch a mundane movie to take my mind off the long hours of flying discomfort, knee strain and general complaints awaiting me the next day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;"&gt;2 Corinthians 5:20 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;“Flight Plan”&lt;/strong&gt; happened to be my movie of choice before beginning my February 2006 trip to Ghana. The story: a woman, a big plane, and a missing child. The crew proceeds to try and deal with her hysteria, her knowledge of the plane &lt;em&gt;(she helped design it)&lt;/em&gt; and of course the daughter no one else has seen. Is she crazy? Grieving over the death of her husband? Has she been taking drugs? Many of the celluloid passengers just stared and gave dirty looks at the inconvenience of having to stay strapped in while the plane was searched. They even applauded when she was put in handcuffs and led back to her seat. The tension mounts as she escapes - causes even more inconvenience and the big “reveal!” The FBI agent was plotting all along to extort $50 million dollars! Clever, yes, but he underestimated the women's passion to find her lost daughter. I am reminded of our Master's lesson and passion – the Shepherd leaves the 90 and 9 to find the one. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Jesus came to seek and save the lost. I know He has more passion than an Academy Award winning actress playing out grief and despair in a made-up movie. I know because He says He does, and I have seen His passion in a thousand faces across the globe. As well acted and dramatized as the scenes were &lt;em&gt;(a mother grieving for a lost child&lt;/em&gt;), the loss and sadness our Father feels is so much greater. So great is His desire to search for the lost and broken in the world - He shared His passion through “gifts” – calling saints to the Harvest Fields to labor and toil, to show His love and to tell of His sacrifice. We can be assured, the King will not stop until all who are called hear His voice and respond. I plan to keep going right to the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I may fly with “status” but I soar on the wings of your prayers! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#660000;"&gt;He will not grow tired or weary, and His understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; BUT those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Isaiah 40:28-31&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-8743756476368856253?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/8743756476368856253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/8743756476368856253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/ghana.html' title='GHANA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsiLu30t4I/AAAAAAAAAcg/3WWH3TkzBRg/s72-c/PAGE+1+-+Flight+Plan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-5161166899679405206</id><published>2007-03-30T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T08:00:55.884-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bringing in the Sheaves: Martha's Melody</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Missions are bonding. Working together for a common Kingdom purpose, provides a tangible example for the message of being “one” in the Body of Christ. During the first days in Ghana as we waited for the release of the &lt;strong&gt;Operation Christmas Child&lt;/strong&gt; shoe boxes, our team of six American women along with the in-country missionaries had plenty of time to share life stories, life times, and life’s tears. We coped with hours of frustration, days of delays, and time on our hands. We traveled to and from places hard to visualize, but found ourselves continuously amused and encouraged by the road signs which became our “SIGNS”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsjv-30t5I/AAAAAAAAAco/HYXYlFpV2iA/s1600-h/PAGE+2+-+Sign+Perseverance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096706710537811858" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsjv-30t5I/AAAAAAAAAco/HYXYlFpV2iA/s200/PAGE+2+-+Sign+Perseverance.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;To pass the time, we praised. Eight Baptists (past, present and recovering) in a car can come up with a lot of hymns! Martha, our resident wise one, even confessed to playing the piano for her church in a crunch. However, she was limited to those written in the Key of C (no sharps no flats). We got a good laugh on that one because there were only about three standards everyone remembered penned in the simple Key of C. As we belted out the classics: &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Old Rugged Cross, He Lives, Victory in Jesus, Onward Christian Soldiers&lt;/span&gt;, somewhere in the back of the van the comment came “can’t you sing something that’s at least from the 20th century!?” To which Martha replied, “but we were just about to get to &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Bringing in the Sheaves&lt;/span&gt;, that’s one I can play on the piano.” A huge roar of laughter erupted and when the chuckles died down, we started with the more modern “&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;This is the Day&lt;/span&gt;.” We grew quiet as the sights and sounds, smells and uniqueness that is Africa, closed in around us. The sign on the taxi ahead read “Perseverance – To God Be the Glory.” &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsj1u30t6I/AAAAAAAAAcw/MiYuXng1r0M/s1600-h/PAGE+2+-+Sunglasses+EDIT.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096706809322059682" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsj1u30t6I/AAAAAAAAAcw/MiYuXng1r0M/s200/PAGE+2+-+Sunglasses+EDIT.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our final day of distribution was to four of the orphanages I visited during 2004. The children had grown feet, not inches since that time and were eager to hear more stories, and see new “tricks”. Once the program ended and the gifts were handed out, we had time to enjoy the children. We watched them open their gift boxes. Their eyes lit up seeing familiar items like flashlights and of course candy! They proudly donned their new sunglasses, and posed with proud toothy grins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsj8O30t7I/AAAAAAAAAc4/8VlzUtaQGPs/s1600-h/PAGE+2+-+Dancers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096706920991209394" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsj8O30t7I/AAAAAAAAAc4/8VlzUtaQGPs/s200/PAGE+2+-+Dancers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At our last stop, the children asked if they could sing a song for us. “Of course” we answered and quickly took out our cameras and turned on the video. “This is the Gathering Song”, the leader said and with a one, and a two, and a three, they began: “Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness… we shall come rejoicing bringing in the sheaves…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it has been explained to these children about sowing and reaping for the Kingdom. They may actually know what “sheaves” are. But when they began the chorus, it was clear – God’s favor was upon us. And for Martha, through her tears of joy, hearing one of the only hymns she could play on the piano from orphans in Ghana, she saw a small portion of her very own sheaves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, we left rejoicing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-5161166899679405206?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5161166899679405206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5161166899679405206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/bringing-in-sheaves-marthas-melody.html' title='Bringing in the Sheaves: Martha&apos;s Melody'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsjv-30t5I/AAAAAAAAAco/HYXYlFpV2iA/s72-c/PAGE+2+-+Sign+Perseverance.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-5857299070033940719</id><published>2007-03-30T10:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T07:37:40.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SRI LANKA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;Out of Chaos ~ Creation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrslNu30t9I/AAAAAAAAAdI/OJbuTY8i7fk/s1600-h/PAGE+3+-+Creation.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096708321150547922" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrslNu30t9I/AAAAAAAAAdI/OJbuTY8i7fk/s200/PAGE+3+-+Creation.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;April took me back to Sri Lanka for the third time. Our programs consisted of stories, games, and crafts. The first time I heard Aaron Burke (of &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Gateway Outreach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;) describe his idea for the craft, (to cover notebooks with colored paper and glitter), I laughed and protested the mess. He assured me it would be “fine” (not exactly fine art) and fun for the kids, and I knew in the end it’s all about them. After six days of crayons, cut outs, glue, stickers and not enough scissors, the chaotic art developed its own beauty. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once crafts are over, we scan the scene, look at the huge mess of stickers unstuck, glue globbed, paper shreds and crushed crayons littering the floors of the churches and orphanages our programs are held at. We make our apologies of course, but are always met with a “don't worry, the children had a good time!” Aaron was right. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we returned to the &lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Agape Children's Home,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; it was a giggling reunion for some, but for the 17 new orphans, we were met with strange skepticism. However, once the program started their grimaces turned to grins. It was delightful to see them have fun, express joy, surprise, laughter and enthusiasm at – you guessed it - those darn crafts! Oh, they had a time alright, and as the darkness settled in outside, the Pastor ran and stole light bulbs from various other rooms in the orphanage to give illumination to their creation process.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrslTe30t-I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/xyeLJSUgTFU/s1600-h/PAGE+3+-+Girl+and+Notebook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096708419934795746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="280" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrslTe30t-I/AAAAAAAAAdQ/xyeLJSUgTFU/s320/PAGE+3+-+Girl+and+Notebook.jpg" width="165" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Once again, I looked down at the floor: EEGADS! Scraps, globs, gloop, gross! But when I looked up, the Faithful Father revealed something new. The children were all tightly holding their decorated notebooks as if they were masterpieces - beauty from the ashes of trash. I told them to look down and asked “what do you see?” It was hard to miss, and they offered a quick easy answer “a BIG MESS!” I went on to explain, “That's right, but in your hands you hold something beautiful. Now if someone walks in and looks at the floor, they would agree with you about the mess. They might not see what YOU created from out of the mess. Children, God is doing the same thing with you and me. Our circumstances may look like a mess, spilled tears, torn hearts and crushed spirits – but God is busy creating something out of what we only see as “ashes of trash.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He promises to hold you close. YOU are His masterpiece and great treasure.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6600cc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6600cc;"&gt;He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor …, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve … to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Isaiah 61:1-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-5857299070033940719?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5857299070033940719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5857299070033940719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/sri-lanka.html' title='SRI LANKA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrslNu30t9I/AAAAAAAAAdI/OJbuTY8i7fk/s72-c/PAGE+3+-+Creation.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-5936196405174539383</id><published>2007-03-30T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T07:42:56.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>His Pleasure</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsm8-30t_I/AAAAAAAAAdY/1w6nAPy3jLI/s1600-h/PAGE+4+-+Mother+Teresa+Home.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096710232410994674" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsm8-30t_I/AAAAAAAAAdY/1w6nAPy3jLI/s320/PAGE+4+-+Mother+Teresa+Home.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;“You shaped me first inside, then out; You formed me in my mother’s womb” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ps 139: 13 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;My encounters across the world with the disabled are quite similar, they have a culture all their own and spoken language is oftentimes a non-issue. I found it true with the children and adults living at the Mother Teresa home in Kandy, Sri Lanka. We were given approval for our visit, but with conditions: restricted photographs, no videos, and we must understand the children are in a severe state. Once inside the confines of the compound, we discovered a wide diversity of age and disability among the residents. They ranged from infants (abandoned for various reasons) to the aged (finding shelter and friendship), from severely impaired by disabilities to simply despairing from poverty. Some were reserved, some were frightened (by the over stimulation), but there were also affectionate enthusiasts. I pictured them all as my dear sweet Jesus. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsnNe30uAI/AAAAAAAAAdg/09ZZDrAInOw/s1600-h/PAGE+4+-+SRI+LANKA+face.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096710515878836226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="132" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsnNe30uAI/AAAAAAAAAdg/09ZZDrAInOw/s200/PAGE+4+-+SRI+LANKA+face.jpg" width="155" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A grinning girl jumped up from her seat when I walked through the gates - giggling, smiling, grabbing my hand, mumbling an enthusiastic greeting. But here is why I could so easily picture the hand of my Master reaching out to me through her: she walked me around the room and introduced me to her friends, when they were scared or pulled back she would reassure them I was okay. She would pat me or hug me and encourage them to do the same. Some were terribly disfigured; diseased hands outreached waiting and wanting to be touched. It was as if He was saying: &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6633ff;"&gt;“This one needs you, this one needs to feel accepted, and this one needs to be shown My love. Let Me introduce you to My friends, those I hold in the highest esteem!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsnTO30uBI/AAAAAAAAAdo/kfHvZ3MpJs8/s1600-h/PAGE+4+-+Field+of+Daisies.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096710614663084050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsnTO30uBI/AAAAAAAAAdo/kfHvZ3MpJs8/s200/PAGE+4+-+Field+of+Daisies.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You might assume they wouldn’t (&lt;em&gt;or couldn’t&lt;/em&gt;) or even shouldn’t be entertained by “tricks” and stories – oh, but there you would be mistaken. And as for assembling “volunteers” for the stories - they were eager to come forward and be a part of what was happening up front. They donned the silly hats and props like contestants in a Beauty Pageant, and in so many ways they were! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was His handiwork that formed them in the mother’s womb, deemed them acceptable, lovely and desirable just as they are. I told the story “The Legend of the Daisy” (God creating the flowers just for beauty’s sake). The Rose asks to be important -the Tulip wants to be admired but not used - the Violet too shy to come out of her forest of fear. And then there is the Daisy, enthusiastically asking to be scattered abundantly to bring joy and happiness into the lives of children. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, as those perhaps least beautiful by the world’s standards, laughed, smiled, and took delight in being “chosen” to participate and be “used”, my eyes didn't take in the brokenness or the tragedy - in fact before me I saw HIS field of Daisies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-5936196405174539383?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5936196405174539383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5936196405174539383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/his-pleasure.html' title='His Pleasure'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsm8-30t_I/AAAAAAAAAdY/1w6nAPy3jLI/s72-c/PAGE+4+-+Mother+Teresa+Home.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-4654906812831262182</id><published>2007-03-30T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T07:50:40.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BOSNIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrspCu30uDI/AAAAAAAAAd4/_SHB1azBrNc/s1600-h/PAGE+7+-+BOSNIA+-+Nato+bomb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096712530218498098" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px" height="208" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrspCu30uDI/AAAAAAAAAd4/_SHB1azBrNc/s200/PAGE+7+-+BOSNIA+-+Nato+bomb.jpg" width="291" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;I am Sarajevo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Former war zone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;experiencing recovery&lt;br /&gt;but in the deep struggle of a nation&lt;br /&gt;remains in my body, echoes like shrapnel&lt;br /&gt;“why do I do the things I do not want to do?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;The landscape is beautiful&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;if you squint&lt;br /&gt;if you look past the buildings&lt;br /&gt;filled with bullet holes and mortar blasts&lt;br /&gt;I am working on re-plastering those places&lt;br /&gt;so the evidence of the war I have been through&lt;br /&gt;is inoffensive&lt;br /&gt;after all – I know wounds worry people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;There are areas in the city of my psyche&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;completely repaired &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrspe-30uEI/AAAAAAAAAeA/1Q1Z9Sz5EyI/s1600-h/PAGE+7+-+SITES+-+ROAD+TO+SARAJEVO+Minefield+signe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096713015549802562" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrspe-30uEI/AAAAAAAAAeA/1Q1Z9Sz5EyI/s200/PAGE+7+-+SITES+-+ROAD+TO+SARAJEVO+Minefield+signe.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;people feel hope in that place&lt;br /&gt;but just when a passerby thought I was safe&lt;br /&gt;they encounter a sign - skull &amp;amp; cross bones&lt;br /&gt;“Beware of mines”&lt;br /&gt;While there haven’t been too many&lt;br /&gt;accidental explosions lately&lt;br /&gt;knowing they are there - and not&lt;br /&gt;knowing where they are&lt;br /&gt;is unsettling.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Even though many scars are re-plastered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and old war wounds healed&lt;br /&gt;the rest of the structure&lt;br /&gt;bore the blasts&lt;br /&gt;and deals with the unseen enemy&lt;br /&gt;who could any day rear its ugly hatred&lt;br /&gt;point a rifle of accusation - and shoot&lt;br /&gt;I have an enemy – who says I am not worthy&lt;br /&gt;of love or life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;I am Sarajevo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-4654906812831262182?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/4654906812831262182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/4654906812831262182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/bosnia.html' title='BOSNIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrspCu30uDI/AAAAAAAAAd4/_SHB1azBrNc/s72-c/PAGE+7+-+BOSNIA+-+Nato+bomb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-965673045037481791</id><published>2007-03-30T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T07:59:17.524-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From a Hillside in Herzegovina</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096713818708686930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="203" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsqNu30uFI/AAAAAAAAAeI/u954cQavU3o/s200/PAGE+5+-+Village+house.jpg" width="189" border="0" /&gt;I celebrated Mother's Day in the warmth of a Bosnian spring sun. Sometimes I find it hard to be away from family during holidays and crisis, but I praise God for the privilege and opportunity to share with His “family” and countless children around the world. After church, CARE EE and friends drove off for the Roma (gypsy) village, home to many of those in the worship service. We were driving into the mountains for an hour when we turned up the dirt road leading to the village. The young man with us, asked if I had seen such a “road” before. I had to laugh - I have seen MANY such roads that are hardly roads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The village makes money by collecting iron and steel, burning and cleaning it and then reselling it for cash. You cannot imagine the piles and piles of old cars, pipes, tires, broken refrigerators and machinery, anything that was once something - now waiting for the inferno to turn them into a cash commodity. It was hard to negotiate through the men young and old on the roadside, kindling fires of all sizes, and avoid killing the wide variety of chickens, goats, cows, dogs and cats that casually crossed our narrow path without fear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We arrived at the top of the hill, and at the end of the road stood a house (sort of). Like many structures in third world countries, half of it is finished, and the rest is waiting for funds or families or furniture. Of course our approaching vehicle caused quite the stir, stirring up more than dust as we got out of the car. Not so curiously, CARE EE caused a crowd immediately, and the children hurried to open the door and let the stranger out into their midst. What would I bring them, why was I there? Some spoke enough English to say “what is your name?” “My name is...” “How are you?” &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsqT-30uGI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/TjG5vu5sqBE/s1600-h/PAGE+5+-+CUPRICI+ROMA+VILLAGE+-+Group+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096713926082869346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsqT-30uGI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/TjG5vu5sqBE/s320/PAGE+5+-+CUPRICI+ROMA+VILLAGE+-+Group+3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When CARE EE answered - grins broke out across their faces, laughter erupted and happiness was widespread. Their grins were a mixture of broken, missing and decaying teeth. But they were grins none the less. Their clothes, were not much more than rags, only a few wore shoes, and they were often oversized, mismatched hand-me-downs barely staying on to protect their small feet. Their hair had most likely not been combed this week (or month), and as for baths, the dirt that covered them, covered them! And while this sad physical state exists among these gypsy children, they are still children. They are still laughing, smiling, and having fun playing the “King and Queen” in the stories I tell. And, through the work of two dedicated Finnish missionaries committed to living in this former war zone - they ALL know about Jesus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsq6e30uII/AAAAAAAAAeg/1A5aIxHpT_Q/s1600-h/PAGE+6+-+CUPRICI+ROMA+VILLAGE+-+Polaroids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096714587507832962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrsq6e30uII/AAAAAAAAAeg/1A5aIxHpT_Q/s200/PAGE+6+-+CUPRICI+ROMA+VILLAGE+-+Polaroids.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As I told the story of redemption high on the hill, overlooking an impoverished landscape more like a series of junkyards than a village for humans to reside - I asked questions to the wide-eyed crowd. “Do you know who the baby in the manger is?” “JESUS” they yelled back enthusiastically. “Do you know who calmed the sea in the boat?” “JESUS” they laughed wondering why I would ask questions with such an obvious answer. “Do you know why the cross points the way to heaven?” “Because He died for our sins!” they smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;“On a hill far away....”&lt;/span&gt; there is knowledge of the old rugged cross. There are children who know, who trust, who believe in the Name of Jesus. There are illiterate parents who learn of the Savior because their children come home from Bible lessons and tell of His love. There is hope in a place where hope is forged in the fires, because they know there really is only One hope that saves. It may not save them from poverty, it may not remove them from the pit of forged found-ironwork around them, it did not save them from being caught in a war, but it will save them in the end. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;Praise God for THIS indescribable gift!&lt;/span&gt; As Paul wrote to those back home in Jerusalem “brothers I want you to know what is going on in the field.” I write to you. I want you to know what YOU are a part of. Some through financial gifts, some through prayers, but all will share in the Harvest of souls in the joy shared and the love brought to this hill! We are ONE in the body of Christ.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-965673045037481791?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/965673045037481791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/965673045037481791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/from-hillside-in-herzegovina.html' title='From a Hillside in Herzegovina'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrsqNu30uFI/AAAAAAAAAeI/u954cQavU3o/s72-c/PAGE+5+-+Village+house.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-5111680271952163096</id><published>2007-03-30T10:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T11:36:39.868-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TEXAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Jesus Starts with a "J"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;His face always makes me smile.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtdkO30uJI/AAAAAAAAAeo/Eceid0JOkRc/s1600-h/PAGE+8+-+Jay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096770280348760210" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtdkO30uJI/AAAAAAAAAeo/Eceid0JOkRc/s320/PAGE+8+-+Jay.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And when I saw him arrive at the Joni and Friends Family Retreat camp - he was smiling back. “CARE EE, you’re here – it’s good to see you!” It took time for Jay to reach me with his labored steps affected by cerebral palsy. It did not however, affect the strength of his heart’s affection for his favorite clown! His convulsive arms embraced me wholeheartedly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Whenever I would walk through the dining room, the chapel, or pass from one building to the next – if Jay was around, he was around me. “Charlynn, I like Playdo, do you think you can find some for me? When’s CARE EE going to be around?” I would explain my schedule and various “characters” appearances, Jay would just be staring at me, hanging on every word, waiting for his opportunity to say, “You’re my friend.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I confess, when I was in a hurry (from performance to performance) Jay’s shout “Wait up CARE EE” would pause my steps with a sense of impatience. Jay’s mother would come to corral her son and try and to explain to him my rush. Jay would counter ALL explanations with his own answer, “But CARE EE is my friend.” We would hug, he would release his grip and say, “See you later friend.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On the day of the talent show, each encounter with Jay brought out a big smile. “CARE EE, you’re in for a big surprise tonight.” Without question, the Family Retreat talent show does hold huge surprises. It is a night families cherish and the kids can’t wait to show us their “stuff”. We have wheelchair jumping, poetry reading, pianos tickled, and voices of angels couldn’t sound any sweeter than those of our camp’s children. They proudly take the stage and praise the God they know loves them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was Jay’s turn at last. He kept looking over to the side of the stage where CARE EE was standing, distracted that I was not next to him. As he began to sing, he motioned me beside him. “CARE EE’s my friend” he told the audience as he put his arm around me to steady himself. I mostly looked right at Jay while he sang, but from the corners of my eyes I could see many in the audience crying openly. They couldn’t see the tears of a clown, running down her white cheeks – I’m not sure Jay did either – because nothing was going to stop his serenade to his friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Jesus, be my center, be my source, be my light… Jesus.” &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Jesus&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt; His name starts with a “J” – and this week at camp I saw in my friend Jay glimpses of Him: always quick to acknowledge I am in the room, ready to say hello, always wanting to stand right beside me and to tell everyone I am his “friend”. And when it came time to show off his talent – he wanted to do it with me right by his side. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;Somehow I know Jesus is doing the same!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-5111680271952163096?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5111680271952163096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5111680271952163096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/texas.html' title='TEXAS'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtdkO30uJI/AAAAAAAAAeo/Eceid0JOkRc/s72-c/PAGE+8+-+Jay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-450637002770859674</id><published>2007-03-30T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T11:47:37.364-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TANZANIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtf_-30uKI/AAAAAAAAAew/9e8rMybbqM8/s1600-h/PAGE+9+-+Sing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096772956113385634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtf_-30uKI/AAAAAAAAAew/9e8rMybbqM8/s400/PAGE+9+-+Sing.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;On a Hill Far Away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In August 2006 Sunshine After Rain Ministries led its first team on a trip to Tanzania, East &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtgJe30uLI/AAAAAAAAAe4/qP6j0K6mGtw/s1600-h/PAGE+9+-+Teatime.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096773119322142898" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtgJe30uLI/AAAAAAAAAe4/qP6j0K6mGtw/s200/PAGE+9+-+Teatime.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Africa. Six women set off to train, bless and learn from women living in remote villages. Ms. Sabina Lumwe (our leader during the 2004 Kenya women’s training) arranged a conference for ninety women to be held at the Vuga Bible School (built in 1912 by Germans for a mission post). It took days of flying, and treacherous bus riding to arrive at the compound set high in the Usambara Mountains. Our quarters were the Bishop’s guest house sitting at the bottom of the acreage where the Bible school is located. French doors opened to a stone porch filled with faithfully tended flowers and overlooking a spectacular view of the mountains and valleys surrounding us. We felt privileged. It was obvious God had protected this place on a hill and long used its sanctified ground as a place where His light had gone forth into a dark nation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtgTe30uMI/AAAAAAAAAfA/2fQyZ1xT8CU/s1600-h/PAGE+9+-+Face+15+-+BLOG.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096773291120834754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtgTe30uMI/AAAAAAAAAfA/2fQyZ1xT8CU/s200/PAGE+9+-+Face+15+-+BLOG.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#993399;"&gt;“Here's another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We're going public with this, as public as a city on a hill... Now that I’ve put you on a hilltop...” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mat 5:14-16 The Message &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day of the conference, we took our afternoon tea with different groups of laywomen. Sabina explained they were leaders of small bible studies, and some of churches or prayer groups. This would be our opportunity to get acquainted in an informal setting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtgZ-30uNI/AAAAAAAAAfI/PWD-HuDjr7k/s1600-h/PAGE+10+-++Doorway.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096773402789984466" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtgZ-30uNI/AAAAAAAAAfI/PWD-HuDjr7k/s320/PAGE+10+-++Doorway.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On our first day, eight women sat on the stone bench with the beauty of the backdrop and took tea and biscuits. We were able to ask them questions, and they were able to do likewise. We began by asking, “What is your day like?” It was hard to keep our mouths from dropping open as they said, “The day starts at 6:00 am, letting the animals out to pasture, gathering firewood, boiling water, preparing the meals, getting the children off to school. We finish at sundown to begin again when the sun rises.” They asked if we had children, husbands, etc… and we asked the same. The oldest in the group had 14 children (none born in a hospital) and again our mouths strained against dropping as they shared one by one a few facts about village life for a woman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The sun was setting and off in the distance, we began to see the roads fill with women who had left the conference. Sabina and those who had joined us for tea pointed to the farthest mountain. They shared the women were walking up that mountain, down the valley and even past the farthest hill in the distance. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The sight, miles away, of women walking up a hill to return home to tend animals, gather firewood, boil water, care for children and rise the next day to walk back 3 hours to hear what WE would have to say humbled us. We all prayed to have something worth their sacrifices made on the hill.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-450637002770859674?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/450637002770859674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/450637002770859674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/tanzania.html' title='TANZANIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtf_-30uKI/AAAAAAAAAew/9e8rMybbqM8/s72-c/PAGE+9+-+Sing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-5106917070224086957</id><published>2007-03-30T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T11:58:32.702-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Royal Crowned Cola</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;You are a royal priesthood, co-heirs with Christ." &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 Pet 2:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrthqO30uQI/AAAAAAAAAfg/LSNu7djVhfM/s1600-h/PAGE+10+-+CROWNS+-+Crowned+Beauties.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096774781474486530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrthqO30uQI/AAAAAAAAAfg/LSNu7djVhfM/s320/PAGE+10+-+CROWNS+-+Crowned+Beauties.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;After the closing ceremony concluded (with eighty-plus Queens adorned in their newly acquired crowns), we shared our last afternoon tea time. The sun was shining on our little spot of hillside and although simple plastic, the crowns glittered like gold! As the women made their way down to the courtyard in front of the Bible School they steadied their headpieces like newly crowned beauty queens. Faces shone with pride. Laughter filled the air and their abundant joy was contagious.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrthje30uPI/AAAAAAAAAfY/OSwDFdtMsKs/s1600-h/PAGE+10+-+CROWNS++-+Tea+Line+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096774665510369522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px" height="229" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrthje30uPI/AAAAAAAAAfY/OSwDFdtMsKs/s200/PAGE+10+-+CROWNS++-+Tea+Line+3.jpg" width="212" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What a sight they made as they gathered as a group for a parting photo. Once all the digital cameras had been passed forward and faces framed for posterity, the women lined up again to go through the ceremonial hand washing. They passed by the table set outside and selected their tea biscuits and today, for a special treat, a SODA.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The ritual of afternoon tea is one of those strange echoes of colonialism still practiced even in a remote village hillside. Stopping to “take tea” is an extended and expected form of hospitality. Tea the common, Coke the extravagant. As our team sat down and scanned the crowd of crowned black beauties seated on the small retaining wall, we chuckled under our breath, thinking it was too bad the drink offering wasn't R.C Cola (Royal Crown).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrthce30uOI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/-ylFv2FMhYM/s1600-h/PAGE+10+-+CROWNS++-+Tea+Line+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096774545251285218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 251px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 97px" height="99" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrthce30uOI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/-ylFv2FMhYM/s200/PAGE+10+-+CROWNS++-+Tea+Line+2.jpg" width="243" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As it was, we were quite content gazing at the harvest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;We “had a Coke and a smile.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096775979770362146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtiv-30uSI/AAAAAAAAAfw/DZhy7pMptqo/s400/PAGE+10+GROUP+-+Crowned+Beauties+4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-5106917070224086957?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5106917070224086957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5106917070224086957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/royal-crowned-cola.html' title='Royal Crowned Cola'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrthqO30uQI/AAAAAAAAAfg/LSNu7djVhfM/s72-c/PAGE+10+-+CROWNS+-+Crowned+Beauties.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-8368442720713037727</id><published>2007-03-30T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T12:05:33.787-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Consider the Birds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtkPu30uTI/AAAAAAAAAf4/GzagCpyjIeg/s1600-h/PAGE+11+-+Dance.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096777624742836530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtkPu30uTI/AAAAAAAAAf4/GzagCpyjIeg/s400/PAGE+11+-+Dance.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;Our tears mingled with the African sisters we came to know and love. It will be difficult for the angel stenographers in charge of counting tears to separate which one goes into which bottle! Ninety women have been fed and nurtured, they have grown in spirit and in truth, and we saw a small portion of the harvest as the attendees gathered an offering of rice and staples to take to the orphans of the Irente Center the day after the conference ended. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The return ride from the compound (Irente Center) housing the blind, disabled and baby orphanage brought another potentially terrifying drive – but I would break into a chorus with the three African women who had joined us for the day: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Hallelujah HAH, Hallelujah HAH, Hallelujah HAH…”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria, the oldest, kept at it for me to learn to carry the tune, while Margaret and Joness would giggle at my efforts to ward off my fears with praise. Then Maria broke into a song of her own making. Each verse she sang was regarding a member of the team or something about the conference. The other women would offer the responsive chorus: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“wonderful, wonderful, wonderful…”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, her singing stopped abruptly, interrupted by tears of joy, thanksgiving and sadness at our soon departure. Sabina, in the silence, took time to explain some of her refrains: &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;“Thank God for sending Charlynn to us we pray she comes again. Thank God for sending Debi to us. Thank God for His mercy and love toward us, may it never end.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have had the humbling privilege to travel (by bus) the long steep mountainous roads these women walk daily. We have experienced their servanthood through bucket after bucket of boiling hot water that has been carried down the 100 yard precarious path so six white women could bathe in hot water borne on the burden of the third-world each morning and evening. Our hunger has been satisfied by a cook and house girl who arrive before dawn to begin preparations in virtual darkness and stay well into the night cooking by candlelight, our hearty meal. We sit enjoying a leisurely dinner and conversation while they wait – so they can clear the table, and set the table for the next day come the following sunrise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Months before we arrived, Sabina described the women to us “birds” waiting to be fed the spiritual food of the Living God. At times I have felt like a beast – with tender feet, sore back and bones from traversing the cobblestone incline up to the church each day. We have consumed more water individually than they probably see in a month. And as for the toilet paper we have used – at each request for more rolls, a quizzical look would come across their face. I’m sure they could not imagine wasting so much of such a precious commodity as paper.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#339999;"&gt;“Even Solomon in all His glory was not clothed as these.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Matt 6:29&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtkX-30uUI/AAAAAAAAAgA/CDMx8Vp-D4Q/s1600-h/PAGE+11+-+GOODBYE+-+Women+Wave+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096777766476757314" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtkX-30uUI/AAAAAAAAAgA/CDMx8Vp-D4Q/s400/PAGE+11+-+GOODBYE+-+Women+Wave+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As we prepared to leave Vuga for the next stop on our journey back home, twenty or so of the conference Queens arrived to bid us farewell. They shook our hands, hugged us, blessed us and sang. Eager to send us off with songs of Thanksgiving and praise to the God we all served well over the course of our time together.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;And their faces were like that of angels.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-8368442720713037727?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/8368442720713037727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/8368442720713037727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/consider-birds.html' title='Consider the Birds'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtkPu30uTI/AAAAAAAAAf4/GzagCpyjIeg/s72-c/PAGE+11+-+Dance.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-3491491889988271724</id><published>2007-03-30T08:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T16:16:22.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Their Faces Were Like That of Angels</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrugDu30vDI/AAAAAAAAAmg/k-DD_p5KjnA/s1600-h/PAGE+12+-+STITCH+TOTAL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096843389282073650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrugDu30vDI/AAAAAAAAAmg/k-DD_p5KjnA/s400/PAGE+12+-+STITCH+TOTAL.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-3491491889988271724?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/3491491889988271724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/3491491889988271724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/and-their-faces-were-like-that-of.html' title='And Their Faces Were Like That of Angels'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrugDu30vDI/AAAAAAAAAmg/k-DD_p5KjnA/s72-c/PAGE+12+-+STITCH+TOTAL.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-3563392069201713209</id><published>2007-03-30T08:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T12:46:10.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CHINA</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Old Wisdom in a New Place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: … a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and time to dance…” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ecc 3:1-4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things change. Plans are interrupted. Successes are stolen by surprise, and our joy can turn to sorrow at a moments notice. This sentiment is not new, and as Solomon in his wisdom stated, “there is nothing new under the sun.” There is a very real and present danger surrounding us 24 hours a day. While this enemy may go unseen by most, he is not inactive or go un-credited when tragedy strikes unexpectedly. My scheduled fall trip to China was advanced a few weeks when I received a special invitation by the Chinese government requesting my presence at the 90th anniversary celebration of the Taian Children’s Home. You may recall I have visited this orphanage each year since 2001, and in 2005, the ministry donated 15 wheelchairs for their needs. It was a great honor and an “offer I couldn’t refuse”. Arrangements were made, visas applied for and off again to the other side of the world. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtueO30uiI/AAAAAAAAAhw/75NCZbAxUds/s1600-h/PAGE+13+-+CEREMONY.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096788868967217698" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtueO30uiI/AAAAAAAAAhw/75NCZbAxUds/s320/PAGE+13+-+CEREMONY.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My in-country connections coordinated the details, and our friend Brenda Adams (who was already there), would accompany me down to Taian for all the official ceremonies. We were treated with the highest honors, given a hotel suite, even grand dining with government officials. The officials made requests and promises for future ministry opportunities to additional orphanages. We had arrived into the realm of “trusted friend” in Chinese cultural terms. We gave an evening performance for the orphans after dinner, and the next day were seated on the stage with local and national officials in front of an audience of 500. The children of the Jinan Children’s Home for the Disabled performed as did the Taian orphans. It was a wonderful and touching performance. Brenda and I headed back late in the afternoon on Cloud Nine on the bus with the children from the Jinan Home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In just a few hours, the enemy would try to steal the joy, the success, and the victory we accomplished in the Kingdom realm. On our way home from dinner, as we made our way across the University campus to the hotel, Brenda was deliberately struck by a car. A nightmare of activities (ambulance, police, emergency rooms, diagnosis, and surgery) consumed ensuing hours and coming days. Our plans had definitely changed. But God’s presence and reassurance surrounded us. Brenda was hospitalized for almost three weeks and it was another few weeks before she could safely return home. After much prayer I flew on to Beijing, for my University performance and visit to the House of Hope Orphanage. There was nothing I could do personally that was not already being attended to by friends (American and Chinese). It was a season of sadness, but the season of joy would come only a few months later when Brenda RETURNED to China (bringing materials, gifts and humanitarian items) with her husband and family. She exhibited an irrefutable testimony of grace, forgiveness and the mercy and love of God towards the people in China. His truth goes marching on!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-3563392069201713209?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/3563392069201713209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/3563392069201713209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/china.html' title='CHINA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtueO30uiI/AAAAAAAAAhw/75NCZbAxUds/s72-c/PAGE+13+-+CEREMONY.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-5121288323287127729</id><published>2007-03-30T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T12:50:51.281-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Even Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtvNe30ujI/AAAAAAAAAh4/uUQXKTwb_BY/s1600-h/PAGE+14+-+BEIJING+ORPHANAGE+-+CARE+EE+and+Pumpkin+BLOG.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096789680716036658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtvNe30ujI/AAAAAAAAAh4/uUQXKTwb_BY/s320/PAGE+14+-+BEIJING+ORPHANAGE+-+CARE+EE+and+Pumpkin+BLOG.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6666cc;"&gt;“… not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. "I tell you, whoever acknowledges Me before men, the Son of Man will also acknowledge him before the angels of God.”&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Luke 12:6:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I confess, in my weak spiritual moments I use humor to deflect and get me beyond my anxiety or nerves. And as I enter an orphanage or other performance venue, I send up an arrow prayer like the cupbearer to the King (&lt;em&gt;see Nehemiah&lt;/em&gt;) “&lt;span style="color:#9999ff;"&gt;Lord you got me into this You'd better show up.”&lt;/span&gt; He does faithfully and it's interesting to watch how HE behaves. Sometimes I will see His glance come across the face of a knowing child. At other times it will be through the arms wrapped around me in a welcome embrace. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He must have sensed I needed something special to erase the memory and trauma of the accident. The sinking feeling I had of Him as my “&lt;em&gt;Protector Father&lt;/em&gt;” abandoning me in my time of need. His response and attention came at me like a steam roller in the body of a three-year old giggling girl. Her mouth deformed by a cleft palate, did not stop her from laughing and grinning a wide crooked smile. While the other children were friendly and excited they could not match her abundance of energy. She was a non-stop motion of flaying arms and legs - using CARE EE's body as a jungle gym and gymnastic springboard. She laughed - jumped - laughed - hugged - laughed - touched the sparkles on my noise - laughed and ran around the back to play hide and seek with her red-headed friend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I received His love through her. I took her enthusiasm as His encouragement &lt;span style="color:#6666cc;"&gt;“I am glad you are here. I L-O-V-E YOU, this much. Have fun with me. Have some fun for me, show these abandoned and broken the delight, touch and love of their creator God. Go for it!”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtvUe30ukI/AAAAAAAAAiA/X4DV8vXjhtE/s1600-h/PAGE+14+-+BEIJING+ORPHANAGE+-+Goodbye+BLOG.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096789800975120962" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 291px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 231px" height="249" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtvUe30ukI/AAAAAAAAAiA/X4DV8vXjhtE/s320/PAGE+14+-+BEIJING+ORPHANAGE+-+Goodbye+BLOG.jpg" width="306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the performance started my little bundle of love sat right in front where she could get a full view of me and me of her. She kept me focused with smiles and giggles. At the end of the program I lay down on the floor and got “dog-piled” by the rambunctious two and three year olds. Right across from me on the mat was my friend. We exchanged knowing glances and though He didn't audibly speak - in her eyes I saw His heart - &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#6666cc;"&gt;"Well done my good and faithful servant - enter into the joy of your Master."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- then she broke out in giggles as we both got up to say goodbye, until the next time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-5121288323287127729?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5121288323287127729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/5121288323287127729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/even-now.html' title='Even Now'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtvNe30ujI/AAAAAAAAAh4/uUQXKTwb_BY/s72-c/PAGE+14+-+BEIJING+ORPHANAGE+-+CARE+EE+and+Pumpkin+BLOG.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-2362594249343292800</id><published>2007-03-30T08:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T12:59:07.312-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INDIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;Life is Urgent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;“Jesus said to another, Follow Me! He said “certainly, but first … I have to make arrangements for my father’s funeral.” Jesus refused. “First things first. Your business is life, not death. And life is urgent: announce God’s Kingdom!” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Luke 9:61 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I planned to return to Sri Lanka in the fall of 2006, and yet the Lord had other plans, close but…. Aaron Burke of &lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;Gateway Outreach&lt;/span&gt;, notified me the situation in Sri Lanka was growing more dangerous for foreigners because of increased civil unrest. The day I left in April, there was an attack in Colombo near the hotel where we took our last lunch. Aaron’s enthusiasm to continue to “go forth to the ends of the earth” is contagious, and he said “Char, I have a contact in India where we can do an outreach. Let’s go there.” I was ready, willing and able – and off to the next great harvest field on earth. There are over 1 billion people living in India, less than 2% of them are professing Christians – sounds like an opportunity to me! &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096790831767272018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtwQe30ulI/AAAAAAAAAiI/0ji8Cd1xcMs/s400/PAGE+15+-+TEAM.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Three Americans and 15 local missionaries (&lt;em&gt;not all are pictured above&lt;/em&gt;) worked together for 10 days. We sponsored a pastor training seminar, held a program for the orphans at the COM &lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(Christian Outreach Missions)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; children’s home, conducted believer’s meetings in the evening to strengthen the local body, and organized two children’s festivals with over 1,000 children attending. We also had an opportunity to work in rural villages ministering to over 3,000 children and adults. It was a phenomenal experience! I saw so many new things about the God we serve. I gained a deeper compassion and commitment to the work He has commissioned me to do. And I realized, there are so many people in the world who have NEVER heard the Name of Jesus. I am eager to get “on about my Father’s business.” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You can imagine there are many good stories from such a harvest. I will only share a few that made the greatest impression on me during my first journey into the land of saffron and silk. The village outreaches, especially ones in gypsy areas of the countryside were amazing adventures into a world seldom seen by foreigners. One of the first things you notice in a gypsy village are the clothes worn by the people. The children’s attire is predominately the same – school uniforms and shorts with un-tucked well-worn shirts, but the women wear beautiful multi-layered silks of bright colors banded in gold and silver trim, and when strangers or men approach they are quick to pull a scarf over their head. Most wear elaborate beaded nose rings for adornment and jeweled bangles on their wrists. The women always sit on the peripheral of the crowd of children – occasionally, when the gospel began to be preached they gathered the cloth beauty that covered their outside and left empty inside. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtwnu30umI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/3N4ZnfhkK0I/s1600-h/PAGE+16+-+Balloon+boy+EDIT.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096791231199230562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtwnu30umI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/3N4ZnfhkK0I/s320/PAGE+16+-+Balloon+boy+EDIT.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;To break the proverbial ice, we hand out balloons when we arrive but then as we prepare to leave the children clamor to have one more “pooka” even though they are hiding them in their hands or pockets. At one stop, after the program Pastor P asked us follow him to the house of the one believer (out of 700 people) in the village. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtwwO30unI/AAAAAAAAAiY/PA6sf51rMxU/s1600-h/PAGE+16+-+Believers+House.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096791377228118642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtwwO30unI/AAAAAAAAAiY/PA6sf51rMxU/s320/PAGE+16+-+Believers+House.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stepped inside the one room house, and noticed a picture of Jesus hanging proudly on the wall in the 8x8 space. The Pastor asked Aaron to bless the couple and their house. They knelt on the mat in front of him and he placed his hands on their humbly bowed heads, and prayed for blessing and boldness to speak the truth into their community. I looked around the small room. The garments they owned were hanging on a clothesline strung from one corner to the other. There was an old drink crate suspended on the wall whose small compartments held the entirety of their worldly possessions. Their hospitality humbled us as they passed around a plate of cookies and glasses of tea, and as soon as the plate was depleted, the husband ran out and purchased another sack of cookies. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to cry in humility. These people were honoring God, and giving to us out of thanks for bringing the Gospel to their village – to help “them” tell the Good News. It made us bold and courageous to “go” to the ends of the earth – privileged to see what awaits us. We loaded the car and set off for the next village “in the dark” literally and spiritually. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, we parked at the outskirts of the village and started our praise and prayer walk down the dark streets. The smell of fire permeates the air. Women crouch around small flames in the streets cooking the night’s meal. Children run freely up and down the lanes along with a menagerie of animals. We are the curiosity in this place – and they wonder not just “who” we are but “what” we are. In this particular village the best place for our presentation was directly across from the Hindu temple. We presented the Gospel, sang praise songs and watched the children watching us, and seeing Him. At the close of our program, the Pastor led the people in an altar call of acceptance and salvation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc6600;"&gt;“Come follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Matt 4:10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think today Jesus would also say “&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;I will make you fishers in villages in India, among gypsies and outcast, orphans in all parts of the world, learned University students in China, tribal women suffering in Africa, the war wounded in Bosnia, and disaster victims in Sri Lanka."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He is calling to those who are listening. The conversations in heaven are always concerned for the lost and hurting of this world. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc6600;"&gt;“ and then I heard the voice of the Master: “Whom shall I send? Who will go for us?” I spoke up, “I’ll go. Send me!” Isaiah 6:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-2362594249343292800?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/2362594249343292800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/2362594249343292800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/08/india.html' title='INDIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtwQe30ulI/AAAAAAAAAiI/0ji8Cd1xcMs/s72-c/PAGE+15+-+TEAM.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-2397231039556417392</id><published>2007-03-30T08:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T16:00:18.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can You See Me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096793047970396802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtyRe30uoI/AAAAAAAAAig/xDUjv0y1Ops/s400/PAGE+17+-+Child+beggar+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When Isaiah spoke to the Lord and said “Here am I. Send me”, the Lord replied, “Go and tell the people, “Be ever hearing, but never understanding; be ever seeing, but never perceiving”. Both Jesus and Paul quoted the verse during their ministry. They spoke truth to their generation and those following warning against the refusal to “hear” and to “see”. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtyX-30upI/AAAAAAAAAio/-HbiEmkJ6IA/s1600-h/PAGE+17+-+Child+beggar+3+edit.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096793159639546514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtyX-30upI/AAAAAAAAAio/-HbiEmkJ6IA/s320/PAGE+17+-+Child+beggar+3+edit.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#009900;"&gt;But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear. For I tell you the truth, many prophets and righteous men longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Matt 13:16-17&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I travel the globe following the call, I am exposed to a great deal of the poverty and plight of individuals living and struggling to survive in the Third World. I see and hear their experience. It takes an emotional toll. I had been fearful of traveling to India, having read books and seen movies such as City of Joy; hearing of children maimed by adults, to command higher sympathy while begging for money in the streets of Bombay and Calcutta. I thought it would be too much for this already sensitized heart. But when I heard the voice of the Lord calling me to India – I didn’t hesitate. I fully trust Him with the outcome of each and every journey; even those leading into what I fear may be the Valley of the Shadow of Death. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtygu30uqI/AAAAAAAAAiw/V19NUBi_nBI/s1600-h/PAGE+18+-+traffic+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096793309963401890" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtygu30uqI/AAAAAAAAAiw/V19NUBi_nBI/s200/PAGE+18+-+traffic+2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I knew He would be with me in India.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#009900;"&gt;“Perfect love casts out fear” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 John 4:18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart, my eyes, my ears were filled with love for the country, when I left the country. I felt a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment at the harvest. I returned to Bombay to catch my flight home to the states satiated by the experience, but sadness was also packed in my bags. I arrived in the dark, and I would be leaving in the dark. The Pastor arranged for his brother to meet me at the airport and escort me to the international terminal. Once we were in our makeshift cab – the traffic swallowed us. The night closed in around us and the horns were relentless in their constant blaring, warning, signaling for squeezed through passageways. I never cease to be amazed how inches separate life, limb and certain death – but somehow with the aid of beeps and brakes people make their way crossing oncoming traffic, wrong directional, no directional and just plain chaos without being crippled. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;“&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear?” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Psalm 27:4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We came to a large bridge and stopped at the light just near the underpass. Immediately, we were surrounded by beggars - children holding infants knocking on the window, making gestures of hand to mouth and then pushing the babies forward to further elicit sympathy. In the darkness you could see hundreds of children walking from car to car – negotiating their way through the pile up. Trying to determine which one would likely offer something for their effort and risk. One small girl – seeing a light person in a cab decided patience would pay off. She kept knocking on my window, making noises, calling out “Auntie, Auntie”. She held her face up to the glass – peering inside through cupped hands. Looking, waiting and working the system she has been brought up in. I could not make myself look at her. I could not “see” her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtym-30urI/AAAAAAAAAi4/FYmzcT8ZF34/s1600-h/PAGE+18+-+woman+and+baby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096793417337584306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrtym-30urI/AAAAAAAAAi4/FYmzcT8ZF34/s320/PAGE+18+-+woman+and+baby.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a great deal I did see under that bridge - hundreds of children and dogs, foraging through the garbage, and the fires, built for warmth, or light or food – perhaps. I always take my cue from the nationals and ask about the appropriate response to beggars on the streets. Often it feels heartless and gutless. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day on the streets of Hubli a child approached the Pastor with an outstretched hand. I watched to see his response. He said a few words and turned her away. I questioned his reaction wanting to know how foreigners, but not just foreigners but Christ followers should act. He explained as long as they can make money begging they have no desire to better themselves. And when they receive response from well-meaning foreigners it makes the process and the pursuing that much greater the next time – a reward for bad behavior is how he put it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And there’s the rub as they say. “Don’t give a man a fish, teach him to fish”. I always ask &lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;–“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, what about THIS?” Where are You?”&lt;/span&gt; I often hear His gentle answer to my anxiety “&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;You’re here aren’t you – it means I’m here too.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Christ told His followers, &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“The poor you will always have with you.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I understand more and more there was NOT enough money in the world then – there is not enough money in the world NOW to solve the problems: children abandoned to the streets, simple medical care not available, lack of clean water and sanitation killing hundreds of thousands each year. He was telling them – AND me – AND you - there is only one solution to the problem “ME”.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#009900;"&gt;“All His ways are just. A faithful God who does no wrong…” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Deut 32:4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Christ explained service, &lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Whatever you have done to the least of these you have done so unto Me”. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;He explained religion “pure and undefiled” is to look after widows and orphans. He explained prayer, “&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;If you being evil know how to give good gifts, how much more will your Father in Heaven give good gifts to those who ask! Pray without ceasing.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; He explained what we are to do “&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33cc00;"&gt;Go make disciples of all nations unto the ends of the earth, preach the Gospel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In the dark night with a faceless child peering through the window of a dilapidated taxi – I felt her gaze and question “&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;can you see me&lt;/span&gt;?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I prayed to understand. I prayed to see Him for HER answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#009900;"&gt;“Young women will dance and be happy, young men and old men will join in. I’ll convert their weeping into laughter, lavishing comfort, invading their grief with joy.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jeremiah 31:13 The Message&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096838420004912162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrubie30vCI/AAAAAAAAAlw/kzWesZ9CTOI/s400/PAGE+19+-+All+Stitched.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-2397231039556417392?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/2397231039556417392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/2397231039556417392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/can-you-see-me.html' title='Can You See Me?'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RrtyRe30uoI/AAAAAAAAAig/xDUjv0y1Ops/s72-c/PAGE+17+-+Child+beggar+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-9032245666645914433</id><published>2007-03-30T08:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T13:16:28.815-07:00</updated><title type='text'>RUSSIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt1i-30uuI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/oFwk3LAlnW4/s1600-h/PAGE+21+-+Face+-+EDIT.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096796647152990946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt1i-30uuI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/oFwk3LAlnW4/s400/PAGE+21+-+Face+-+EDIT.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;Visit &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twenty-one servants ushered in the New Year in Voronezh, Russia. Working with &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;East West International &lt;/span&gt;has taken me to the former Communist country 14 times; this would be my seventh trip to Voronezh. The thought of Russia in winter isn’t a warm one, but the mission to bring Christmas to the orphans who had no family to spend the holidays with certainly did warm our hearts, and brace us for the cold weather. Most of the American’s on our team were new to mission and orphanage ministry. It brought its own dynamic. There are a lot of “nerves” to work through, as well as the basic chaos of how to smoothly transition in the program from one “station” to the next, what to do with the children during down time, and lots of other little kinks that typically work themselves out in one way or another. The children we were seeing in Semiluki were “true” orphans. We would be their “family” for the holiday, there to provide them with comfort and hope for their future. It was a task not without its critics. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One team member’s interpreter wondered if we weren’t just giving the children a “false” hope. Happiness for one day, only to leave them longing and hoping for more. It was, and is, a valid question. Do these “visits” produce more pain than the short-term, short-lived pleasure and presents are worth? The veteran team members and leaders expressed the “purpose” of our time with the children. A time to illustrate “God has a plan”: a plan to prosper and not to harm, a plan to give them a future and a hope. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus was not an economist, a psychologist, a politician or a lawyer. He came as a human who entered in to the suffering of humanity. He did not address the economic plight of the people by making them all millionaires. He did not analyze their problems and issues and offer a “ten steps to happiness” program. His nation and people were in bondage to a foreign land, and yet He was no diplomat negotiating for their freedom or moral justice. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt1Ou30utI/AAAAAAAAAjI/k5jASWAhp88/s1600-h/PAGE+20+-+Wave1+-+EDIT.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096796299260639954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt1Ou30utI/AAAAAAAAAjI/k5jASWAhp88/s320/PAGE+20+-+Wave1+-+EDIT.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What He did do, was to walk, talk, eat, sleep and teach among the people. He touched and His touch healed. He taught, and His lessons changed hearts, lives and eventually, the world. He “dwelt” among them. He didn’t strategize, He simplified. He isn’t asking any more of us today with the children. Our in-country leader reminded us the “operative” phrase in the well-known, oft-quoted verse: “&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;pure religion undefiled is this, to VISIT the widow and orphan “IN” their distress”. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The verse does not say fix their circumstance, share the gospel, bring money, rescue or adopt them – it merely says VISIT. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;VISIT&lt;/strong&gt;: to go to and stay with (a person or family) or at (a place) for a short time for reasons of sociability, politeness, business, curiosity, etc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While it is said 90% of mission work is “showing up”, perhaps the other 10% is to keep in mind the “strategy” is in the simplicity of the &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;VISIT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-9032245666645914433?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/9032245666645914433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/9032245666645914433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/russia.html' title='RUSSIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt1i-30uuI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/oFwk3LAlnW4/s72-c/PAGE+21+-+Face+-+EDIT.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-1366919518092824331</id><published>2007-03-30T08:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T13:36:15.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>INDIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#663366;"&gt;Inheritance&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth..."&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Matt 5:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My future inheritance has nothing to do with an impending death in the family. It has to do with a death that occurred almost two thousand years ago; guaranteeing my future and adoption for eternity. Life sure would be easier (at least by the world’s standards) if I already had my treasures, a big bank account and lacking nothing materially. Alas, God’s economical perspective is not mine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I “go” and return, and “go” – I try and remind myself, in His accounting of things, we are an international investors. But as He reminds us, where our heart is, our treasure is also. My heart is with the orphans of the world, with the disenfranchised, the displaced and the disabled. There is much to be romanticized about the “adventure”, distant lands and iconic landmarks most never see in a lifetime. But the “theory” of the adventurous journey carries the weight and responsibility of communicating the Good News and telling “God’s Story” to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096801143983749938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt5ou30uzI/AAAAAAAAAj4/fOvmcjZC5Ow/s400/Page+23+-+Sites+Stitched.jpg" border="0" /&gt;I have seen the Red Square and the Kremlin, but also thousands of Russian orphans hidden in remote and rural institutions constructed by an ideology void of God and, since its collapse, holding no future. I have walked atop the Great Wall in China and entered the once Forbidden City, but I have also seen hundreds of girls abandoned to a life of hopelessness, because in a society with a one child policy, male children are seen as the only future aging parents will have provision. As for those born with a disability, most are virtually discarded and devalued for life. I saw the snows of Kilimanjaro, but also the street children who forage among trash heaps for food. I feel my responsibility is to share the beauty IN the ashes, as well as bringing the hope and truth of the God I love and serve, Who gives beauty FOR ashes. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt5uu30u0I/AAAAAAAAAkA/O_UvVhvsVEA/s1600-h/PAGE+23+-+Meenakshi+Temple+Madurai.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096801247062965058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt5uu30u0I/AAAAAAAAAkA/O_UvVhvsVEA/s320/PAGE+23+-+Meenakshi+Temple+Madurai.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;The Director of Orphan ministry of &lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;East West International&lt;/span&gt; and I left Russia and traveled on to India. Our teammates were on their way back to the USA, to comfort, family and familiar food. As for us, fighting the good fight of faith as “career officers”, we carry on, to the upward high calling. During the trip, we will analyze the “battlefield”, develop “fighting strategies”, and determine how many “battalions” of willing “soldiers” we will need to enlist to conquer the land! India is a nation with over 300 million gods, the “war” seems hopeless. In the coming days, we will take our cue from a wise Israeli King (Jehoshaphat) who went before His Lord and said, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#663366;"&gt;“The army is too vast for us to conquer …but our are eyes are fixed on You.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;2 Chron 20:12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-1366919518092824331?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/1366919518092824331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/1366919518092824331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/india.html' title='INDIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt5ou30uzI/AAAAAAAAAj4/fOvmcjZC5Ow/s72-c/Page+23+-+Sites+Stitched.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-2478621798495150246</id><published>2007-03-30T08:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T15:44:48.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Homeless</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt23O30uwI/AAAAAAAAAjg/4rV_uaLgfB0/s1600-h/PAGE+21+-+Polaroid+Girl+EDIT.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096798094556969730" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="289" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt23O30uwI/AAAAAAAAAjg/4rV_uaLgfB0/s320/PAGE+21+-+Polaroid+Girl+EDIT.JPG" width="215" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;“but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Matt 8:20&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Our work, set apart before any of our days came into being, was completed. Ornaments and bookmarks were decorated, and Polaroids would serve as a reminder (even if only temporary) of our visit. We loaded up the “stuff”, gave last minute hugs, and headed through the mud and slush towards the bus that would take us back to Voronezh and eventually, for most of the team “home”. We left at the children’s lunch time, which gave them a destination they needed to rush off to, as well as sparing us a long tearful goodbye. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt2_-30uxI/AAAAAAAAAjo/Wz5sNDQndVw/s1600-h/PAGE+21-+Window.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096798244880825106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt2_-30uxI/AAAAAAAAAjo/Wz5sNDQndVw/s400/PAGE+21-+Window.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I looked up at the windows of the building and saw one lone teenage girl as she stood watching our departure. From her third story window she had a good view of twenty Americans, along with their twenty interpreters, walk away. I waved frantically from the bus, to catch her eye and acknowledge her perspective. She waved back and kept watching the trail of people filing past her perch, unaware of her pain, and passing under her tears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When everyone had finally filtered on to the bus, our leader began commending the team for a job well done, persevered with grace, and “gold stars” all around. One of our youngest team members said, “so what does that get us?” to which our leader replied, “You get to go home.” Applause broke out – but my heart broke with it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Jesus speaks in the eighth chapter of Matthew, on the cost of being His follower. By this time in His ministry, He was gaining in popularity and many were seeking out His companionship for further learning opportunities and perhaps to see the “show” that surrounded Him. One eager young man asked to become a follower. Jesus’ welcome to him was met with a response, “but first let me go and make funeral arrangements.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Jesus then remarked on his own “homelessness”, perhaps in an effort to illustrate being tied to nothing and no one. Once, when told His family (mother and brothers) were outside, He said, “these are my mothers and brothers”, making His family with those in His presence, instead of those who shared His family history. I believe there is a lesson there, for us who “go”. We are uncomfortable, inconvenienced and exhausted by all things unusual: the food, the toilets, the beds, the buses, the weather, as well as the cultural and language barriers that seem daunting at times. But in the back of our minds at the end of any given day spent on foreign soil, we harbor and nurture the thought “we are going home soon.” The image of the girl watching us leave to go “home: stayed with me. And as the “yeahs and yahoos” were shouted over our departure – I wept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt3Ge30uyI/AAAAAAAAAjw/48eTytq7zCY/s1600-h/PAGE+21+-+Bus+door.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096798356549974818" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt3Ge30uyI/AAAAAAAAAjw/48eTytq7zCY/s200/PAGE+21+-+Bus+door.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A single girl, peering out an orphanage window wiping away tears, represented the hundreds of thousands – “homeless”. No mother’s embrace at night, making warm meals, or giving hugs. No father’s instructions to sons, protection for daughters, or provision for family.&lt;br /&gt;Our identification with Christ, must tie us to the circumstantial “homeless” and relieve our own “away from home-ness.” His identification with who family is, must bind us to make us family to those whose presence we find ourselves in. While we are away from home and family, we must learn ways to better “BE family” and “create home” for those we serve. Perhaps then, when we walk towards our own “home” we will not walk away from those we leave behind, peering out the windows and wiping away their tears.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6666;"&gt;“HE WILL wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain for the old order of things has passed away.” &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Rev 21:4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096834902426696722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruYVu30vBI/AAAAAAAAAlo/kGee6nsTQMo/s400/PAGE+22+-+Stich+Russia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-2478621798495150246?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/2478621798495150246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/2478621798495150246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/homeless.html' title='Homeless'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt23O30uwI/AAAAAAAAAjg/4rV_uaLgfB0/s72-c/PAGE+21+-+Polaroid+Girl+EDIT.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-9028201846595968966</id><published>2007-03-30T07:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T13:42:22.727-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saved</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt7lO30u3I/AAAAAAAAAkY/WULXcEH-lrE/s1600-h/PAGE+24+-+BABY+Rachel+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096803282877463410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt7lO30u3I/AAAAAAAAAkY/WULXcEH-lrE/s320/PAGE+24+-+BABY+Rachel+3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ccff;"&gt;“Give thanks to the LORD, for He is good; His love endures forever. Let the redeemed of the LORD say this… “ &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Psalm 107:1-2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;One destination for research and development on behalf of East West International was to Madurai in the southern portion of the country. We met with Sony and Soso Prince of &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;Redeeming India&lt;/span&gt; and visited the baby orphanage located high in the mountains above Kodaikanal at the end of a one-lane dirt road. Stairs and makeshift bridges covering streams of mountain water led us to the “saved” infants in their hilltop sanctuary. The building was a two-story structure with multiple rooms and a kitchen. In the first room were the oldest little girls, six precious ones sitting up amidst rag dolls and stuffed animals, astounded by the incoming guests. Several began crying, looking to their caregiver for comfort. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The others moved on to tour the facility while I took a seat and blew up Happy Face balloons to distract them. After a short time they began to enjoy the brightly colored new additions to the array of play things. I rose, to look for the others and came to a room with six tiny babies lying on a bed. Their caregivers standing over them were making sure they were wrapped up, warm and happy. The oldest one was the most animated, and when our driver came in and started talking and making faces, she just smiled and giggled readily. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;“Nursing infants gurgle choruses about You, toddlers shout the songs that drown out enemy talk.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Psalm 8:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt7OO30u2I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/vlZCuKgBNXU/s1600-h/PAGE+24+-+Girls+Group+4+EDIT.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#33ccff;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096802887740472162" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt7OO30u2I/AAAAAAAAAkQ/vlZCuKgBNXU/s400/PAGE+24+-+Girls+Group+4+EDIT.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The innocents were literally snatched from death and the evil intent the enemy had for them. Here they lay, looked after, a future, a hope given to them by the obedience of a family and workers dedicated to seeing the plans to “prosper and not to harm” the Father has for these precious ones. The process of “redeeming” these babies is difficult as well as dangerous, involving many people willing to risk their lives to save these girls from murder at the hands of midwives under the direction of paying superstitious parents. I encourage you to visit the website to learn about the ministry and the practice of female infanticide in the village areas of India. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#33ccff;"&gt;“I knew you before you were born, I formed you in the womb.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jeremiah 1:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-9028201846595968966?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/9028201846595968966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/9028201846595968966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/saved.html' title='Saved'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt7lO30u3I/AAAAAAAAAkY/WULXcEH-lrE/s72-c/PAGE+24+-+BABY+Rachel+3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-7017315073354543664</id><published>2007-03-30T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T14:23:26.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GHANA</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;Multitudes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096804472583404418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt8qe30u4I/AAAAAAAAAkg/cjPUXEFcLpI/s400/PAGE+25+-+PANORAMA.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;"Great multitudes were gathered together..." &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Matthew 13:2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p align="left"&gt;Around and around and around she goes – where she stops only God knows! I returned from Russia and India with only a few short weeks to prepare for my sixth Samaritan’s Purse Operation Christmas Child distribution. While this would not be the first outreach of 2007 for Sunshine After Rain Ministries (typically Ghana is the first mission trip of the new year), it is certainly the most significant in numbers. &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruELO30u5I/AAAAAAAAAko/zJyRAqc8ue8/s1600-h/PAGE+25+-+Boy+EDIT.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096812731805514642" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruELO30u5I/AAAAAAAAAko/zJyRAqc8ue8/s320/PAGE+25+-+Boy+EDIT.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Fourteen thousand gift boxes to hand out to twenty-eight thousand eager hands, not to mention the thousands who come to see what we bring, who also hear the Gospel message. No matter how many times I stand before a crowd of eager African children, the site still takes my breath away! As far as my near-sighted eyes can focus I see their upturned faces, straining to see over those in front of them, edging ever closer and closer until a veritable shoving match ensues. Combined with the heat and the numbers, it doesn’t take long until those closest to the front start to trip and fall, and out come the switches of the teachers trying to contain the crowd and the unruliness.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;The first morning of the distribution started out bumpy, due to late trucks and difficult load ups. But when we arrived the crowds were waiting. It was hot in Ho region, and with the added dust in the air kicked up by 8,000 moving feet – it quickly made for unbearable circumstances, bearable only through Christ who continued to strengthen us all. The longer the program takes the more the word spreads through the town and more village children and parents show up. Parents in great need, parents wanting something for their child, all saying “Madame, where is my box? Do you have something for me?” &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;The multitudes showed up for Jesus. The Word tells us He was moved with compassion for they were like “&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;sheep without a shepherd.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Mark 6:34&lt;/span&gt; Even then, Jesus knew many would walk away from His presence “without a shepherd.” He knew healing, full bellies, wisdom and promises wouldn’t change their hearts. During the distribution we offer not only a small physical token, but a greater gift of His love to these, we are laboring to serve. The multitudes are still showing up to see Jesus. We prayed each day they found Him. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#ff6600;"&gt;“God’s bright glory has risen for you. The whole earth is wrapped in darkness, all the people sunk in deep darkness. But God rises on you. His sunrise glory breaks over you. Nations will come to your light; kings to your sunburst brightness. Look up! Look around! Watch as they gather…” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Isaiah 60:1-4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-7017315073354543664?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/7017315073354543664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/7017315073354543664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/08/ghana.html' title='GHANA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/Rrt8qe30u4I/AAAAAAAAAkg/cjPUXEFcLpI/s72-c/PAGE+25+-+PANORAMA.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-2313238639017606570</id><published>2007-03-30T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T14:30:45.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Of Sun, Sand and Sweat</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruGD-30u6I/AAAAAAAAAkw/kY3cxjE-xS0/s1600-h/PAGE+26+-+Crocs.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096814806274718626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruGD-30u6I/AAAAAAAAAkw/kY3cxjE-xS0/s200/PAGE+26+-+Crocs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;“Blessed be your name, when the sun’s shining down on me, when the world’s all as it should be, blessed be Your name.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Blessed Be Your Name – Tree63&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of each day when I am finally able to pull off my bright yellow “Croc” shoes, I usually can’t decide if there is more dirt on my feet or in my lungs. I always what is outside is most of it, while fearing the dust 10,000 feet kick up in the hours of the day is settling somewhere in my respiratory system. Our activity for the day included one “big” (1500) distribution (which turned out to be BIGGER and take longer). Then our one “small” distribution (300) turned out to be four spread out across the Ho area, with over 300 each. We load up, unload, set up, stir up (hearts that is), line up, mark up, pass out (the boxes) and start over back down the next road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In the movie &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;“Blood Diamond”,&lt;/span&gt; there is an exchange between two of the characters resulting in a confrontation. One assured the other he was leaving Africa; the other laughed and said “the red dirt of Africa is in your blood, you will never leave.” The movie’s protagonist dies clutching the dirt, it slips through his fingers mingling with the blood pouring from his fatal wound. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walk, work , sweat and breathe among the Africans – the scripted words echo in my soul. Africa DOES get in your blood; I suppose one way or the other. But Africa should be in our blood, one way or the other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are reminded often in the Word we are ONE body in Christ. &lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#996633;"&gt;“If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, AND in the healing!”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#996633;"&gt;(1 Cor 12:26)&lt;/span&gt; Paul, explains the concept of one body just before he tells us the &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;“better way”&lt;/span&gt; of love &lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#996633;"&gt;(see 1 Corinthians 13)&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we travel from location to location, down the market places, through the humanity, the poverty, the need, we see a world our “fallen” or “broken” Christian catch phrases can’t begin to describe. This is not “Africa” hurting, or suffering, or dying. This is YOU and ME, members of His body, dying, suffering and hurting for failing our brothers and sisters in Africa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If one part flourishes, every other part enters into exuberance. You are Christ’s body. That’s who you are! You must never forget this. Only as you accept your part of that body does your part mean ANYTHING!"  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 Corinthians 12:27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-2313238639017606570?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/2313238639017606570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/2313238639017606570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/08/of-sun-sand-and-sweat.html' title='Of Sun, Sand and Sweat'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruGD-30u6I/AAAAAAAAAkw/kY3cxjE-xS0/s72-c/PAGE+26+-+Crocs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-7367846323898341307</id><published>2007-03-30T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T14:43:56.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Imagine</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096816812024445874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruH4u30u7I/AAAAAAAAAk4/5WYZfuDVQAY/s400/PAGE+26+-+Crowd+5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;A popular Christian song that crossed over into pop play lists begins with the title words, “I can only imagine”. But the truth of the matter that is taught to us in the Old Testament &lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;(Isaiah 64:4)&lt;/span&gt; and repeated in &lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;1 Corinthians 2:9&lt;/span&gt; is that we can't imagine!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;“No one's ever seen or heard anything like this.  Never so much as imagined anything quite like it - what God has arranged for those who love Him.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day of our Samaritan’s Purse distribution the above verse resonated in my soul as I stood before thousands of school children.  Everywhere, every side, every which way I could look were faces staring in wonderment, waiting, and watching – but they were probably also beginning to exercise their imaginations!  They stood gathered under the shade trees of the schoolyard and watched while some of their peers off-loaded the huge Operation Christmas child cartons from the truck.  As the older schoolboys hoisted the parcels on top of their heads it was obvious they were heavy.  But do you think the children could picture the “shoe boxes” of all shapes and sizes inside? Of course not! Do you think they could grasp the diversity of each one?  Some plastic, some small, some large, some wrapped with brightly colored Christmas paper, some prepared with the carefully drawn sketches of the child that filled the box back home.  In one word NO!&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruINO30u8I/AAAAAAAAAlA/8vlRCd0WyNA/s1600-h/PAGE+27+-+Girls+with+box+open.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096817164211764162" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="158" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruINO30u8I/AAAAAAAAAlA/8vlRCd0WyNA/s200/PAGE+27+-+Girls+with+box+open.jpg" width="227" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think our imagination gets influenced by our own 21st century view of grandeur.  When we think what great things God could prepare for us in heaven we equate it to mansions we have seen driving through the “ritzy” part of town.  You know, the ones with big manicured lawns, more rooms than people, and a whole staff to take care of the menial household and gardening tasks we won't have time for as we sing hallelujahs.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In heaven, we assume we'll have wings (or something) so Mercedes, Hummers and Rolls Royces need not crowd out the more important imaginations like – chocolate without calories. Oh, the sufferings of a fallen world Oh, the cynicism of western “more means better” and “he who dies with the most toys...”  still dies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the children hold out their hands to receive the box, the air around us fills with the sounds of excitement!  You can hear those who were first in line begin to open their boxes and the shouts, the laughter, the claps of enthusiasm roll back up to us like peals of delighted thunder. We’re bending over cartons, marking books (to ensure one box per child) twisting, turning, and saying “God bless you” as fast as we can.  Our sweat drips together with the Africans, and our smiles are equally as big as we hand them their box. They cannot imagine!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096818289493195746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruJOu30u-I/AAAAAAAAAlQ/iRXTSVQf0vQ/s400/PAGE+28+-+Boxes+5.jpg" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;There is one more group that would have a hard time imagining the faces of joy at distribution site, those on the other side of the world that prepare the boxes.  As I look at the hand drawn pictures of an American child being held up by and African 10,000 miles away – my imagination lifts up toward the heavens. When the girls pull out their hair clips, brightly colored purses, a red feather boa, donned with great joy and laughter, I sense the Father saying “Boy, have I got a surprise waiting for you!”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Much of the mystery, joy, and delight of the true “Christmas Child” has been stolen in America by a man in a red suit with a white beard, uttering “Ho, Ho, Ho”.  I can say with confidence – IN HO – the joy, the mystery, the delight of the “Greatest Gift’ was multiplied thousands and thousands of times each day. Once again I am proud to be in the “Operation!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096818001730386898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruI9-30u9I/AAAAAAAAAlI/Nz9v9JlEzNs/s400/Page+28+-+Stitched+Photo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-7367846323898341307?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/7367846323898341307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/7367846323898341307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/imagine.html' title='Imagine'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruH4u30u7I/AAAAAAAAAk4/5WYZfuDVQAY/s72-c/PAGE+26+-+Crowd+5.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-3012414091742352561</id><published>2007-03-30T06:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T15:22:48.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And Then Some...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruSLu30u_I/AAAAAAAAAlY/bxxS0roibFQ/s1600-h/PAGE+29+-+Stitch+1-4.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096828133558238194" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 637px" height="485" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruSLu30u_I/AAAAAAAAAlY/bxxS0roibFQ/s400/PAGE+29+-+Stitch+1-4.jpg" width="216" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#000099;"&gt;“You sent a gift more than once for my needs. Not that I seek the gift itself, but I seek for the profit which increases your account.” &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Phil 4:17&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your generosity provides for more than just overhead and travel needs. Sunshine After Rain Ministries supports local missionaries and pastors in Ghana, Uganda and in the cities of Voronezh and Ekaterinburg, Russia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;We shipped over 5,000 Bibles to Ghana, for use in the summer Vacation Bible School programs of the Pastors and ministries we support. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We send monthly support for Mephibosheth School for the disabled in Cape Coast, Ghana. In February 2007, we carried 75 lbs of books and tapes for the blind to Ghana to be disbursed by APF Ministries. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;All year we purchase clown supplies and costumes used in the Joni and Friends Family Retreat “Clown Station” ministering to over 100 families affected by disability. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;With each journey we take humanitarian supplies in as well. Children’s gifts and aid went to orphanages in Tanzania, Sri Lanka, Bosnia, China, Russia and India. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Perhaps most significantly, in 2006, we began building an orphanage in Anamadura, Sri Lanka through an initiative of Gateway Outreach. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;YOU are investing in the seeds for us to plant. The Lord of the Harvest has promised to bring forth the fruit of our labor! &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096828859407711234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 543px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 395px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="317" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruS1-30vAI/AAAAAAAAAlg/ox3OYKEnnXs/s400/PAGE+-+Stich+ALL+Bottom.jpg" width="432" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-3012414091742352561?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/3012414091742352561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/3012414091742352561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/and-then-some.html' title='And Then Some...'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_k7wHevGgwBE/RruSLu30u_I/AAAAAAAAAlY/bxxS0roibFQ/s72-c/PAGE+29+-+Stitch+1-4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-8629629077117348946</id><published>2007-03-30T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T15:39:27.935-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Far</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;2007&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#009900;"&gt;RUSSIA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;December 28 - January 7&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;East West International Christmas ministry to local orphanages in Voronezh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#3333ff;"&gt;INDIA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;January 7 - 16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;East West International research and development trip to Raipur and Madurai for future teams in conjunction with Redeeming India&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#993399;"&gt;GHANA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;February 12 -27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Samaritan's Purse distribution to 14,000 school children in Ho Region, humanitarian distribution in conjunction with APF Ministries&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;STILL TO COME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;"&gt;INDIA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;April 15 - May 3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In conjunction with Gateway Outreach and East West - ministry to local orphanages, villages and Pastor training&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;November 8-24&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Fellowship Bible Dallas and East West Ministries Pastor Training and Orphanage outreach in northern India&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;TEXAS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;June 22 - July 8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Two Joni and Friends Family Retreat camps for families affected by disabilities&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;CHINA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Fall 2007 (to be announced)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Program's for University students, orphanage visits in Taian, Jinan and Beijing, coordinated with University teachers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Dates and places listed above reflect a continuation of ministry in 2007.  All is subject to the Lord's direction and provision.  Please join with me in sending the Gospel forth to many nations through prayer and financial support. Sunshine After Rain Ministries is a 501 (c)3 non-profit organization all donations considered tax deductible by the IRS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#660000;"&gt;It has always been my ambition to preach the Gospel where Christ was not known, so that I would not be building on someone else's foundation.  &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Romans 15:20&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-8629629077117348946?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/8629629077117348946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/8629629077117348946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2007/03/so-far.html' title='So Far'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617100285795193</id><published>2004-12-01T21:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T19:09:19.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VOLUME 12 - 2004</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/INTERNET%20-%20Airplane%20wing.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 167px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px" height="227" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/INTERNET%20-%20Airplane%20wing.jpg" width="150" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;The View from Here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;Up above the clouds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;there is no crying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;His hand has wiped the tears&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;from every face&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;no sadness and no sorrow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;where night shall be no more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;for all the former things have&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;passed away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#330099;"&gt;Excerpt from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#330099;"&gt;Sunshine After Rain Poetry and Prose&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;“Please make sure your seat belt is securely fastened…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I settle into my window seat and watch from the tiny portal at 21A, luggage load into the “belly of the winged beast.” It is my familiar ritual, but in these post-9/11 days, international travel is seldom familiar. There are new security checks, no more nail files, and guarded looks toward foreigners. I hold my breath as the plane takes flight, not for fear of flying or of the future, but for the ministry adventure awaiting this foreigner. I will be the stranger in a strange land. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flying often may add frequent flyer miles to my account, but look on the faces below and see what is added to your Kingdom account! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;“… I am looking for what may be credited to your account…” &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Philippians 4:17&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I travel the miles, but you make possible the smiles. You enabled a year of diverse mission and ministry. Your generous faithful support and prayers continue to keep us flying to “the ends of the earth” sharing the good news. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fasten your mental seat belts, hold on to your hats, turn the page, read of the adventures you took part in, and the lives eternally changed, credited where it counts!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;…store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 6:20-21&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617100285795193?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617100285795193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617100285795193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/volume-12-2004.html' title='VOLUME 12 - 2004'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617165398710571</id><published>2004-12-01T21:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T19:15:07.890-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chosen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/INTERNET%20-%2074-florence-prisoner.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/INTERNET%20-%2074-florence-prisoner.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On the way&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;struggle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;against the world&lt;br /&gt;against the flesh&lt;br /&gt;against the devil&lt;br /&gt;against the questions&lt;br /&gt;against the answers&lt;br /&gt;against the ticking clock&lt;br /&gt;against the lie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;suffering&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with the widow&lt;br /&gt;with the childless&lt;br /&gt;with the orphan&lt;br /&gt;with the broken&lt;br /&gt;with the poor&lt;br /&gt;with the hungry&lt;br /&gt;with the need&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;In life&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;praying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;for strength&lt;br /&gt;for grace&lt;br /&gt;for mercy&lt;br /&gt;for love&lt;br /&gt;for gentleness&lt;br /&gt;for patiencefor peace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Listen to me, all you who are serious about right living and committed to seeking God. Ponder the rock from which you were cut, the quarry from which you were dug. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 51:1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617165398710571?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617165398710571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617165398710571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/chosen.html' title='Chosen'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617194669927555</id><published>2004-12-01T21:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T19:19:06.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CHINA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/SHANDONG%20Pictorial%20Cover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Watching His Word&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc6600;"&gt;…so is My word that goes out from My mouth: It will not return to Me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 55:11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In a visit to China’s Shandong University, a graduate student requested to write an article for a regional magazine (see magazine cover below). Our University program is designed specifically to generate questions that allow for faith, hope and love answers to be heard clearly and effectively.  Although evangelism is strictly prohibited, answers to direct questions regarding personal beliefs are allowed without censure.  From the article and accompanying translation on pages 3-5, you will see the accomplishment of His desire and the achievement of His purpose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shandong Province is situated in the eastern part of China on the lower reaches of the Yellow River. The province has a total area of 156,000 square kilometers (about 60,235 square miles) and a total population of over 90 million.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody really knows how many Christians there are in China.  Accurate statistics are hard to come by because there is no systematic or standard reporting system and the numbers change rapidly.  Estimates for members of registered (government sanctioned) congregations range up to 15-20 million, with more than 37,000 congregations meeting in church buildings referred to as churches and 25,000 meeting in other locations, referred to as meeting points.   But there are also many millions of believers, perhaps 45-80 million of them, who meet in house churches that are not government approved.  Even by placing the estimate at the high end of 100 million total Christians, one is reminded that there are still more than one billion Chinese who don't know Christ!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#660000;"&gt;When He saw the crowds, He had compassion on them …Then He said to His disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into His harvest field."  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matt 9:37-38&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617194669927555?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617194669927555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617194669927555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/china.html' title='CHINA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617214149951427</id><published>2004-12-01T21:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T19:25:49.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TRANSLATION: Walk towards the World with a Sunny Smile</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Charlynn-pg1.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Charlynn-pg1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/Charlynn-pg2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;We heard from Mrs. Deborah Phalen one week ago that they had invited their American friend named Charlynn Johns to visit them the next week. At that time, we only knew that she was a volunteer of an organization for cripple people. She is from Texas in USA , and has three children: the oldest daughter is 23 years old; the second son is 19 years old; the youngest son is 17 years old . This year she is just 44 years old. Eight years ago she took part as a volunteer of a charity organization. In these eight years she covered more 10 countries, and visited lots of orphans and cripple people including old people, women and children there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that morning she came - a woman with golden hair and blue eyes. She seems much younger than her age with all smiles on her face. When Mrs. Phalen introduced her to us, she screamed with smile constantly. Mrs. Phalen asked us whether or not we still remember which state she comes from (Texas), she screamed again. We could know that she felt she was being praised from her screaming. Mrs. Phalen is a very careful professor with her work, and her classes are very interesting, and popular with students. This time she gave most of the time to Ms. Charlynn. First of all, Ms Charlynn gave us a short time speech, and then waited for our questions with interest. She constantly made encouraging gestures with her hands, facing these shy Chinese doctors. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we asked: Why does she take up Charity career? Do her family support her career? How does her fund come from? What difficulties did she meet at the beginning? How does she communicate with cripple people in different countries? She listened quietly and then answered questions warmly sometimes with exaggerated gestures. The answer to those questions are very simple: Because of love; Because she loves these things. Her family supports her career very much, and her children are proud that they have a great mother. Charlynn also said: “ If you give more, you will get more.” She has gotten grateful smile from these cripple people. This is the third time for her to come to China, she has been to HangZhou, Jinan and Tai’an orphanages. She said that when she went to Tai’an orphanage last year her clown face scared some of the cripple children, but later they were attracted by her. When she left, many children felt very sad, embraced her tightly and waved to her constantly. She said that she never could forget that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlynn learned how to put on make-up from a professional “Clown School”. The process of putting on make up is pretty complicated, but watched her putting on all of her makeup. Actually, putting on make up is secret, but this time was an exception for our Chinese students.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the beginning, we didn’t know what she would do. We felt that she maybe just taught us some reasons like other people did when they visited our university. In general, that’s one kind of feeling of facing camera, sitting seriously. At first, Charlynn also did like that, but she was putting on make up. She put on powder on her face first, and then put on colorful oil on it. She explained the reasons while making up, and also appraised by herself, making us open our eyes widely to see what on earth she would make her up like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon she became a happy clown. Her first performance is to take out three strings of different lengths. She let us observe carefully. She said: “Look, these three strings don’t have the same length; it’s like our life. We all want to be just the same as others. How could we make one end of each string together with the rest? However, these three strings changed suddenly, unto all the same length! When she showed us after turning her hand around, we all felt so surprised by that, and asked how she made that. Surely, that’s just magic! When Charlynn told us how the trick worked, we laughed. That was such a simple method, which magicians’ use that cheats our eyes in performance. She told us we must be careful when we observe exterior things; don’t be overconfident with your eyes and your brain. What is critical is to use your mind. Probably we are not the same with others, cripple or something else, but don’t worry about that. If you concern yourself with others, you will find that we actually also can do things well as others do. At that time, we came to know that Charlynn was using an interesting performance to implicate and teach us something else, which is one person can’t be always the same with others, but don’t be obsessed by that; if you use your heart you will be able to know we always can find we have something in common with others from our bottoms of the heart. It seems like cheating by us, but it is used often in our life, especially for those cripple people who are in great need of concern.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617214149951427?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617214149951427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617214149951427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/translation-walk-towards-world-with.html' title='TRANSLATION: Walk towards the World with a Sunny Smile'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617255953239247</id><published>2004-12-01T21:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T19:29:19.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Walk toward the World (cont)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Charlynn-pg4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/Charlynn-pg4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Charlynn-pg3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Charlynn-pg3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In one game, she asked four students to perform with her together; one was a girl, the other three were boys. She wore different head decorations, which represents different trees for the three boys, and each of them held a shinning star like angels. But that girl had nothing at all, these three boy acting like trees screamed proudly around the girl: “We are great; We are strong; We are important!” However, the acting girl cried sadly, she was one poor apple tree with nothing, and then Charlynn let her pray, that she be the same image as those strong and important trees. So her resolutions came true after she prayed, but every time she would have new discontents. She wanted to be more like other trees. Then later, she could bear delicious fruits, but she was still unhappy. Suddenly, one apple fell to the ground, broken into two halves. Charlynn said seriously with that broken apple: “Look, in fact, the core of apples are the same. They have no any difference; the difference between them is just outside.” We became quiet all, for an interesting story contain so much wisdom and inspiration of a foreigner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another game she played is blowing balloon. She took out a balloon first and asked us how to blow. We gave our ideas such as following: Put it on your mouth first, then blow it. She did as we said, then the balloon fell down from her mouth. Then we said “we also need to tie it after we finish blowing.” So she blew up one balloon. “Now, if I stick this balloon with a big needle, what do you think will happen?”  she said.   “Surely it will explode” we replied. Some students even covered their ears, but a strange thing happened, the balloon didn’t explode at all after she stuck it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all felt so amazed. She told us it depended on how you did it. You know, balloons always have a part on it. If you stick the needle through the thickest part, the balloon will not explode. On the contrary, if you did through the thinnest part, you will definitely hear the sound of explosion. She demonstrated that’s true; it’s just only a common knowledge.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But her purpose is to try to tell us something else, that is how you should treat and guide those cripple people, and how to make them find the best life style for them and no dangers happen to them. The spirits of cripple people are like the thinnest part of balloons, which is easier to be broken, fragile and needs concern badly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meanwhile, it seems like she was reminding us that we should notice the way that we communicate with other people. Don’t find the most fragile and sensitive part of people, the place where it is easy to hurt them.  Charlynn said: “Today, the purpose of my program is to help you learn to smile to others. When you face smiles from cripple people of different countries, you will be able to find that they understand you and talk with you from the bottom of their hearts. I also want to say to use your loving heart and smile, then your right ways of communications with others will guide you be able to approach cripple people and bring love and dignity that they need most. I wish that this class could bring a happy memory to you.” She bowed to us to express her thanks. She seemed to be touched by our understanding and warmth towards her.    We were full of thinking and gratitude by 3 hours face-to-face talking. What she told us seemed very simple, things we have known since we were children. But her vivid performance reminded us suddenly the simple reasons from the surface have strong function, which at least can make us aware of how to love other people not only those who need help badly in the world. We know she will go to other places to help other people in China. She is very busy, but very happy. Just like words of one song: “I will be happy because others are happy.”   She is doing what she likes as most Americans do.  She assists people who are in great need of help, and brings them happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;She travels different places in the world, playing the role of her own clown. Life is a big stage. Charlynn is also doing THE MISSIONS THAT GOD GIVES HER, playing the role on her own life stage. After class for a long time, we could still remember Charlynn’s smiling face turning up in front of our eyes, inside of which is a heart full of beautiful happiness. We know that she will continue to walk forward to go to other places in the world, bringing people who need help, happiness and good fortune FROM THE GOD.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617255953239247?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617255953239247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617255953239247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/walk-toward-world-cont.html' title='Walk toward the World (cont)'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617280450293948</id><published>2004-12-01T21:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T19:46:08.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Our God</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0320.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/DSCF0320.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The LORD our God, the LORD is one. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Deut 6:4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with the article in Shandong Province magazine we were also given an amazing broadcast opportunity for Shandong Province Radio. A team of people came to conduct a one-hour interview for the "Sunshine Ladies”. I had an opportunity to tell how God's love has made the difference in my life, and how important it is to share God's love with others. When the interview was over I presented the woman with Joni's Erickson Tada’s autobiography (in Chinese). The woman was very grateful and said "I think I will find my God in these pages!" I replied, "if you are looking for Him, rest assured you will find Him - He is looking for YOU!" &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When our time was over, I inquired how many people would hear the broadcast - to my amazement she replied "Oh about 20 million!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is watching over His word and will perform all that He has planned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Praise God for His opportunities and the future plans He is arranging for us again in China this Fall. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617280450293948?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617280450293948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617280450293948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/our-god.html' title='Our God'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617310744489268</id><published>2004-12-01T21:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T12:22:05.840-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wrecking Crew</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0116.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/DSCF0116.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#009900;"&gt;The tools of our trade aren’t for marketing or manipulation, but they are for demolishing that entire massively corrupt culture.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Shanghai, China, a city of 13 million, the economic influx of Western money is evident everywhere. Twenty-four hours a day many old buildings and historical sites are being torn down and replaced with glass and steel architectural marvels. Where real estate is a premium – the higher the building the more money generated for the owners. One day as the Joni &amp; Friends Wheels for the World team made our way through choking traffic, we passed a structure not more than 20 years old but only about 10 stories high. Suspended from bamboo scaffolds were workers with handheld sledgehammers bringing the building down – brick by brick. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#009900;"&gt;We use our powerful God-tools for smashing warped philosophies, tearing down barriers erected against the truth of God, fitting every loose thought and emotion and impulse into the structure of life shaped by Christ.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the height of its building boom in the mid 90’s, 1/5 of all heavy cranes used in the world were operating in Shanghai! Yet here, where so much high tech and sophisticated construction is proceeding – simple manpower was being used to employ more of the masses. I was struck by the parallel between the men on the scaffold and our own small team of Christian workers bringing down spiritual strongholds – brick by brick (one person at a time) – ideology by ideology, gaining access to hearts with the gift of a wheelchair and a Bible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The SARS threat had put the Joni &amp;amp; Friends wheelchair delivery on hold for almost six months, (from April to October) causing many logistical issues and more government involvement with the chairs left for us to deliver. Undaunted, our team of eight, shared joy and smiles, over 100 wheelchairs, and for many the gift of the first Bible they have ever owned. We continue with all diligence the work He has set before us, bringing down strongholds and building up the Kingdom!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#009900;"&gt;Our tools are ready at hand for clearing the ground of every obstruction &amp;amp; building lives of obedience into maturity. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 10:4-6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617310744489268?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617310744489268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617310744489268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/wrecking-crew.html' title='The Wrecking Crew'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617342089412538</id><published>2004-12-01T21:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T12:22:36.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eternally Engraved</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0202.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ffcc33;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/DSCF0202.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;You’re our last hope. Is it not true that in You the orphan finds mercy? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hosea 14:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While China’s policy of one child per family effectively slowed the population growth in a country of over 1.3 billion; it has left thousands of female infants abandoned to an increasingly overcrowded institutional system. Ninety-five percent of the healthy children living in Chinese orphanages are girls, a number ranging over several hundred thousand. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt;“I will not leave you orphaned. I’m coming back” &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;John 14:18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prayers prevailed against bureaucratic challenges, allowing us to revisit the orphanage in Taian for the third consecutive year. After arriving, no one in our party was without a personal escort, encircled on both sides by enthusiastic children. For the first time the director and his staff allowed us to visit the baby room, a surprising display of trust. The nursery area was not unlike others I have experienced - an open room with too many cribs lined against the walls, too few caregivers and even fewer toys. “CARE EE &amp; Company” blew bazillions of bubbles, tickled fingers and toes, and spoke the international babyspeak of “googoos and gagas”. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Afterwards, our performance for the older children included tricks, storytelling, and the special treat of taking a Polaroid picture of them with the clown! As we prepared to leave, the director of the orphanage thanked us for our continued remembrance of the children, the photos and gifts of toys and school supplies. He then presented CARE EE with a beautifully engraved jade plaque commemorating our visit. It is a day I will never forget. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc9933;"&gt;"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 49:15-16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Far away places have become part of the geography of my heart. One such place internally-eternally mapped for me, is the orphanage in Taian. Joy paved the road, prayer made a path where there was none, and I journey there frequently looking at the smiling images of the children who call it home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617342089412538?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617342089412538'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617342089412538'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/eternally-engraved.html' title='Eternally Engraved'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617382802656834</id><published>2004-12-01T21:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T19:50:28.026-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Joy in the Journey</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0305.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/DSCF0305.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 126:2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what a journey it was in China! Daily performances at the University, visiting a local kindergarten class and of course the day we spent at the Jinan Orphanage for the Disabled. We were allowed to visit the 138 children because of the great need at the facility. While there is fear in allowing foreigners in to such facilities, the children’s welfare took precedence with the director. Before going, we asked, “what would you like us to bring, what is their greatest need?” We were told “bring anything, they need everything.” Sunshine After Rain donors contributed for just such an opportunity, and several of Ms. Phalen’s students gladly did the shopping. Looking diligently for bargains on socks, blankets, towels and toys, they even negotiated good prices for milk and basic food supplies. We arrived with boxes and sacks filled to the brim and hearts ready to pour into theirs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in My house. Test me in this," says the LORD Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Malachi 3:10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The children LOVED the clown, and she loved them back! The stories and tricks presented a problem for the interpreter. She was so caught up in the performance that she frequently just stood, mouth agape wondering what would happen next. At that point another student in the audience would make the translation for her, garnering even more giggles from the children. They enjoyed having their picture made with CARE EE and found the Polaroid pictures quite a surprise. At first unable to comprehend the pictures needed time to develop, they laughed with delight to slowly watch their faces appear on the photograph. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although it has been a year since my visit, the ministry at the orphanage continues to develop as well. Sunshine After Rain left $250, used for purchasing 50 new pairs of shoes, 10 sets of long johns, 15 winter coats and 84 pair of socks. Just before the Christmas break Ms. Phalen held a silent auction for the orphanage. Students contributed a wide variety of items and then “auctioned” them. The two University classes were able to raise close to $200, enabling the purchase of even more warm clothing items and much needed basic supplies. The Phalen’s are now back in China and the clown is on her way in the Fall of 2004!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617382802656834?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617382802656834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617382802656834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/joy-in-journey.html' title='Joy in the Journey'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113623446022836104</id><published>2004-12-01T21:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-03T18:59:57.486-08:00</updated><title type='text'>China Finds Hope</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/1-24%20Village%20of%20Hope%20-%20GROUP%20waver.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/1-24%20Village%20of%20Hope%20-%20GROUP%20waver.4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;…the faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven … All over the world this gospel is bearing fruit and growing… &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Colossians 1:56-6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask a farmer if he enjoys plowing fallow ground in the heat of the day, and the response will likely be “it’s a job that has to be done”. As I travel from country to community, I carry seeds of faith and hope from one side of the globe to the other, scattering as I go. Work in China, where Communism has sown seeds of atheism for over 50 years, is hard labor for those in the harvest field. This is a germination story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;He continued, "Do you see how this story works? All My stories work this way. The farmer plants the Word.”  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Mark 4:14 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my last night in Jinan, students from the University came to say goodbye. Two of the female students took me aside and said, “We are not Christians, but we believe in what you are doing. The stories of the orphanage in Ghana really affected us. As Chinese students we have very little, but please take our money to the children in Africa, we want to help.” I was deeply moved and agreed to carry their offering to the Village of Hope in Ghana on my next trip in January 2004.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three months later, down the road that is no road by our standards, I took their contribution to the orphanage. After the performance, we made a special presentation to the director. The children lined up, happy to sign a card filled with thanks, good wishes, and blessings for me to send to their new friends in China. Then they sang a song for us “In times like these, when I have lost my mother, when I have lost my father, when I have lost it all – I still have Jesus.” Somewhere in China two women heard a story of Africa and now children in Africa at Village of Hope are praying to meet them in Paradise – far from Communist China – far from the despair of Africa – but not too far for Hope.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;Be patient, then, brothers, until the Lord's coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop and how patient he is … &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;James 5:7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113623446022836104?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113623446022836104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113623446022836104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/china-finds-hope.html' title='China Finds Hope'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113623790682484667</id><published>2004-12-01T21:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T16:08:59.526-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GHANA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0063.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/DSCF0063.2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Non-diplomatic Community&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterScripture" style="margin: 12pt 0in 12pt -4.5pt; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-family: verdana; text-align: justify;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:path connecttype="rect" gradientshapeok="t" extrusionok="f"&gt;&lt;o:lock aspectratio="t" ext="edit"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="GODFIRST" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt; R&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/o:lock&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:path connecttype="rect" gradientshapeok="t" extrusionok="f"&gt;&lt;o:lock aspectratio="t" ext="edit"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="GODFIRST" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;emember your journey…that others may know the righteous acts of God… &lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;font-size:78%;" &gt;Micah 6:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/o:lock&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" align="justify"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="CHAIR" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image003.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;In January I returned&lt;/span&gt; for the fourth time to &lt;b&gt;Ghana&lt;/b&gt;. I’m not sure I will ever get over the sites of Africa – a foray into uncivilized civilization. “&lt;i&gt;God Saves Hair Cuts&lt;/i&gt;”, “&lt;i&gt;Protect Us From Evil Tires &amp; Brakes&lt;/i&gt;”, “&lt;i&gt;God First Carburetor&lt;/i&gt;” Talismans of faith and protection displayed so proudly and openly! Images of life far out of the fast lane, the smell of livestock commingled with lives.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Red dust in the air mixed with heat and 100% humidity weighed heavily upon this winterized Texas traveler.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" align="justify"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="DSCF0054" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image005.jpg" grayscale="t" blacklevel="7864f" gain="74473f"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;The road from Accra’s suburb&lt;/span&gt; of Medina, to &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Echoing Hills&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Home for the Disabled&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; is quite an “&lt;i&gt;African experience&lt;/i&gt;”. Once you turn off from the main thoroughfare, commerce of all kinds commences; household goods hang from tree branches, and mattresses, ready for honeymooners make good afternoon resting spots for vendors unable to rid themselves of their wares.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Cars compete with goats and the gutsy pedestrians bravely trying to get from here to there – but where &lt;b&gt;is&lt;/b&gt; there?&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The last turn leads to the end of the pavement and to the raw red earth rising to choke the unfortunate not traveling by car.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Allan and Patsy Fulton &lt;i&gt;(APF Ministries) &lt;/i&gt;both commented it was good for the &lt;b&gt;Deputy Secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services of the United States of America&lt;/b&gt; (&lt;i&gt;Claude Allen)&lt;/i&gt; to arrive by a “&lt;i&gt;real&lt;/i&gt;” African road; one that would lead him through the squalor and poverty surrounding the oasis of mercy &lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;– Echoing Hills Home for Disabled&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;The Director, William Aghbetti&lt;/span&gt;, greeted me with warm enthusiasm and reflected on my first visit in 2001, one that brought the Fulton’s and their well-digging ministry to the complex.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The US government was now investigating the success of that water project as a model for future wells in the region.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But imagine the schedule of a clown and a government official’s visit coinciding!&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It was no coincidence – more like God’s providence.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Cell phones rang between security personal and various aides.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The &lt;b&gt;US Embassy Site Director&lt;/b&gt; explained in detail where we should be standing for the greeting, what could and should be said, all to ensure proper protocols were followed; exciting, and yet so alien in this uncultured setting.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterScripture" style="margin-top: 8pt;" align="justify"&gt;“… you will be brought before kings and governors, and all on account of My name. This will result in your being witnesses to them.”&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;font-size:78%;" &gt;Luke 21:12-13&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:path connecttype="rect" gradientshapeok="t" extrusionok="f"&gt;&lt;o:lock aspectratio="t" ext="edit"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="DSCF0063" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg" grayscale="t" blacklevel="5898f" gain="69719f" cropright="5707f" cropleft="5707f" cropbottom="7602f"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Sirens blared,&lt;/span&gt; blue lights flashed from the police motorcycles leading the official motorcade, while the maelstrom of dust created by the fifteen-car entourage mostly obliterated the approaching vehicles.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Police first, then security, and finally the official stepped out into the heat of the day, into the heart of &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Echoing Hills Village&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/o:lock&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;I think we were all a bit surprised&lt;/span&gt; to see the Deputy Secretary was African American.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It seemed to immediately make him more approachable by those of us gathered for this momentous occasion.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He was very cordial, and of course “diplomatic”.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Allan spoke eloquently of the efforts initiated by &lt;i&gt;APF/Living Water Ministries&lt;/i&gt; to provide the well.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;He explained the obvious benefits of safe, clean and sanitary water, not only to &lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Echoing Hills&lt;/span&gt; and their 40+ disabled residents, but also to the surrounding community.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;One that had been forced to dangerously gather water (unclean at best – poison at worst) from an abandoned cement encasement for old telephone wire; unbelievable to learn, astounding to see first hand.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The well enables them to give water freely, and helps the community see the disabled no longer as cursed – but blessed.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="DANCERS" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image004.jpg" blacklevel="3932f" gain="69719f"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Our group&lt;/span&gt; (&lt;i&gt;consisting of Diplomatic Corps, Embassy Personnel, TV Crew, Journalists, Diplomatic Security, and of course VERY armed guards with VERY BIG guns&lt;/i&gt;) all crossed the property hearing about &lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Echoing Hills Village&lt;/span&gt;, how it began, what it does, and the 100% funding from US Christian organizations.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;After the tour of the facility, including stops in the &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Joni &amp; Friends Wheelchair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;workshop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, we gathered for a performance under the thatch-roofed gazebo by four of their residents.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Once the officials had taken their seats&lt;/span&gt;, the cameras rolled, the drums began, and their beat summoned the awaiting dancers.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The brightly colored costumes and headdresses were striking on the four figures wildly gyrating, their movements momentarily masking their very apparent disabilities.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The rhythm rocked the rafters, while the performers moved in motions of unabated passion for life – they danced!&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Then maidens will dance and be glad, young men and old as well. I will turn their mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="z-index: 3;"&gt;&lt;span style="left: 835px; width: 116px; position: absolute; top: -695px; height: 30px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"  &gt;jeremiah 31:13&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_s1026" stroked="f" wrapcoords="-188 0 -188 20829 21600 20829 21600 0 -188 0" type="#_x0000_t202"&gt; &lt;v:textbox&gt;&lt;/v:textbox&gt;&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;The Deputy Secretary&lt;/span&gt; fought to control his emotions, eyes welling with tears several times.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;When it was over, the Director explained how the four “dancers”– before coming to the Village had been at death’s door, their lives marked by depression, starvation, and self-inflicted wounds.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Claude Allen (the Deputy Secretary) responded with a very sincere “God bless you”, and in that moment there were no diplomats, no countries, no language or color barriers.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We were in a community of God service, brought together by Christ.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:path connecttype="rect" gradientshapeok="t" extrusionok="f"&gt;&lt;o:lock aspectratio="t" ext="edit"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="DSCF0058" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg" grayscale="t" blacklevel="9830f" gain="79922f" cropright="16037f" croptop="15285f"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;font-size:6;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;Luke 14:13-14&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/o:lock&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:path connecttype="rect" gradientshapeok="t" extrusionok="f"&gt;&lt;o:lock aspectratio="t" ext="edit"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="DSCF0058" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg" grayscale="t" blacklevel="9830f" gain="79922f" cropright="16037f" croptop="15285f"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;We walked back&lt;/span&gt; to where the forty residents were gathered under the shade of the trees.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Politicians and those who accompany them are familiar with navigating quickly through crowds.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;But this was no ordinary crowd.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Many have joints and knees with huge baseball-sized calluses formed from pulling the dead weight of their broken bodies through the dirt, using flip flops to protect their hands from shattered glass and rocks in the roadways.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Those not crawling have an assortment of equipment - old stools utilized for walkers, handmade crutches, canes crafted from tree branches, wheelchairs with only steel rims and ropes holding the discarded parts together.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;An obstacle course I’m sure they have never encountered before.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/o:lock&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="SMILE" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image003.jpg" blacklevel="3932f" gain="79922f"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;But amidst this array&lt;/span&gt; of the broken and beaten down was laughter. I think their joy caught the visitors off guard.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The gathered group was not a constituency to be “worked”; they were simple human beings involved with making various cloths, personal hygiene items and enjoying the company of others. The group interacted, laughed and proudly showed us what they were doing.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The typical “flesh” pressing of a politician was not so typical.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Here it involved laying a hand on a withered leg, reaching to embrace one with no arms, touching the face of a child so happy, his spastic head moved uncontrollably, and looking deeply into the features of one whose cataract covered eyes could not register the sincerity of the beholder.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt;" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Coming from the land of “Much, More and Medicaid&lt;/span&gt;” to seeing what happens to people who have &lt;b&gt;NO&lt;/b&gt; resources – no care, no advocate in the halls of the state, that for us - is traditionally believed to be there to protect us.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Here, a representative group from the United States of America saw &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Echoing Hills Village; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;the largest facility for the disabled in the ENTIRE country.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;It houses a mere 42 individuals in a nation where there are 2 million affected by disability.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;1,999,958 falling through not “cracks” in service – but great canyons and crevices of NO help at all.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Reality check – they were definitely not in Kansas anymore.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:6;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;You cannot enter into&lt;/span&gt; this kind of reality and claim “diplomatic immunity”.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;As believers in Christ, we were definitely a non-diplomatic community, providentially brought together, at this time, in this place to see how in the world our different “worlds” can help. I believe they all were moved and I pray what they encountered changed them.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;One visit, one day&lt;/span&gt; by an American representative - what can that do? Remember, one visit one day in 2001, the King’s clown came and things changed!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113623790682484667?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113623790682484667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113623790682484667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/ghana.html' title='GHANA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113634501087323296</id><published>2004-12-01T21:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T20:22:40.833-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures from My Purse</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/EDIT%20-%20Girl%20in%20Arms.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/EDIT%20-%20Girl%20in%20Arms.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0283.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/DSCF0283.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0222.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/DSCF0222.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:verdana;" &gt;Samaritan's Purse Operation Christmas Child Delivery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-family:verdana;" &gt;3,000 Gift Boxes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113634501087323296?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113634501087323296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113634501087323296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/pictures-from-my-purse.html' title='Pictures from My Purse'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113634545480278022</id><published>2004-12-01T21:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-04T20:16:19.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ISRAEL</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Beit%20Jaila%20-%20Balloon%20Diplomacy%206.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Beit%20Jaila%20-%20Balloon%20Diplomacy%206.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Blowin' in the Wind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 5:19-20&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:6;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 8pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Being an ambassador&lt;/span&gt; certainly has it’s own share of adventure! Just look at CARE EE kneeling on the streets of Beit Jaila with Palestinian children curious to know what a clown would be doing in their part of the world?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterScripture" style="margin-top: 6pt; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: verdana; text-align: justify;"&gt;“You’re familiar with the old written law, ‘Love your friend’, and its unwritten companion, ‘Hate your enemy.’ I’m challenging that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;&lt;o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="Beit Jaila - Balloon Diplomacy 6" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg" gain="74473f" blacklevel="5898f" grayscale="t" cropbottom="28696f" cropleft="12138f" cropright="20149f" croptop="12312f"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;We were certainly challenged&lt;/span&gt; in March.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;There was a bombing in Ashdod the day before we were scheduled to be in East Jerusalem at the &lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Jerusalem School&lt;/span&gt;, and in Beit Jaila at the &lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Jemima House Orphanage&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Mary McPherson, Director of the &lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Jerusalem School, &lt;/span&gt;had to make special arrangements for our transportation from the school to the orphanage, because Israeli cab drivers will not drive into East Jerusalem or Beit Jaila. Afraid that the recent terrorist attack would shut down security checkpoints, we took the back way – &lt;b&gt;through no man, woman or clown’s land&lt;/b&gt;!&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/o:lock&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, energies of prayer, for then you are working out of your true selves, your God-created selves. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 5:43-48&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;Let out on the side of the road&lt;/span&gt;, we climbed over a ridge to wait for our ride to the orphanage. Go ahead, laugh at the thought of a clown crossing over into "enemy" territory. We were quite a spectacle. Everything was fine - there were lots of Arab men standing around waiting to take people into the territory - but "WHERE WAS OUR RIDE" we stood there waiting and waiting - drawing quite a lot of attention. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterBody" style="margin-top: 8pt; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;What does a "clown" do&lt;/span&gt; in enemy territory?&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;She practices "diplomacy" blowing up balloons and handing them out to the growing number of gathering children - of course! Our transportation finally arrived - after one car stopped and asked "what are you doing standing out here in the middle of the road? Giving out balloons - give me six for my children at home!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, the answer is blowin' in the wind. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Bob Dylan &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"&gt;&lt;v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"&gt;&lt;v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;&lt;o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"&gt;&lt;v:imagedata title="Beit Jaila - Crossing point - Tom and Mary" src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Owner/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/msoclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg" gain="74473f" blacklevel="5898f" grayscale="t" cropleft="22572f" cropright="11002f" croptop="12272f"&gt;&lt;v:stroke joinstyle="miter"&gt;&lt;v:path gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"&gt;&lt;w:wrap type="tight"&gt;&lt;v:shape id="_x0000_s1026" type="#_x0000_t202" stroked="f" filled="f"&gt;&lt;span style="font-variant: small-caps;"&gt;After the performance&lt;/span&gt; – at the Jemima House, we were taken back to the crossing where we waited for the cab we called from the orphanage to arrive. The sun was setting in the West - toward safety, the people around us on the road were sensing that it could be a dangerous place for foreigners (even a clown) to be standing after dark. Several, asked if we wanted their assistance to leave the area. Mary said the only "safe" cab would be on the way soon. There we stood, in the growing dark - three Americans and a CLOWN huddled together against the brisk cold wind blowing across the mountains. An hour seemed like an eternity but our ride finally appeared and we were on our way back to safety - another adventure as special ambassador for the King completed!&lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;/w:wrap&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;/v:imagedata&gt;&lt;/o:lock&gt;&lt;/v:path&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:f&gt;&lt;/v:stroke&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="NewsletterScripture" style="margin-top: 6pt; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;In a word, what I’m saying is, GROW UP.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;You’re kingdom subjects.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Now live like it.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Live out your God-created identity.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 5:43-48 The Message&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113634545480278022?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113634545480278022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113634545480278022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/israel.html' title='ISRAEL'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113695150542190651</id><published>2004-12-01T21:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T19:51:45.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love Builds</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Jemima%20-%20New%20Building.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Jemima%20-%20New%20Building.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;… the God who builds a road right through the ocean… &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Isaiah 43:16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To those of you who would like to see Jesus here on earth, may I recommend the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666600;"&gt;Jemima House Orphanage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; in Israel? I saw Him there on my first visit in 1997 and every visit since. How? Where? In the love, patience and dedication of the founders, Ed and Hellen Volhbehr, in the commitment of the workers tirelessly serving 24 hours a day in a cramped facility. But most of all - in the songs of praise in four languages (Hebrew, Dutch, English, Arabic) from the severely disabled children abandoned and left to die by their families, thriving on the love and care of the Master. I report in 2004 He is still there, blessing the children and workers with His presence and a brand new facility, one specifically designed for serving the needs of the disabled made possible in part by an exceedingly generous donation from a friend of Sunshine After Rain Ministries. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;… I rest my feet on earth. So what kind of house will you build me?" says God. Where I can get away and relax? It's already built, and I built it." &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Acts 7:49-50&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113695150542190651?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695150542190651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695150542190651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/love-builds.html' title='Love Builds'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113695290233235141</id><published>2004-12-01T21:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T20:15:02.476-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snapshots of Our Future Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Jemima%20-%20Clown%20Coming.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/Jemima%20-%20Clown%20Coming.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/EDIT%20-%20Hair%20cut.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/EDIT%20-%20Hair%20cut.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CARE%20EE%20-%20Use%20Your%20Gifts.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/CARE%20EE%20-%20Use%20Your%20Gifts.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/1st%20and%202nd%20Grade%20-%20Group%20Wave%202.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/1st%20and%202nd%20Grade%20-%20Group%20Wave%202.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CARE%20EE%20and%20Mary.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/CARE%20EE%20and%20Mary.2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Kindergarten%20-%20Clown%20Helper%202.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/Kindergarten%20-%20Clown%20Helper%202.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113695290233235141?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695290233235141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695290233235141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/snapshots-of-our-future-home.html' title='Snapshots of Our Future Home'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113695356798432845</id><published>2004-12-01T21:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T20:44:42.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FINLAND</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/Clown%20Pamina.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mother's Day&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ephesians 3:20 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;East West Ministries International scheduled a sightseeing trip for the team to St. Petersburg after the week of orphanage outreach concluded. Unable to justify the additional expense to the ministry associated with the excursion, I planned to return to the States early, until I received an “out of the blue” telephone call while sitting home on a Sunday afternoon. A curious accent asked, “Is this Charlynn?” Thinking it was a friend playing a practical joke – I answered in my best Spanish “si, si amigo”. “WHAT?” exclaimed the voice at the other end of the line. “Who is this?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;It was my friend Paula Vanttinen calling from Helsinki, asking when I planned to return to Europe. She had recently moved, and her workplace was adjacent to an orphanage with 75 children with mental disabilities. We lost touch after 9-11 (my last visit to Finland), but she was excited to begin a new ministry and asked permission for a special “clown” visit for the children. When could I come? The mysteries of God and His timing! I told her I would be returning to Russia in three weeks. The scheduled leisure time in St. Petersburg for the team, would allow me to travel inexpensively to Helsinki for additional ministry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;After arriving in St. Petersburg, I was escorted by two Russian friends through the maze of underground railway stations, and boarded a train bound for Finland. Paula was excited to see me, but soon shared her disappointment; most of the children at the orphanage would be with extended family the day of our performance. Mother’s Day in Finland is a national holiday. Shops are closed; people are having picnics, and families are brought together to celebrate. I assured her the Father had a plan; the provision of flights, trains and translators was no mere coincidence. I was excited; I couldn’t wait to meet these six very special children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;The next day at the orphanage, CARE EE and PALMINA (Paula) told stories, dazzled with tricks and took Poloroids. Because there were only a few children and plenty of film, they became enthusiastic photographers. They laughed and giggled while snapping photos of the clowns, the teachers and their friends making a variety of silly faces. As we were leaving, the teacher pulled us aside to thank us for the visit. She pointed out one of the little boys, and said, “Today was his first day here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;With that sentence spoken, I felt the extravagance of God’s love. The length He is willing to go, the love He showers on the most unlikely and unloved. He provided a day of joy for this boy and his friends, a memory filled with laughter. A Father’s plan for a Mother’s Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#339999;"&gt;I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Jeremiah 29:11 the Message&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113695356798432845?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695356798432845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695356798432845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/finland.html' title='FINLAND'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113695330814939199</id><published>2004-12-01T21:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T20:46:35.460-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RUSSIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Time to Dance&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Anton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Anton.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Tune me in to foot-tapping songs, set these once-broken bones to dancing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;PSALM 51:8 THE MESSAGE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;EACH WEEK AT THE CENTRAL BAPTIST CHURCH in Voronezh, you will find an unusual gathering. In this group are children with Down syndrome - though some are well into adulthood, and parents who are working hard to provide in a country where there is little provision for those considered on the margins of society. They come together to encourage and support one another while the children engage in a variety of activities and crafts. Sorrow is shared, joy is found. There is music, poetry and dancing. On a blustery day in March, our team from America arrived with gifts and games to share; but we received far more than we offered.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ONE BY ONE, the children came forward with a song, with poetry, with art, with dance – showing a little fear – but no shame. They were not relying on the greatness of their efforts – but on the encouragement of their loving parents. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANTON AND HIS FATHER had a carefully rehearsed number. Anton approached the center of the room; his father placed a cape on his drooping shoulders and took his place proudly on the sidelines – giving directions, mimicking the forgotten motions, and grinning from ear to ear. The music began and Anton leaned down to take the hand of his chosen partner, placing it carefully in his own. The two returned to the center of the makeshift dance floor, and with timing orchestrated by the diligence of a faithful father, they danced with small circular turns, even an overhead twirl. There on the sidelines stood Anton’s loving father, ready to remind his son of the next move. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WHAT A PICTURE OF HEAVEN for those of us fortunate to observe. Our faithful heavenly Father stands on the sidelines of our lives, encouraging those of us willing to step out on the dance floor of our present circumstance. We are deceived into thinking we have so little to offer. But what can Picasso paint the creator of the platypus, or Mozart offer musically for the conductor of the thunderstorm’s symphony? Yet, He is watching in delight our simple obedience to the next well-orchestrated step. He stands in the wings giving us our cues through the Spirit. Shadowing the motions and moves that will bring glory to His Kingdom. He applauds us, as proud as any parent beaming with joy at the performance of his child – even one with a Down Syndrome son on a dance floor in the basement of a Baptist Church in Russia! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113695330814939199?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695330814939199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695330814939199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/russia.html' title='RUSSIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113695426785314092</id><published>2004-12-01T21:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T20:51:52.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TEXAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Ariel.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Ariel.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sounds of a New Song&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;They sang a new song before the throne… &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Revelation 14:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;On the last night of &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Joni &amp;amp; Friends Family Retreat&lt;/span&gt; the applause of heaven is heard loud and clear. A talent show is held where the participants deserve more than Grammy’s, Emmy’s or other laudable awards the world can give. They perform comedy with courage, dance with dignity and sing with sonorous joy. With the popularity of the network show &lt;span style="color:#6600cc;"&gt;American Idol,&lt;/span&gt; those in charge of the night’s entertainment decided upon our own version - &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;American Miracle&lt;/span&gt;. You see these performances are miracles. All flaws and flubs accepted as part the show and a portion of His mercy. On this stage, no one is kicked off or humiliated - every effort is celebrated. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoots and holler’s cover the sound of sniffling noses, and clapping hands offer a small reprieve from wiping back tears. Rachel, in her soft and lilting voice, wooed us with Ariel’s theme: “I want to be up where the people are”. Her father later explained how she related to the Little Mermaid, wishing she too could walk, run and dance like other children. Naomi belted out the Broadway classic &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;“Tomorrow”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; After the show, the realization this was her last night to spend with her new friends overwhelmed her. She began to sob inconsolable. CARE EE, standing close by approached her tenderly and said, “Naomi, tonight you taught us a great lesson.” Catching her breath the thirteen year old asked, “what lesson?” A clown offered a grin and began to sing &lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“the sun will come out tomorrow you’ve got to hang on till tomorrow come what may”.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Naomi smiled, wiped her face and an impromptu duet broke forth &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;“tomorrow, tomorrow, there’s always tomorrow, it’s always a day away.” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the end of the show and all of our emotions, the Myers trio came on stage. With her mother Janell holding the microphone, and her sister Lauren carrying the tune, Leslie sang “I Can Only Imagine”. When the song ended, through thunderous applause, Janell shouted out with the agreement of the entire earthly and heavenly audience, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663366;"&gt;“In Heaven there are NO wheelchairs, broken bodies, or tears – I can only imagine!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Myers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/Myers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113695426785314092?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695426785314092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695426785314092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/texas.html' title='TEXAS'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113695497033277456</id><published>2004-12-01T21:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T20:49:30.336-08:00</updated><title type='text'>KENYA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/WASTE%20SITE%20-%20Group%20of%20Kids%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/WASTE%20SITE%20-%20Group%20of%20Kids%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Face to Face&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;There's a lot of suffering to be entered into in this world—the kind of suffering Christ takes on. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Colossians 1:24 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Africa there is a saying “God is good, all the time – all the time God is good.” I like that. I come home from the journey and find myself regularly repeating the phrase. And yet, in Africa, I am confronted with images God is not good - and certainly not all the time. I see children barefoot, hungry, dirty beyond belief, with flies feeding on their open untreated wounds. God is good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stood on the edge of a hilltop overlooking the city dump. The valley so deep, the people below were hard to identify amidst the mounds of trash they sifted through. The Nakuru Relief &amp;amp; Development ministry, which brought myself and three other women of the Fellowship Bible ministry team, teaches the homeless to forage through trash for discarded food to feed their children. Perhaps it was their smallness in the immensity of the wasteland that overwhelmed me. Or maybe it was the children holding our hands, excited to have visitors in a place few outsiders dare to invade. God is good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;… I've prayed for you in particular that you not give in or give out. When you have come through the time of testing, turn to your companions and give them a fresh start. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Luke 22:31 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stood on hallowed ground. Taken to a place on earth where faith could fail, confronted with the realization those we saw from a distance, to survive merely prolongs daily suffering. Face to face with insurmountable indication of God’s absence, we were challenged by His presence. “Can you be My witness when you return from this place? Can you say God is good all the time?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stood the test and we return to you, to tell of a place in Africa where God resides in the ministry of faithful, doing what they can to help those in dire need and to teach them not only where to find food, but where to look for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;We pray that you'll live well for the Master, making Him proud of you as you work hard in His orchard. As you learn more and more how God works, you will learn how to do your work. We pray that you'll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable … &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Colossians 1:10-11&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113695497033277456?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695497033277456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695497033277456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/kenya.html' title='KENYA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113695543983520833</id><published>2004-12-01T21:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T20:57:19.836-08:00</updated><title type='text'>GO!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Team%20and%20Jones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Team%20and%20Jones.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330099;"&gt;Then He said, "Go into the world. Go everywhere and announce the Message of God's good news to one and all. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Mark 16:15 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There is no draft for this war. Not the war in Iraq, or the spiritual battle that surrounds us each day. Although I grew up in the Vietnam era, my age kept me somewhat innocent of the combat and home front conflict surrounding it. Now that both of my sons are the same age of most soldiers serving, I am no longer innocent of either combat or conflict as it approaches my home front. Let me assure you this is no pre-election outcry for either party or problem. I find myself on a different battleground, and the analogies of enemies and armies have long been referenced. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;This is no afternoon athletic contest that we'll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours. This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ephesians 6:12 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fourteen women from Fellowship Bible Church Dallas prepared six months for the mission trip to Kenya. Let me repeat, fourteen women. The combination of hormones alone could have resulted in an unpleasant boot camp. BUT, the Spirit of the Living God prevailed, not unpredictable hormones. I had reservations about being a part of a team, most of who had no prior foreign mission battlefield exposure, but I also felt the stirring of His Spirit calling me to be the combat chaplain. Each of us had specific roles to fulfill for the ministry to the laywomen in the Nakuru area. Each one of us answered His call to arms - we were soldiers at once, but we were not young!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;Be prepared. You're up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get, every weapon God has issued, so that when it's all over but the shouting you'll still be on your feet. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ephesians 6:13 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are still on our feet, we survived, we thrived together. We mingled our tears with our fellow sister soldiers in the fields of Africa. We learned how to sing a song in Kenya, and we taught how to dance with freedom rhythms! We had our eyes opened to the problems and the suffering, we remain diligent, we remain standing in the gap for we know we are still at war.&lt;br /&gt;In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep your eyes open. Keep each other's spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WE ARE PRAYING STILL AND WE ARE WINNING!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;And don't forget to pray for me. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ephesians 6:18 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/VILLAGE%20-%20ME%20-%20Give%20me%20More.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/VILLAGE%20-%20ME%20-%20Give%20me%20More.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113695543983520833?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695543983520833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695543983520833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/go.html' title='GO!'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113695586153229240</id><published>2004-12-01T20:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-10T21:04:21.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chosen - Choosing - Choice</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Rossosh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Rossosh.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999900;"&gt;You didn't choose me, remember; I chose you, and put you in the world to bear fruit, fruit that won't spoil. As fruit bearers, whatever you ask the Father in relation to Me, He gives you. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;John 14:16 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#999900;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you enjoy reading the 2004 edition of The Forecast many times. Share the adventures with your family and friends. These are your stories, and I hope you realize daily the increase in your Kingdom account balance! Together, we stand as His chosen. Sowing seeds, bearing fruit, traveling and telling others of Christ alive – His Kingdom coming soon. We fight the good fight, keep the faith, and we will finish the race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999900;"&gt;They're holding on, not because of what they think they're going to get out of it, but because they're convinced of God's grace and purpose in choosing them. &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Romans 11:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The newsletter opened with a photo, one of Michelangelo’s nonfiniti (unfinished sculptures):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#996633;"&gt;Michelangelo's theory that sculpture is an "art that takes away superfluous material." The great master saw a true sculpture as something that was already inherent in the stone, and all it needed was a skilled chisel to free it from the extraneous rock… no matter what the sculptor's intentions, it is remarkable, a symbol of the master's great art and personal views on craft as his Slaves struggle to break free of their chipped stone prisons. SOURCE: Frommer’s Tuscany &amp; Umbria, 4th Edition from the internet site &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.frommers.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#996633;"&gt;www.frommers.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look back over the year of ministry and struggle with things left undone and the things I have left to do. Next month (October) I travel to China, to visit children trapped within stone walls of orphanages. I struggle with the suffering here on earth so many must endure. I wrote the poem Chosen as a reminder of the Creator’s steady hand upon my life, chiseling away the unnecessary “superfluous”, and His intention to make each of His chosen more Christlike. We pray to reflect His strength in times of hardship, His grace in days of discomfort, His mercy in place of judgment, His love for those hard to embrace, His gentleness in the midst of chaos, His patience when the rope’s end flies out of reach, and His peace when frightened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are in need of substantial donations to cover the upcoming outreach in China, and for our year-end overhead costs. Please pray for this ministry God has given us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#999900;"&gt;So, friends, confirm God's invitation to you, His choice of you. Don't put it off; do it now. Do this, and you'll have your life on a firm footing &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1 Peter 1:10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us face the day as His chosen, choosing to live a life that will bring honor and glory to Him. Today, make the choice and make a difference - somehow to someone somewhere! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113695586153229240?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695586153229240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113695586153229240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2004/12/chosen-choosing-choice.html' title='Chosen - Choosing - Choice'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616654919201613</id><published>2003-09-01T17:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T17:49:09.743-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VOLUME 11 - 2003</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/forrest2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/forrest2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000066;"&gt;RUN!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Every God-direction is road tested.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone who run towards Him makes it.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Psalm 18:30 The&lt;/span&gt; Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;When the young Forrest Gump was being taunted and teased for his difference, inability and slowness – he tried awkwardly to run away from his tormentors.  Time had allowed his legs to grow stronger. And as he was encouraged by his “best good friend – Jenny” he ran faster – the braces that restrained him fell off.  He was RUNNING!  Like Forrest, I’ve found over time and with the encouragement of faithful friends like you, just how far and how fast I can go.  In this special Summer Edition – I hope to show you how our “race” is going.  To tell you, through words and pictures, what I’ve seen on the road: the Harvest is ripe, our ministry financial needs are great – but God is greater still!  Africa, Russia, Bolivia, and the Joni and Friends Camp for families affected by disabilities – four “races” run – two (Russia &amp; China) to go!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;Do you see what this means – all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it.  Strip down, start running – and never quit!  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Heb 12:1 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;           &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616654919201613?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616654919201613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616654919201613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/volume-11-2003.html' title='VOLUME 11 - 2003'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616675608759076</id><published>2003-09-01T17:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:01:58.206-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Running the Race with Endurance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Sunset1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 356px" height="562" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Sunset1.jpg" width="400" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Countries crossed&lt;br /&gt;Far below&lt;br /&gt;Rivers running&lt;br /&gt;Melting snow.&lt;br /&gt;Another place&lt;br /&gt;A distant land&lt;br /&gt;I commit my times&lt;br /&gt;Into Your hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To see above&lt;br /&gt;The normal fray&lt;br /&gt;Of world and flesh&lt;br /&gt;And business day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To see from&lt;br /&gt;A near heaven’s throne,&lt;br /&gt;Those lost&lt;br /&gt;And who are all alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The vision must&lt;br /&gt;Approach the ground&lt;br /&gt;The Holy, stop&lt;br /&gt;and walk around -&lt;br /&gt;Amongst the crowds&lt;br /&gt;And stuff of life.&lt;br /&gt;Ambassadors we are&lt;br /&gt;Of light&lt;br /&gt;Of love, of truth&lt;br /&gt;The narrow way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Follow me”&lt;br /&gt;All who obey. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Luke 18:22&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616675608759076?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616675608759076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616675608759076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/running-race-with-endurance.html' title='Running the Race with Endurance'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616713884066848</id><published>2003-09-01T17:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:00:08.076-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AFRICA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Villagers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Villagers.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Samaritan's Purse Operation Christmas Child&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#336666;"&gt;3,000 gift boxes delivered to orphanages &amp;amp; schools&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;To the Edge of a New Nowhere&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;When I’m far from anywhere, down to my last gasp, I call out “guide me…” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ps 61:2 The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In Texas, rural areas are referred to as “the sticks”. Growing up, when describing where our country cousins lived, suppressing laughter, we used our best southern accent, “oh, they’re from the sticks”. Until I traveled to Africa – I had never seen “the real sticks”! Places so remote, that on the journey there – your mind wonders if at the end of the road a pot of boiling liquid above burning logs awaits you - dinner is served!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began my third journey in Ghana with a Sunday meeting at two remote villages several hours from the capital city of Accra. There were no signposts and no indication of where we were going, only the ever-onward leading of the village pastor (James Tetteh). The road turned into a narrow dirt-covered path and all semblances of civilization soon disappeared. When we made the final turn into a cane field the tall stalks enveloped the truck. There was nowhere to go but forward, no turning back, no way to turn around. Just as suddenly as we were lost in the brush – the foliage ended and spread out before us was a village. The houses are built from the red earth they rise up from – one continuum “from dust you were formed”. The children ran freely, mostly naked to make the 110º heat bearable. Most were without shoes, but all wore broad smiles. So far removed from my life 20,000 miles away, surrounded by books, and collections of oddities from around the globe, it was hard to take it all in. How does this picture fit in with that life? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333399;"&gt;On the road someone asked if he could go along. “I’ll go with You wherever,” he said. Jesus was curt: “Are you ready to rough it? We’re not staying in the best of inns, you know” &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Luke 9:57-58 – The Message&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616713884066848?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616713884066848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616713884066848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/africa.html' title='AFRICA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616772339729880</id><published>2003-09-01T16:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:08:43.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Decision</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0065.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/DSCF0065.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;“I have decided to follow Jesus, no turning back, no turning back. The world behind me, the cross before me, no turning back, no turning back.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pastor James of the Rural Outreach Network drives this treacherous two-hour journey each week, tirelessly teaching the Word. Four young men he has discipled have surrendered to the ministry and are preaching to the surrounding villages reaching approximately 1600 people with the Good News. All from the vision of one man who desperately wanted to see his village saved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;“Go home and tell everything God did in you.” So he went back and preached all over town everything Jesus had done.   &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Luke 8:39&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Samaritan’s Purse Distribution Western Region&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three thousand Operation Christmas Child boxes were collected and transported by Pastor Oheny to the western coastal region. We were there to place them in the waiting hands of eager children. The distribution will “kick off” newly formed “Good News Bible Clubs” in the local public schools, as well as a discipleship program to follow up our evangelism outreach. The sight of countless hundreds of shining uniformed faces, sweating in the rising heat amazes. Over and over in my mind I think one day the “last” person will be reached – it could easily be in a place such as this. The “times of the Gentiles” will be reached and the Lord will come with a shout “Enough!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;I do not want you to be ignorant of this mystery, brothers, so that you may not be conceited: Israel has experienced a hardening in part until the full number of the Gentiles has come in. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Romans 11:25&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Orphanage Distribution – Frafrahou&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;James 1:27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday market traffic in Accra is a zoo of people, produce and goods for sale. Squalor would be a complement, and as I pass by in the comfort of an air-conditioned vehicle – in the dirt lies a mother with her breast exposed while her infant daughter sits beside her and suckles at will. Although our destination that morning was not far, we crawled along at a snail’s pace. When we arrived at the Foster Christian Home, the children, scattered across the grounds, quickly ran to the truck to touch and see the strange visitors who had come to call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;Keep on loving each other as brothers. Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Heb 13:1-2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The matron of the home took us into her office and introduced us to another visitor from Kumasi. This quiet gentleman smiled when I explained the reason behind my colorful clothes and exotic feathered hat. He asked to share a few words with us about the children:&lt;br /&gt;“Their safety is our safety. Unless the nation learns how to care for its children and those left in bad circumstance their trouble as children becomes greater troubles to them as adults – and this becomes our trouble as society fights off the social ills it should have taken care of long before. I used to stand on the outside and now I have stepped inside. It is easy to look on and hope that someone else takes care of these problems. It takes effort and courage to step inside and say, “how can I help you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stepping inside their world and outside in the heat to begin the program, we prayed for wisdom and opportunity. Pastor Oheny remarked, “See there are only 50 children this will be simple.” But no sooner were the words spoken than a bus arrived and out came 50 more children, then a van arrived – another 40, then another bus full of 50 more – an overflow of 2 deep surrounded us. The Lord multiplied our opportunity. They looked on in amazement and eagerly raised their hands in acceptance of the free gift of salvation! At the close after the gift boxes were handed out – they stood and sang to us, “We appreciate your love to us, we appreciate your kindness to us, we thank God for your faithfulness.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1 Corinthians 15:58&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616772339729880?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616772339729880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616772339729880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/decision.html' title='Decision'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616800834296094</id><published>2003-09-01T16:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:13:28.343-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RUSSIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/DSCF0003.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;East West Ministries&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;Ekaterinburg - Orphanage Outreach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;Kirov - Orphanage &amp;amp; Hospital Ministry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;A Cold North Wind&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With close to a million air miles, experience tells me there is seldom any use running to catch a flight. Flying with the efficient and punctual German airline Lufthansa has taught me something else, they are determined to stay on schedule. So when one of our team members had a delayed arrival into Frankfurt from Chicago – I offered to stay behind, wait for her plane and fly the next day to Ekaterinburg. The airlines aware of our dilemma, tried to be as helpful as possible – but offered little optimism. After all, her gate was at one end – our departure gate in a different terminal at the other end of the airport! She was glad to see me waiting and her optimism remained unabated despite my own (and the gate agent’s) lack of enthusiasm on the chance we could actually make the other flight with our team. I shook my head and reminded her 1) we were in Deutschland where efficiency reigns 2) the gate we were to leave from was on the other side of the airport and 3) accounting for the fact that the departure time included a 5 minute bus ride on the tarmac out to the plane there was NO WAY we could make it! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000066;"&gt;"You of little faith, why are you so afraid?" Then He got up and rebuked the winds &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 8:26&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;She started running anyway. “We can make it” she said, “where’s your faith?” Smugly, I replied, “THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH FAITH” - but with timetables, Germans, and my tired realistic, albeit pessimistic attitude. Out of breath, we arrived at the gate to see two of our team members standing with an airline employee. They laughed. “A north wind has blown in and delayed the flight time, we’re going to make it.” My friend turned to me and smiled. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;Even the winds and the waves obey Him! &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 8:27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616800834296094?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616800834296094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616800834296094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/russia.html' title='RUSSIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616846727178702</id><published>2003-09-01T15:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:21:07.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Workers of the World Unite</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/DSCF0010.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from His love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make My joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Phil 2:1-2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As our bus made its way across the defrosting winter snow to the first orphanage on our itinerary, I was struck by the “sameness” of the structures in Communist architecture. The same gray bricks, the same dull coloring to blend into a landscape for “workers united”. No one any better than the next, everything reduced in conformity. The city of Ekaterinburg, looks just like Kirov that looks just like Voronezh that looks just like Salekhard. And when we arrived at the orphanage the remarkable resemblance of these children to others I have seen across Russia was striking. Like seeing twins of impossible and improbable situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 1:7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While each one of the eleven trips into Russia have a certain familiarity, individually they carry the freshness of His mercy, new each day. We have shared in the sufferings of these children, entered into their world. We have carried their story back to many on the other side of the ocean, living a life far different from their own. And we have the guarantee that we share in their comfort. The comfort of the unseen Hand that tucks them in at night, and the unheard Voice that assures them of the promise - it will all be okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Now if we are children, then we are heirs- heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in His sufferings in order that we may also share in His glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Romans 8:17-18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The work in the Harvest goes on until He returns; coming alongside those in need, telling His story to them and sharing their story with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a workman who does not need to be ashamed &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Timothy 2:15&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616846727178702?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616846727178702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616846727178702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/workers-of-world-unite.html' title='Workers of the World Unite'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616869246834224</id><published>2003-09-01T15:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:24:52.470-08:00</updated><title type='text'>War and Rumors of War</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/11-Iraq%20CNN.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/11-Iraq%20CNN.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 24:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before ever leaving the United States, the team members involved in the orphanage outreach, knew that war with Iraq was a possibility while we were in Russia. Each one of us made a decision to go where God called during those few weeks in March, not knowing what that would mean for America, or Americans traveling overseas. On the day before Barbara Deatherage and I were scheduled to travel on to Kirov – the President addressed the nation and informed a concerned and waiting public that bombs were dropped in Baghdad, the war with Iraq had begun. Understand, that unlike the US, television sets are not that common in Russia. The hotel where we stayed had only one in the lobby. The news was broadcast in Russian early in the morning. Our interpreters arrived bearing the news and burdened with questions. Would we leave and go home? What was our response as Christians? We answered with prayer and diplomacy aware that many of our young friends were not believers. We also explained, God is in control – we are His servants and we have work to do until He comes. We left for the orphanage and the children awaiting our arrival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663300;"&gt;There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear… &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I Jn 4:18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the outbreak of war, Barbara’s husband was concerned for the safety of “two American women” traveling alone by train across Russia. He called her with his concerns. As she spoke to him by phone, we prayed, the group prayed, and we asked the King – “What would You have us do?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663333;"&gt;"Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent. For I am with you…” &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Acts 18:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, I heard the still small voice of my King ask me &lt;span style="color:#993300;"&gt;*“Missionary why are you here?”&lt;/span&gt; Thoughts came flooding into my heart while the tears streamed down my face. “Are you willing to never see your children again, to lay down your life for Me?” “Yes, yes, yes,” my heart replied. I am willing and prepared even to go on alone if need be. Fear of what “might” happen should never interrupt the plans that He has set before us; our times are in His hands. With praises for His protection, we both boarded the train to Kirov to fulfill the work He had for us there! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663333;"&gt;Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Prv 3:5-6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*Read “The Peace Child” by Don Richardson or request Volume 8 of the Forecast Newsletter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616869246834224?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616869246834224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616869246834224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/war-and-rumors-of-war.html' title='War and Rumors of War'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616890841997185</id><published>2003-09-01T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:28:28.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Breath of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0220.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/DSCF0220.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#66cccc;"&gt;He Himself gives all men life and breath and everything else.   &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Acts 17:25&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sixteen thousand miles is a long way to go. I’ve been thankful on more than one occasion for the ease of travel in the 20th century. I don’t have to worry like my 1st century counterparts about shipwrecks and uncomfortable caravan rides. Deciding to travel on to Kirov from Ekaterinburg was a logical choice. After all, we (Barbara and I) would be able to minister to the children we visited the previous October, as well as spending time with members of the Kirov Bible Church. We had a plan and God has His. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As it turned out – it wasn’t one we could begin to imagine. We arrived in Kirov and learned the pastor’s wife had been hospitalized in Sovetsk (2 hours away). The children from one of the orphanages we wanted to visit were on holiday. We prayed and listened, watched and waited, eager to see what He was up to. We enjoyed our time visiting the Sovetsk hospital and were given the opportunity to perform for the children there (the first time outsiders have come and entertained). We used every opportunity we were given, but… did we miss something, was there something more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 5 days in Kirov, we both developed serious upper respiratory infections. We were sick, tired, used and utilized, but more than ready to catch the train and go home! One hour before leaving for the train station, the associate pastor came and said “we need $500 for the hospital, now.” Barbara and I were surprised, curious and wondering how we could get the cash in one hour, AND what was it for anyway? “Lord, if this should happen – only YOU can make it happen.” we prayed and left it in His hands. After all, it would take a miracle to get the money in an hour. ATM machines are NOT on every street corner – and none dispense US dollars. I had my debit card but there is a limit on how much can be withdrawn in one day. We arrived at the bank minutes AFTER they closed – but they were willing to let us come in and try and withdraw the funds. After 30 minutes of computerized dial ups, and phone calls to Moscow to complete the transaction – they handed us the cash. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#66cccc;"&gt;In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Job 12:10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We didn’t learn until a week after our return home, what the money and the immediacy were for. The machine supplying oxygen exploded leaving the hospital with only two emergency tanks. The hospital went to the city for funds to repair it – but they were told to wait. Only a little boy could not wait. Once the two tanks were empty he would die. Although our plans didn’t work out, and we couldn’t see His plan, we had no doubt we were where we were supposed to be. No fear, and no war stood in our way or HIS! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#66cccc;"&gt;Let everything that has breath praise the LORD. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 150:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616890841997185?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616890841997185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616890841997185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/breath-of-life.html' title='Breath of Life'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616917780652223</id><published>2003-09-01T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:32:57.806-08:00</updated><title type='text'>BOLIVIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/11-%20Jack%203.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/11-%20Jack%203.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Friends of the Disabled Latin America&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;Wheelchair Distribution&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;It's NOT "About Schmidt"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Sell your possessions and give to the poor... For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.   &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Luke 12:33-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In his Oscar nominated performance, Jack Nicholson portrays Warren Schmidt, a man whose life is in crisis. Trying desperately to establish meaning – he sponsors a poor child he sees on a late night television appeal for funds.  Perhaps he can make a difference to somebody, somewhere.  He receives a package of information and is encouraged to write to his child.  Depressed, he writes only about his problems.  His correspondences are all “About Schmidt”; how bad his life is going and how worthless he feels. In other parts of the world, children need a good meal, encouragement in their education, love, and above all Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Mark 14:7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All the Schmidt’s in America can’t change the world – only Jesus can!  Our first ministry activity in Bolivia was at a Compassion International facility. A place where children are sponsored and receive a hot meal, help with schoolwork, and hear the Good News daily. We saw over 200 children that day.  Many smiles, much laughter but also a few tears.  I took one little girl on my lap and held her trying to impart some comfort and special recognition “you are dearly loved.  You have not been forgotten.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3333ff;"&gt;Your prayers and gifts to the poor have come up as a memorial offering before God.      &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;  Acts 10:4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may not sponsor a child in a foreign land, but I hope you don’t question too often whether your life has value and if you are doing anything to make a difference in someone else’s life.  You do make a difference!  You did that day.  You didn’t send an inappropriate letter all about you – you sent a person, who was glad to be your representative and to show the children – it’s all about HIM!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616917780652223?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616917780652223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616917780652223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/bolivia.html' title='BOLIVIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616946446235114</id><published>2003-09-01T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:37:44.466-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Little Apple Tree Revisited</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Group%20praying.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Group%20praying.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"&gt;Delight yourself in the LORD and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in Him and He will do this. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 37:4-5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t count how many times I have told the story of the “Little Apple Tree”. Though I can tell you, I have told the story in every country I’ve visited over the last seven years. Enlisting audience participation, with hats and gloves equipped with hanging stars, uproarious laughter always follows. It’s my favorite story to tell because it gives an important lesson I need reminding of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6666;"&gt;The little apple tree did not want to be an apple tree. It was the only one of its kind in the forest of big oaks trees. Every day the little apple tree looked up and saw the branches of the oak trees reaching high into the heavens. At night when the sky was darkest the little apple tree would look to the big oak trees and see their branches filled with stars. How envious of their beauty, size and strength was the little apple tree. So the little apple tree prayed, “Dear Lord, can I please be like the big oak trees? Big, strong, tall and important with stars in my branches?” The Lord said, “Be patient.” The seasons changed through spring (blossoms) and summer (apples) but the little tree was still looking at the stars. The story ends when the apple tree shakes in fear of the Lord and an apple falls from the tree and breaks open. (horizontally when cut, the apple seeds inside form a five pointed star). The Lord said, “What do you see?” In amazement, the little apple tree said, “I see stars! I have stars in my branches!” “You see little apple tree, what your heart desired I had hidden inside you all along. I made you exactly who I wanted you to be.” From that day on the little apple tree grew proudly amidst the forest of big oak trees hiding its stars of the heart! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"&gt;I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; …All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ps 139:13-16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story is appropriate for children of all ages, in all cultures, who long and pray for a different life than the one they know. And I confess, that I have looked around at the things that I don’t have, at the lives of others and wonder “why” I couldn’t be like… the big oak trees around me? With the retelling of the story, countless times, in numerous countries, I still smile with the audience – knowing He knows what my heart desires, and I am growing in to the fullness of His likeness in me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;For those God foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of His Son. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Romans 8:29&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616946446235114?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616946446235114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616946446235114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/little-apple-tree-revisited.html' title='The Little Apple Tree Revisited'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617007297380307</id><published>2003-09-01T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:47:52.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'>HEAVEN</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0104.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/DSCF0104.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/DSCF0106.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/200/DSCF0106.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#003333;"&gt;One week in July located in Texas at the Joni &amp; Friends Family Retreat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#003333;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And Friends&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;Instead, I have called you friends &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;John 15:15&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps you’ve tired of me telling you year after year how amazing the Joni &amp;amp; Friends Family Retreat is. It’s the closest thing to heaven here on earth there is. I’m still as enchanted with it today as I was the first time I went five years ago. Something special happens the week of Family Retreat. From the time the first child arrives and is greeted enthusiastically with hoots, hollers and a menagerie of clowns - until the last goodbye. The Spirit of the God who is love descends. Laughter is loud, joy is deep, tears are shed and shared, and the burden seems lighter and the yoke easier for the time we spend in the company of friends and the watchful care of His angels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 91:11-12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many express the feeling as something akin to a family reunion. A time to catch up with what God has done the past year, and a time to meet new family members! To make them feel welcome, accepted, treasured and dearly loved by the King of all Creation. One family commented on the welcome to their able-bodied son, “If we have to leave today, we have still had the best day of our lives!” It doesn’t get much better than that. To show and shower love is also to stand - under the shower of His love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;"You heavens above, rain down righteousness; let the clouds shower it down. Let the earth open wide, let salvation spring up, let righteousness grow with it; I, the LORD, have created it. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 45:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Children that have come for years, show newcomers the “ropes” (the horse back rides, the hayless hay ride, the petting zoo). That’s what 6-timer Jennifer Simpson did for her new friend Lauren McMillan. Fearful of riding the horse, Jennifer went first (both girls are quadriplegics on ventilators). When the specially trained “cowboys” were lifting Lauren up on the horse, Jennifer said “It’s okay, it’s fun”. And though tears came first, by the time Lauren rounded the corner back toward her parents, she was wearing a smile no MasterCard could buy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;The God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Cor 1:4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617007297380307?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617007297380307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617007297380307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/heaven.html' title='HEAVEN'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616968101623982</id><published>2003-09-01T14:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:41:21.020-08:00</updated><title type='text'>LOL (little ole lady)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Mary%20Jane.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Mary%20Jane.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc6600;"&gt;You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Acts 1:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#cc6600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I met Mary Jane Ponten, two years ago on a wheelchair distribution in Ghana and served alongside her once again in Cuba last year.  At 72 years old, her presence on any team cuts out a great deal of potential complaining. And given the fact that she was born with cerebral palsy, has made her an inspiration to countless thousands around the world!  When she invited me to go to Bolivia – I jumped at the chance.  Our days together were great Harvest times.  With her skills and ministry focus on training Pastors and churches to see people with disability as a viable part of the Body of Christ, and my ministry of sharing joy with underprivileged children and orphans – we were quite a force in a foreign land.  Together we visited public and private schools, the Compassion International center, as well as the government sponsored Center for Cerebral Palsy (CP) and the Center for Rheumatoid Arthritis.  We saw over 1500 children – with well over 300 responses to the Gospel among them.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc6600;"&gt;He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant - not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.    &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 3:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the Center for CP children she met with parents to encourage them, and to say, “God is bigger than the illness and inability you see in your children.” One mother approached her at the end of the meeting to say that she had prayed for a child.  She was so happy when she found out she was pregnant she dedicated the life of her child to the Lord.  She was heartsick when her son was born with CP, how could the Lord use such a broken body?  Through tears and with a broad smile she thanked Mary Jane and said” tonight I saw how big our God is!  He CAN use my son, just as He has used you all over the world.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shared joy, and each night we drowned ourselves in laughter spurred on by exhaustion and finishing a good day’s Kingdom work.  I heard her testimony again and again, told with a fresh spirit each time.  The last time she spoke, she told the group of women gathered her life story; how at twelve she felt the call to be a missionary. Of course she was discouraged - after all she was handicapped.  Her crippling disease had stolen that hope and desire – according to the world.  Then tears streamed down her face as she recounted how many countries she has been in – as a missionary. Exclaiming, “I was told I couldn’t be a missionary because I was disabled, but now I am a missionary BECAUSE I am disabled!” There was a standing ovation for her that day – on earth – as I know there was in heaven!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc6600;"&gt;Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 6:10-11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616968101623982?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616968101623982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616968101623982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/lol-little-ole-lady.html' title='LOL (little ole lady)'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113617051480464249</id><published>2003-09-01T13:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T18:56:31.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking Forward</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ_JEMIM.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330033;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="213" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/CJ_JEMIM.jpg" width="211" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330033;"&gt;But in keeping with His promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness. So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with Him. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Peter 3:13-14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear friends, if we truly have any hope at all it is in what lies ahead for us. I’m often asked the same question “how can you see all the sickness, hardship and sadness you see and not lose heart in the goodness of God” I answer with the same resounding conviction I have held on to for seven years of ministry, “This life is NOT all there is! There is a life to come, the life that we were created for - ETERNITY.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330033;"&gt;Instead, they were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared a city for them. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hebrews 11:16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a personal note, one of the most important things I feel God has entrusted to me - is to see His love and to see Him in every situation… &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#663366;"&gt;even in the outstretched hand of a poverty-stricken African mother holding her infant&lt;br /&gt;even on the faces of thousands of Russian orphans with no future&lt;br /&gt;even when terrorist acts and war threaten the world&lt;br /&gt;even in a small hospital that has no money to fix life-giving equipment&lt;br /&gt;even in Bolivian where wheelchairs are unaffordable&lt;br /&gt;even in broken bodies of children with disabilities&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Oswald Chambers writes in his commentary on Job “A man up against things as they are feels that he has lost God, while in reality he has come face to face with Him…. The Bible reveals that God has taken the responsibility for these things, and that Jesus Christ has bridged the gap which sin made between God and man…” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let us continue to give Him praise. He is worthy. His ways are not our ways; His thoughts are not our thoughts. And yet, He asks us to join where He is at work in the world. To meet Him face to face. The Harvest is ripe, the workers are few and in need. Remember His love. Acknowledge He is Almighty.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113617051480464249?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617051480464249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113617051480464249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2003/09/looking-forward.html' title='Looking Forward'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615512732106977</id><published>2002-09-01T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:38:47.323-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VOLUME 10 - 2002</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/10-Earth.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/10-Earth.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ALIEN&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up far from home and the comfort of my own bed. Where am I? If I am hot – probably Africa or Cuba, if I am cold most likely Russia. And if I am sleeping in the middle of the day, I am in China, where afternoon naps are a welcome part of the culture to a jet-lagged and weary traveler. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am a stranger in strange lands, an alien constantly adjusting to time zones, climates, and culinary oddities that keep my mouth quiet, my stomach asking, and my heart praying for grace to eat what is put on my plate. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In 2002, the Lord showed Himself in a myriad of ways, diverse as the places and faces of the countries I found myself traveling. Others ask me, “How do you do it?” I answer, “through Him of course” and because of your faithful support and prayers. And as we have gone this message has been preached: &lt;em&gt;The kingdom of heaven is near!&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 10:7&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615512732106977?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615512732106977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615512732106977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/volume-10-2002.html' title='VOLUME 10 - 2002'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615617141455711</id><published>2002-09-01T09:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:56:11.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AFRICA</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Island%208.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Island%208.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Samaritan's Purse Operation Christmas Child&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wheels to the World&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663333;"&gt;3,000 gift boxes to orphanages &amp; hospitals&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663333;"&gt;120 wheelchairs in Cape Coast region&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Beyond Nowhere&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666600;"&gt;By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place … obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hebrews 11:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have to know where you’re going to arrive at the Village of Hope Orphanage. This is not “the middle of nowhere”; this is a hundred miles beyond nowhere! The facility houses 125 orphans (most lost parents to AIDS) in the Central Coast Region of Ghana. Our team of 3 Americans, 2 local missionaries, and 7 African church workers and pastors, drove the coastal route passing through suburbs, slums, and the mayhem of the marketplace. The sight of uncountable impoverished masses, crowded in stalls at the open-air bazaar, buying and selling their wares, is hard to describe. Commerce reigned amidst trash, raw sewage, stagnant water and stench. Another day’s existence bargained for, exchanged and secured - this day’s daily “bread”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666600;"&gt;He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 40:1-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our uneasiness rose with the dust around our van. We turned off the main road onto a dirt path, following the last sign leading to the &lt;strong&gt;Village of Hope&lt;/strong&gt; and the children awaiting our arrival.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Several wrong turns later, we reached our destination.  The orphanage is a complex of 5 housing units on several parched acres of land.  The Director was eager to give us a tour of the facility showing us living conditions of the children.  Each “house” was arranged comfortably as a family-style unit with living and dining areas, and sleeping quarters neatly decorated with curtains, pictures and other semblances of normal family life and childhood.  Cardboard signs were placed in the hallways for furniture and a future yet unseen.  “Computer Lab” read one, “Library” read another. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666600;"&gt;But the needy will not always be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted perish.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 9:18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The program began with songs of praise and worship, the children singing with enthusiasm and joy.  Then the Director led them in a chorus that sounded written just for them: &lt;em&gt;“When I have lost my mother, when I have lost my father, when I have lost it all, I still have Jesus”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666600;"&gt;From the lips of children and infants You have ordained praise.   &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 8:2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many Christians sitting in pews on the other side of the ocean, understand such loss and yet such gain? Fighting back tears, we finished the program and distributed the gifts. But there was no question that the gifts we shared with the children that day paled in comparison to the one they sang of.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666600;"&gt;Although I am less than the least of all God's people, this grace was given me: to preach … the unsearchable riches of Christ.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Ephesians 3:7-8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615617141455711?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615617141455711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615617141455711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/africa.html' title='AFRICA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615574138956099</id><published>2002-09-01T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:49:01.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reasons Why</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/02-2BOYS.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/02-2BOYS.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have counted stars in Cuba&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seen the sunset on the beach&lt;br /&gt;At the shores of western Ghana&lt;br /&gt;Places that seem so out of reach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I have walked the Forbidden City&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stood and marveled in Red Square&lt;br /&gt;You’ve been a faithful Travel Guide&lt;br /&gt;Gone with me everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yet I have seen the children suffer&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard the mother’s cry&lt;br /&gt;And too often Lord I ask You&lt;br /&gt;“Why, why, why?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Why are some born into privilege&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And some abandoned in the road&lt;br /&gt;Some grow strong and healthy&lt;br /&gt;Yet others carry heavy loads?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Africa, China, Cuba&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And former Soviet Lands&lt;br /&gt;You are sending forth Your servant&lt;br /&gt;So I can be Your hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I will trust You in Africa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Though a child’s wounds crawl with flies&lt;br /&gt;When hunger swells their bellies&lt;br /&gt;When questions fill their eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I will trust You in China&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where Great Walls stand against the Word.&lt;br /&gt;When tears run down an orphans face&lt;br /&gt;The Good News yet unheard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I will trust You in Russia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With 600,000 souls&lt;br /&gt;Forgotten in the orphan homes&lt;br /&gt;For them I will be bold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I will trust You in Cuba&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the things I don’t understand&lt;br /&gt;Politics and embargoes&lt;br /&gt;And such suffering in the land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I will trust You, I will trust You&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because it is required&lt;br /&gt;For faith is built on Hope unseen&lt;br /&gt;Eternal treasure, Your desire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615574138956099?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615574138956099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615574138956099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/reasons-why.html' title='Reasons Why'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615641803143704</id><published>2002-09-01T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T15:18:55.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jaded</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/02-VILL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/02-VILL.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/02-SMILE.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc9933;"&gt;As it is written: "He has scattered abroad His gifts to the poor; His righteousness endures forever." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Cor 9:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each day the gift boxes were handed out into the hundreds of waiting arms of village children, orphans and patients at the Accra Children’s Hospital. The brightly wrapped Christmas packages were opened with uncontainable happiness and obvious joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc9933;"&gt;Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift! &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 9:15&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pastor from one of the first distribution sites came to the home of Alan and Patsy Fulton (our mission coordinators) with a report to share about the children of the village. “You should hear the laughter, see the smiles on their faces, why, they haven’t been able to sleep for two days marveling at the wonderful gifts contained in the boxes. They can’t believe it is all for them. They are too happy for words to describe!” As I listened to the pastor’s comments, I felt the Lord ask me, “What gift would produce that reaction in you?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc9933;"&gt;For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1 Timothy 1:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a believer, quantitatively committed to following the Lord and serving Him faithfully, but I ask myself, “why isn’t the knowledge of the free gift of salvation – of His bountiful love, making me sleepless at night with the wonder of it being all for me?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc9933;"&gt;The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Galatians 5:6&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The memory of their smiles, as they opened boxes filled with things they have never seen (like an Etch-a-Sketch) or could never afford (like a toothbrush) will always stay with me. But the lesson I learned through His grace, about the abundance of the gift I have been given, will last much longer. I am left with a heart filled with thanksgiving and far more than joy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615641803143704?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615641803143704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615641803143704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/jaded.html' title='Jaded'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615692455436799</id><published>2002-09-01T09:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T15:08:44.560-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Woman and the Well</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Water%20Projects%20022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Water%20Projects%20022.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000066;"&gt;"Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat … without money and without cost. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 55:1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t understand the timing of the Lord. While I have learned to trust Him with my schedule, there are still financial provisions, time constraints, too many places to go, too many people to see that leave me full of questions with no answers! He makes me laugh with His sense of humor about my “itinerary” and He grows my faith with His timing of where and when I go – into the “wild blue yonder”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1999, after my first Wheels to the World trip to Romania, I spoke to the national director of the distribution and said, “can I please go on EVERY trip to deliver wheelchairs?” He laughed at my enthusiasm, and replied “well, I guess you will be with us in Ghana in March”. I was thrilled to be a small part, seeing how the gift of a wheelchair made such an immediate life-changing impact on lives. In January of 2000 I eagerly went to the health department, rolled up my sleeves and took all the necessary shots required for Africa. Yellow fever, cholera, hepatitis – bring on the vaccinations, I am ready to go! But the Lord had another plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000066;"&gt;In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Prov 16:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not too long after the soreness in my arm wore off I received a call from the national office of Joni and Friends regarding the upcoming distribution in Ghana. The voice on the other end of the line said, “our team is fully staffed, and we just don’t see how a clown will fit into the program established there”. I sighed heavily, but knew somehow, someway, someday the Lord would fulfill my desire. I was busy throughout the year traveling to new places and old (Bosnia, Siberia, Russia, Israel) and rested knowing the Lord was in full charge of my goings out and comings in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#000066;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You know when I sit and when I rise; You perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ps 139:1-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In January 2001, I received a strange invitation on my voice mail. Someone I met in Israel several years before called to say “there is a trip to Ghana with Samaritan’s Purse next month, and it sounds like it might be something you’d be interested in – here is the number to call…” I did not pass go, I did not collect $200 dollars, I did not put the receiver down – I made the call! (see 2001 Volume 9 Issue of the Forecast) When I heard the requirements and specifics of the trip, I knew without a doubt the Lord was opening a door to Ghana and I was not only ready to step through it, I was inoculated for it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000066;"&gt;Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!" &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 6:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;By the time my second trip for Samaritan’s Purse in February of 2002 came around I decided to check when Wheels for the World would be in Ghana. Seeing it would coincide with my time there, I called the national office of Joni &amp;amp; Friends Ministries to offer my services. With my prior experience in Africa, the program facilitator suggested I contact William Agbetti, the director of Echoing Hills, who heads the distribution of wheelchairs out of Accra. After exchanging several emails, with explanations of what CARE EE can do, has done, is willing to do, he replied “sounds like a distribution with no clown is no fun!” &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord was orchestrating one of His great mysteries between 2001 and 2002. The in-country missionaries (Alan and Patsy Fulton) who organized the Samaritan’s Purse distribution were primarily in Africa to dig wells. The night before we drove out to meet William, Alan received an email from his parent organization in the US (Living Waters) stating, “We have money for well projects, as much as you need, just submit the project and the money is available”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000066;"&gt;“See if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Malachi 3:10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driving the next morning, Alan wondered as we approached Echoing Hills, how the facility got the water needed for the 30 mentally challenged and disabled residents and the substantial support staff who care for them daily. Seeing the location of the compound situated at the bottom of a valley he said, “This looks like a good place to dig a well.” After the initial introductions were made, Alan asked one of the most important questions in Africa, “Where does your water come from?” William explained the cost of a digging a well on the grounds was so high, they were forced to pay a premium price to have water brought in twice a week by truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000066;"&gt;But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: … The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Peter 3:8-9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the conversation progressed, William’s eyes filled with tears realizing how the Lord had arranged the paths of a Texas clown, two transplanted well drillers from Odessa, and an African serving the disabled in Ghana! We all praised God for the miracles in His providence and timing. If I had gone to Africa in 2000 (my original desire), I never would have met two missionaries who happened to be handling the Samaritan’s Purse distributions aside from their well drilling projects. And if I hadn’t met them, Echoing Hills would not have water freely flowing from the two wells today funded by Living Waters. I learned once again sometimes the Lord’s small “not right now” answers lead to BIG miracles in parched lands and desert times!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000066;"&gt;For in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 35:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615692455436799?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615692455436799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615692455436799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/woman-and-well.html' title='The Woman and the Well'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615743906094455</id><published>2002-09-01T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T15:17:19.063-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CUBA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CARE%20EE%20Wave.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/CARE%20EE%20Wave.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Wheels to the World&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;April - 175 wheelchairs in Havana&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;November - 267 wheelchairs Havana &amp; Ciego de Avila&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Questions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Yes and yes, are the answers to the first two questions I hear when I tell people I have been to Cuba twice in the past year. Yes, it IS illegal for Americans to travel to Cuba (unless you have a letter of permission from the US Treasury Department for humanitarian relief efforts) and yes, I did carry back the allowed amount (by above) of Cuban cigars. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five months before my birth the last revolution in Cuba succeeded, and Fidel Castro became the leader of this small island nation.  The first Wheels to the World wheelchair distribution in April of 2002 occurred on the anniversary of that victory, the last in November, on the 40th anniversary of the Cuban missile crisis.  And what are my impressions of a country and political climate 43 years in the making?  Aside from the breathtaking tropical scenery, one of the first things noticed (especially if you’re a guy) is the cars.  In 1957 more Cadillacs were purchased per capita in Havana than any other city in the world.  Even today, probably one out of every ten cars seen in Havana is American made (from the 1940’s and 1950’s). American manufacturing integrity or Cuban ingenuity has kept these gems of a bygone era running for 50 and 60 years, with NO American imports, auto parts, or classic car collector’s expertise and enthusiasm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, tourists forget when they board a plane for foreign destinations, the conveniences and comforts of home don’t pack as easily into their suitcase as the “don’t leave home without it” toilet paper.  Phones don’t work, bathrooms leave a lot to be desired, and a bureaucracy that can’t be explained rules each day’s timetable. Bringing wheelchairs into a country under US embargo made us very aware of a lack of control over our schedule, regardless of the Passport we carried, or the conveniences we packed.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615743906094455?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615743906094455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615743906094455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/cuba.html' title='CUBA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615815111927485</id><published>2002-09-01T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T15:29:15.236-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Toto, we are not in Kansas"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/4-02-ANA.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/4-02-ANA.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In general, the people, even the Communist officials, were not openly hostile. But they definitely had their way of letting us know (wearing T-shirts emblazoned with political slogans) we were not in Kansas, USA – we WERE in Cuba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;James 1:2-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both the April and November distributions faced trials and tests of patience, as the wheelchairs were held in port by the customs officials days after the scheduled release. We were frustrated. Couldn’t the powers that be see and understand? It was their people suffering. Bussed 12 to 14 hours into Havana they sat waiting - patiently, hopefully, helplessly, for the wheelchair they could never afford. The therapists invented new ways to accomplish what they had come to do. They made medical notes and took pictures of those waiting so that when the chairs did arrive, they were able to make fittings based on the information gathered. In a country where medical and social services are free, yet imprisoned by economic embargoes and political upheavals, equipment (like a wheelchair) is given to those with the greatest chance of becoming productive members of the society. To the great sadness of parents, if a child’s disability or mental capacity is diagnosed severe enough, little is done in the way of therapy or treatment. In our land of opportunity, hope is around every corner; in Cuba it is 90 miles away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Romans 8:24-25&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting is never easy and Americans are probably the worst “wait-ers” in the world. Why do you think we invented microwaves? But in the waiting, God’s great work goes on. Without the wheelchairs, evangelism took center stage. The greatest gift - the Bible - was the only gift some would receive because of the bureaucracy. Even in our frustration, we saw God’s hand at work as the customs official and the truck drivers asked “what is this work you are doing?” and took the Bibles offered to them at the end of the day. One customs official even stood in as translator for a team member while she was explaining the Good News we had come to share. The Director and I laughed thinking, just perhaps, the two day hold-up of chairs was really the Lord orchestrating this man’s work schedule to be available for “such a time as this”.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"&gt;As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 55:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had many questions about Cuba before I arrived. Most of them remain unanswered. I returned and read more of Cuban history and the complicated relationship with its big neighbor to the north. I didn’t understand before and even now, after two trips and hours of study, I understand less. There are no simple solutions for such complex problems. I remember Abraham, who questioned God about problems in the midst of His promises. The Lord offered him a visual example to strengthen his faltering faith:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;He&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; took him outside and said, "Look up at the heavens and count the stars- if indeed you can count them." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Genesis 15:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our God is faithful yesterday, today and tomorrow. He offers each of us examples to strengthen our faith in times of doubt. Let me share with you a few of the uncountable “stars” in Cuba He faithfully showed me. They shine bright and deep in the heart of this Texan:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;God’s Gift:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Before I left for Cuba in April I read articles on what issues faced the Cuban church. I spoke with the Pastor after arriving and asked him personally of the persecution. He immediately said, “There is no persecution in Cuba!” I felt as though I had crossed an invisible line in faith etiquette, or perhaps someone was listening. Startled by his reaction and response I continued, “But what about Christians losing their jobs because of their faith? What about the arrests?” He replied, “This? This is not persecution; this is God’s gift to the Cuban church. Before the revolution my parents were well off and we had few hardships. When the revolution came, I was arrested and sent to the labor camp. I was next to murderers and thieves. I had no idea of what their life was like until I worked alongside them in the sugar cane fields. Who, more than a murderer or thief needs to know the love of our Lord? How would they hear it, if God had not given me this gift?”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Under Cover Cubism:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; On my first trip I left one of the interpreters an “EvangeCube” (an unfolding cube containing the entire Gospel message). She told me with great enthusiasm on my return in November – that the cube had gone “undercover”. Her husband (a doctor) carries it in his pocket at the hospital. As he examines his patients, they often inquire about the “lump” in his pocket. He brings it out and shares the whole message of hope in Christ to all who ask.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Unbelievable Provision:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; On the first day of our arrival (before the chairs were released) the coordinator was asked if a chair could be fitted for a triple amputee war hero, who lost both legs and his arm in the battlefield (Bay of Pigs). Knowing this takes a very special type chair (a “hemi-chair” that can be used with only one arm) she sadly replied, “Probably not, those wheelchairs are rare and very seldom donated.” The team members (participants of numerous distributions worldwide, and one who actually heads the collection for a multi-state area) all concurred they’d never seen this type of chair donated. There was great joy when the shipment of wheelchairs was finally released from customs – but there were tears of unbelievable amazement as the “hemi-chair” was unpacked from the crate!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Interpreting Angels:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Our team had the privilege of visiting with some of the recipients of wheelchairs in the prior distribution. At one point during the meeting we needed a translator to give therapy instructions to the parents of a young boy with cerebral palsy. Just as the frustration with charades and hand signals was heightening, a man walked up and joined in the conversation, easily interpreting from English to Spanish and back from Spanish to English. After the thank-yous, the therapist asked his name. “Jose Angel” he smiled in reply. “So you’re an Angel?” she asked. “Well something like that” and with a final handshake and grin he was gone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Feliz Navidad:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; The Director and I traveled 4 days before the team to attend a conference for Christians with disabilities. One of the presenters was a former Catholic Nun who now creates nativities as part of her ministry. The new generation of Cuba, she explained, has no background of the Christmas story, and having a nativity displayed is a way to bring the message. The whole Gospel story is there. As we prepared to leave for Havana this kind woman made a special presentation to the “two ladies with such love in their hearts to work for the disabled.” She handed us both boxes filled with 50 hand-painted statuettes. I was overcome by the honor she had shown us, and overwhelmed by the priceless gift she shared - out of her poverty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;You helped make the vision possible. Your financial support and prayers light the way in times of questions and places of darkness. I hope these few “stars” remain shining brightly in your memory and cause remembrance of all that only God is big enough to answer and accomplish!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615815111927485?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615815111927485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615815111927485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/toto-we-are-not-in-kansas.html' title='&quot;Toto, we are not in Kansas&quot;'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616035868951885</id><published>2002-09-01T09:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T16:05:58.690-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TEXAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Lori.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Lori.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Camp Allen&lt;br /&gt;Joni &amp; Friends&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Over 75 families ministered to&lt;br /&gt;100+ Short Term Missionaires&lt;br /&gt;Clowns Clowns Clowns&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us… For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that His life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.       &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; 2 Corinthians 4:7-12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is not much to be added to Paul’s words. And since it’s said, “a picture paints a thousand words” I could be counted as being verbose if I did write much more about the smiling photo above of Joni Erickson Tada with camper Lori Cross.  But I do want to share a little with you about my special friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The June Family Retreat was Lori’s first year at Camp, and from day one, she was having a great time with friends new and old.  She knew CARE EE from the Special Delivery program, where she and her class from Prince of Peace came to visit the patients at Our Children’s House (long-term care facility of Baylor Hospital).  She smiled often and Camp added to her bank account of grins.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;"I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.   &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 18:3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family Retreat gives parents and their children an opportunity to be just that.  No labels apply, no expectations, nothing but a sincere effort on the part of the many volunteers to make it a time of rest, joy, and fun, fun, fun! It is a little like heaven; people seeing and acting with a Kingdom perspective. One day we will all have perfect hearts, perfect bodies, and perfect minds. On October 22, less than six months after camp Lori stepped through the Gates into the arms of her awaiting King, and smiling, He gave Lori her perfection. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff6600;"&gt;Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.    &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 116:15&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616035868951885?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616035868951885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616035868951885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/texas.html' title='TEXAS'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615894754909389</id><published>2002-09-01T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T15:45:18.043-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RUSSIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Team%20photo%20from%20web.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="363" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Team%20photo%20from%20web.0.jpg" width="392" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;East West Ministries&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Construction Project&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;Ministry to 450 children in 3 orphanages&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#993399;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Snack Food&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;All the believers were together and had everything in common. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Acts 2:44&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A pleasant part of any new adventure is the camaraderie formed in shared experience. From Madagascar to Moscow, those we share adventure with hold a special place in our hearts. Veterans offer advice to newcomers and we laugh and cry together, on our way in the journey. We arrived in Moscow, all fourteen of us, with the usual two thousand pounds of allotted luggage packed with humanitarian relief and American necessities of travel (blow dryers, toilet paper and snacks).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we boarded the train, we were quite a sight. Easily spotted by one of the interpreters (Zhenya) making his way back to Kirov from a business trip in Moscow. He was eager to join with us and experience the fun of fellowship in the happily crowded train compartments. Zhenya made a comment when he saw all of our “snack food” crowding the train table. Piled high with candy, peanuts, chicken flavored chips, soda pop in a variety of flavors, diet, caffeine free, juices of mixed fruit, cherry, orange – anything, ANYTHING one of us might think we would hunger for at some point in our journey. Are we so afraid of being hungry for 30 minutes that we carry peanuts 14,000 miles to satiate an appetite we might develop on our way to do the Lord’s work? His words rang a very loud, poignant truth about our “cultural” differences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;These were His instructions: "Take nothing for the journey except a staff -no bread, no bag, no money in your belts. Wear sandals but not an extra tunic. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Mark 6:8-9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus sent His disciples out two by two and specifically told them not to take anything with them but the coat on their back and their shoes. Their reliance was to be on Him – their focus traveling light. And here we travel with good intent thousands of miles unwilling to hunger for the few minutes in comradeship with our fellow brethren who live on far less, and concern themselves with less than their American counterparts - with our bubble gum and peanuts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Have we developed a fat and fat-free society living on a religion that we can take small bite-size morsels out of the bigger more lasting?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc66cc;"&gt;I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready. You are still worldly. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1 Corinthians 3:2-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bible has many illustrations of those who craved more and the result: The Israelites in the wilderness could only gather manna for the day’s needs. Any more and it rotted in their tents. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “Don’t worry about what you will eat or what you will drink.” In our culture to provide more, have more, never having want for anything, we have forgotten the basic “give us this day our daily bread.” Jesus said nothing about “be sure to bring snacks.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc33cc;"&gt;So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or 'What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 6:31-34&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My prayer for the week of ministry we had in Kirov was to introduce the children to the Bread of Life, to teach them about the Living Water, and in the end to hear the exclamation and invitation of our King, “Well, done my faithful servant. Come and enjoy the feast of the Master!”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615894754909389?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615894754909389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615894754909389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/russia.html' title='RUSSIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615928818190039</id><published>2002-09-01T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T12:46:46.496-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dobre Outra (good morning)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/02-2KID.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/02-2KID.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;“Good Morning” Jesus said,&lt;br /&gt;Though I didn’t understand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For I found myself once again&lt;br /&gt;In a strange and distant land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Good morning back to You”&lt;br /&gt;Said I -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Through my Russian friend)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A smile broke out across His face&lt;br /&gt;And then He took my hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yellow blue bus” (Ya loobluh vas)&lt;br /&gt;In Russian - I love you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I winked and smiled,&lt;br /&gt;And then replied“Jesus, I love you too!”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615928818190039?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615928818190039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615928818190039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/dobre-outra-good-morning.html' title='Dobre Outra (good morning)'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615959796506968</id><published>2002-09-01T09:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T12:48:54.433-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No Tears</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/02-BYE3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/02-BYE3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The day of our final return to the Deaf Orphanage brought the children running. Once again acting as my Russian teachers - they quickly began pointing to their eyes, noses, ears, eyelashes – to see if I retained the words they had so carefully repeated over and over the day before. Slowly, phonetically, they mouthed out the words – laughing at the mistakes and eagerly and enthusiastically rewarding the successful pronunciation of smile. “OOO-lip-ska” I would repeat and then make varying degrees and sizes of my smile – eliciting laughter all around. Then one boy taught me the word for tears. &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#33cc00;"&gt;Thou tellest my wanderings: put Thou my tears into Thy bottle: are they not in Thy book? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 56:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He quickly took the finger he had traced the imaginary tear with and waved it emphatically to tell me “No crying!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He could read in my eyes the connection and again he traced the tear down his face, shook his finger and his head “no tears”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We packed ourselves into the bus, out of the cold that was quietly penetrating our clothing. The children surrounded the van for one more hug, a last wave, blown kisses and mouthing silently the words - “I Love You.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we drove away my eye caught the face of my young orphan teacher. With a broad smile, he motioned once more, shaking his head and finger to remind me of his heartfelt instructions. “No tears.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#33cc00;"&gt;He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then He said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Revelation 21:3-5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615959796506968?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615959796506968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615959796506968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/no-tears.html' title='No Tears'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615943868824227</id><published>2002-09-01T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T12:47:19.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Props</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/01-props.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/01-props.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;Where is the philosopher? Where is the scholar? Where is the debater of the age? Hasn’t God made the world’s wisdom foolish? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1 Cor 1:20&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In days of high-tech presentations, we arrive in the mission field of our calling, and worry if we have a “program” that will reach the lost. The first day of our arrival in Sovetsk my bag of tricks was left behind and I did without the night’s preparation for the next day. My flesh was quick to think “How do you expect me to do what is required if I don’t have my props!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our co-laborers in other parts of the world rely solely on the power of His word and the testimony of His resurrection. Men stand before crowds of illiterate masses without visual aides, Teleprompters, and the latest advances in evangelistic props. Here we are 2000 years later saved by the Word of the Risen Lord – yet we go out armed with Western accoutrements, new “translations” anyone can understand, wondering which version is the most appropriate for our audience. We have countless Study Bibles: men, women, students, teen, new believer, discipleship, prophetic, and apologetic. Bibles designed to suit the latest spiritual trend. But have we become a more faithful population? Is our spirituality deeper, our belief in God stronger, our ability to share Christ growing bolder with so much variation on the same theme?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit's power, so that your faith might not rest on men's wisdom, but on God's power. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1 Corinthians 2:1-5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Centuries have passed without the information of the “Information Age”. Are we growing soft in our confidence that the message proclaimed boldly and with conviction truly has the power to save and redeem a sinner’s soul?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;John 12:32&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our counterparts in the first century prayed for courage to proclaim His Name even in&lt;br /&gt;chains! We are praying our props don’t fail! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615943868824227?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615943868824227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615943868824227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/props.html' title='Props'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615979101990126</id><published>2002-09-01T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T12:49:24.123-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Eternity</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/02-DANCE.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/02-DANCE.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today I met Jesus&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He ran right up to me&lt;br /&gt;And with the arms of a little one&lt;br /&gt;Hugged me till I couldn't breathe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today I heard Jesus&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And what a voice He had!&lt;br /&gt;I heard Him in the laughter&lt;br /&gt;Of a child no longer sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today I saw Jesus&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had a great big smile!&lt;br /&gt;I saw Him in the face&lt;br /&gt;Of each grinning child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today I kissed Jesus&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tasted Eternity&lt;br /&gt;For on the lips of the "least of these"&lt;br /&gt;He said,"You've done so unto Me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615979101990126?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615979101990126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615979101990126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/eternity.html' title='Eternity'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615988434766345</id><published>2002-09-01T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T12:53:12.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/02-BYE1.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/02-BYE1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Late one night after returning from a long day of ministry, the team gathered in the hotel foyer for fellowship. I chose to return to my room, warm up, and write a little before bed. I thought of all I had experienced that day; all the hugs, kisses and smiles. The poem flowed from a heart of thanksgiving. But the tears flowed when I really understood, just how many times I had kissed the mouth of my Lord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615988434766345?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615988434766345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615988434766345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/late-one-night-after-returning-from.html' title=''/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616057362976661</id><published>2002-09-01T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T16:30:56.093-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ministry, Miracles and Mexican Food</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Jun06_40.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 185px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 182px" height="192" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Jun06_40.jpg" width="188" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In summer my travel and ministry activity slowed, but with the intercontinental schedule I kept the first six months of the year it came as a welcome relief. But one activity I try never to miss is my weekly Mexican food night with Rebekah “Giggles” Berry. My time with my “best good friend” is one of the highlights of my week. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Rebekah loved the idea of being made a clown at camp the first year CARE EE was there – and every year since – she is known to all as “Giggles the clown.” She sings, dances, and does her own tricks! Her smile and laughter is straight from the angels. Since we met at the Joni &amp;amp; Friends Family Camp, in our weekly times together over ‘enchilada specials’ I feel as though I’ve dined with a special emissary of the King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#330099;"&gt;Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hebrews 13:2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever we’re together she never fails to ask Jesus to bless me. She’s even been know to stop mid “chip and salsa” bite to ask Jesus to meet one of her friend CARE EE’s needs. One Saturday night I was eating dinner with Rebekah and her high priority was my answer to an invitation to her Sunday school class. Every five minutes she would interrupt and ask for an answer. “CARE EE have you thought about it yet?” “No, Rebekah, I will let you know.” When Rebekah said the blessing before dinner she prayed, “Dear Lord, please help CARE EE to think about coming to my Sunday school class. Lord, we know You can do miracles, and this would be a miracle if she came to my Sunday school class. We want Your miracle. Amen”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was embarrassed. I should have just said yes. My acceptance of a simple invitation was hardly miracle material! Now she was praying for the Lord to change my mind and bring her a miracle. The next morning, as I got ready to join Rebekah for Sunday school, the phone rang. It was her mother Jane, asking me to bring my little wooden apple so I could share a story with her class. I packed my props and my shame and asked the Lord to forgive me, and use me as an answer to my dear friend’s prayer. During the announcements, the director told the large group (of very special people) that three of the teachers were absent and they were going to have a tough time filling in with a program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There in my bag was Rebekah’s miracle. What she had asked for the night before was realized with the absence of the teachers. What a reception of waves and chuckles as I was introduced as a clown (even though I didn’t look like one). I stood up, took my props to the front of the room and with the help of my best good friend Giggles we told the story of the little apple tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rebekah knew the next day would need a miracle … and she had no doubt her God would provide!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616057362976661?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616057362976661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616057362976661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/ministry-miracles-and-mexican-food.html' title='Ministry, Miracles and Mexican Food'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616094550748803</id><published>2002-09-01T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T16:31:23.103-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CHINA</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Olivia%20-%20Class%20shot.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 233px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 205px" height="272" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Olivia%20-%20Class%20shot.0.jpg" width="332" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#003300;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Taian University Program&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;Student Outreach to 3,000&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;Orphanage Outreach 80&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Precious Sight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Olivia%20-%20Class%20shot.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;I am always amazed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;By Your love and Your grace&lt;br /&gt;The way that Your heart&lt;br /&gt;Shows up on each face &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;The tenderest times&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The smiles of great joy&lt;br /&gt;The cackle and laughter&lt;br /&gt;Of each girl and boy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;Lord, You show me You&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Each day and each hour&lt;br /&gt;How it’s not about me&lt;br /&gt;But Your Spirit and power&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Olivia%20-%20Class%20shot.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;From nations and lands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black, yellow and white,&lt;br /&gt;Young and old, big or small&lt;br /&gt;Each a precious sight &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;Lord, help me reach them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the Kingdom above&lt;br /&gt;And show them Your truth&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;It’s ALL about love! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616094550748803?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616094550748803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616094550748803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/china.html' title='CHINA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616126741603391</id><published>2002-09-01T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T16:21:07.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Listening</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CHINA.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/CHINA.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6666cc;"&gt;And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hebrews 13:16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My return to the Taian Agricultural University drew quite the crowd. After my visit last year, news spread about the funny American clown, who happened to be a writer and poet. My first appearance at the school this year was a “lecture” for 300 students; I saw many familiar faces in the crowded room. I was greeted with warm enthusiasm as students yelled out different things they recalled from my visit last year. They still express surprise that I am a mother of three, and when I proudly tell the ages of my children (22, 19, 17) an audible “wow” definitely boosts my ego. One student said, “ Please, tell us a story of your family”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;Jesus spoke all these things to the crowd in parables; He did not say anything to them without using a parable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;"What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 18:12 &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Many years ago, when my children were still very, very small, we lived in a two-story house. Inside my closet, was a little door that lead into an attic room above the roof. It was the perfect size for a child’s imaginary kingdoms and castles. The children loved to creep into my closet and escape into their fantasy world. One evening while cooking dinner, I began to hear suspicious noises above me. “Bang, bang, bang!” I ran upstairs to see what was making such a racket. The closer I got the louder I could hear my children’s muffled cries and pleading shouts for help coming from the attic. Quickly I went into my closet, opened the door, and out fell all three children landing on top of each other, crying hysterically. When I asked them, “What’s the matter?” They replied sobbing, “We were locked in and thought we would be in there forever!” I stifled my laughter. “Didn’t you know that I would come looking for you? Didn’t you realize that I would miss you when dinner was ready?” They looked at each other with puzzled expressions. “We didn’t think about that. All we knew was we couldn’t turn the door handle and get out.” &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The students had a good laugh. When it happened, I know my children didn’t think it was too funny. They really believed they were destined for starvation or worse in their attic prison. But I never could overlook what the Lord taught me through their hysteria. How many times have I been sure He was forgetting some important detail or need of my life, and fret and panic in my prayers?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6666cc;"&gt;The Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, Who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 1:3-4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shared with the students that insight, and the belief I have in God, who I know hears me. I know He is watching, and I know He comes “looking” for me anytime I hide myself away. I believe it for me, I believe it for them, and I believe it for the thousands of orphan children I meet each year, when I sadly wave goodbye. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#9999ff;"&gt;I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;John 14:18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616126741603391?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616126741603391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616126741603391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/listening.html' title='Listening'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616146842117187</id><published>2002-09-01T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T16:24:28.423-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/02-GROUP.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/02-GROUP.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;"A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path… &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 13:3-4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting permission to visit an orphanage in China is not easy. Last year the Foreign Affairs Officer (FAO) in Taian arranged my visit. This year, the FAO was not available and the task fell to one of the University students. The director of the orphanage was reluctant, but with much persuasion and diligence on the part of the student, the visit was finally approved. After my performance for the classes some of the students expressed a desire to come along with us. Several of the foreign teachers (including my friends Jim and Deb Phalen), five students, and one clown piled into the taxi and headed off on a very bumpy life changing experience!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The children were jumping for joy seeing so many visitors. This would be a special treat for them indeed. The performance was filled with laughter, merriment and song. Afterwards, we presented a gift of school supplies and shared cake and cookies with them. We had a chance to interact with the children, talk with them, learn of their life in the orphanage, and just laugh together. Our goodbyes were exceptionally hard. Many tears fell on our way down the stairs. Sadness embraced us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brokenhearted by the faces of those left behind, we climbed into the taxi. As we drove away a student asked me, “Do you think a man grows by the experiences he has?” I told him in retrospect, having many years and experiences, I could agree wholeheartedly. He looked away so I wouldn’t see his tears, and replied, “Today, I think I grew up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;But the one who received the seed that fell on good soil is the man who hears the word and understands it. He produces a crop, yielding a 100, 60 or 30 times what was sown." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 13:23&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can gladly report the Harvest in Taian continues. The University student, who acted as my interpreter, committed her life to Christ a few weeks after I left China, and is growing strong participating in weekly Bible study. Several of those who made the trip to the orphanage with us have continued for the last six months to make regular visits to see the children. They are teaching them English, sharing their time and learning that being available and showing up is 90% of any endeavor of the heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616146842117187?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616146842117187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616146842117187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/growing-up.html' title='Growing Up'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113616174302827825</id><published>2002-09-01T09:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T16:29:03.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'>We Proclaim...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Dancing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/Dancing.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#ff9966;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;... to you what we have seen and heard, so that you also may have fellowship with us. And our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son, Jesus Christ. We write this to make our joy complete. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#3366ff;"&gt;I John 1:3-4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This issue of &lt;strong&gt;The Forecast&lt;/strong&gt; contains just a few of the countless 2002 stories. I wrote, read, edited and cried at all that the Lord continues to do through Sunshine After Rain ministries. I hope you share these stories with others, for they are your stories, your testimony and your ministry too! Orphans were hugged and kissed, people with disability were embraced by grace and acceptance, elderly people shared laughter and enjoyed feeling young at heart, and those who can’t dance (after all I am a Baptist) rolled with happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3366ff;"&gt;I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in Me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3366ff;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Jn 14:12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you will see from the schedule, plans are being made, plane reservations confirmed and we set forth with gladness of heart and a focused purpose. As believers we are called into the mission field. Called to proclaim the Good News - Jesus saves! We are taking part in the great Commission, taking the Gospel forth unto the ends of the earth. Some go and some send. I am glad to be your emissary and the King’s Ambassador. I love Him, and enjoy the journey – and in case you had any doubt what my favorite verse is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3366ff;"&gt;I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!" &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 6:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113616174302827825?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616174302827825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113616174302827825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2002/09/we-proclaim.html' title='We Proclaim...'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113614879170306027</id><published>2001-10-01T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T16:33:22.196-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VOLUME 9 - 2001</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 298px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px" height="241" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Kneeling.1.jpg" width="305" border="0" /&gt;2001 changed our world. It changed the way we look at our country, our heroes, our families and our God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In spite of worldwide tragedies, it was also an indescribable year of mission and ministry. It is difficult to put into finite terms the eternal significance of what our infinite Lord has accomplished, but I am going to attempt to include you in the 2001 experiences of Sunshine After Rain Ministries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are such a strong part of the ministry, You send the work of the King forth to the ends of the earth. I hope in these despairing times your spirit will be encouraged by hearing what God is doing around the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rest assured He is still on His throne.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113614879170306027?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113614879170306027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113614879170306027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/volume-9-2001.html' title='VOLUME 9 - 2001'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113614929132906064</id><published>2001-10-01T09:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:02:59.700-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AFRICA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Ghana7t.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-Ghana7t.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tamalee, Ghana&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Samaritan's Purse Operation Christmas Child&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Distribution to 16,000 children - Gospel heard by over 60,000&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;With God&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 19:26&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our mission seemed impossible! I listened with astonishment as the Samaritan’s Purse Team Coordinator said, “Our goal is to distribute over 12,000 boxes through the Operation Christmas Child program in the northern region of Ghana, West Africa.” With a certain level of unease I asked, “How many people are on the team?” “So far, counting you,” she hesitated, “four from the U.S. and Alan and Patsy Fulton, our two missionaries stationed in Tema, Africa – but… we will have around thirty African nationals there to help us, too.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;"I am the LORD, the God of all mankind. Is anything too hard for me? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Jeremiah 32:27&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The van swerved around potholes in the red clay dirt of the main thoroughfare. The walking path alongside teemed with a brightly colored array of humanity. Carried on backs, atop heads, in goat drawn carts an assortment of merchandise bought and sold for this civilization’s daily survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;This is what the LORD says: “In the time of my favor I will answer you, and in the day of salvation I will help you … say to the captives, 'Come out,' and to those in darkness, 'Be free!' &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 49:8-9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As darkness descended, campfires illuminated the landscape while the faces of the natives faded into obscurity. Ghostly images wandering between mud huts, the chaos of a modern western world far away. In our society filled with material wealth and microwaves, life spins at a dizzying pace, while here it exists as life always has – one day at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113614929132906064?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113614929132906064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113614929132906064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/africa.html' title='AFRICA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615008870322418</id><published>2001-10-01T09:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:18:19.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Multitudes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Ghana5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px" height="191" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-Ghana5.jpg" width="288" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Once we arrived in the northern region of Tamalee, our task began with the arduous daily loading of shipping crates filled with “Christmas” packages. Carefully marked by gender and age, we stacked the school bus serving as our transportation, to the ceiling. Once loaded, we made our way to remote villages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We encountered thousands of children, parents and curious bystanders waiting under the little available shade, to witness the arrival of these gift-bearing white strangers. Many of the children climbed nearby trees, to get a better view. It was quite a sight. The shear numbers that gathered was astounding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;Ah, Sovereign LORD, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power … Nothing is too hard for you. You show love to thousands… &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Jer 32:17-18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the program ended an unorganized assembly line with the children standing patiently in the sweltering heat to receive their “Christmas box” formed. There were probably twice as many children as names on the list of those who would benefit from our special delivery. All in all the operation ran as smoothly as could be expected. Dissolving into one huge chaotic scream of joy, as the children began to open their multi-colored packages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#996633;"&gt;His disciples answered, "Where could we get enough bread in this remote place to feed such a crowd?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#996633;"&gt;Matthew 15:33&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666600;"&gt;Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat… without money and without cost. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 55:1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we finished, the sadness of the many children left out was heartbreaking. Realizing we were leaving, the villagers began to surround us, pulling and pushing with the youngest children almost trampled in the rush. Parents shoved their offspring forward pointing to the younger ones and babies, beseeching us “Please for my baby, for my sick child, please give me your address, can you help us, please madam.” The scrambling feet of the happy and the hopeless raised the red earth to a suffocating level of choking dust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;"Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;John 4:13-14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We fought our way through what was quickly becoming a mob. Once inside the safety of the truck, the children surrounded the vehicle. I ashamedly admit I looked away from the pressing faces and overwhelming need. Was this melee a scene of future images of hell- when there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth, people fighting scrambling and crying out for such worthless and perishable items - while the real gift of salvation and eternal life was always free?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#666600;"&gt;Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Gal 6:9-10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove away. But the images of the children did not fade in the cloud of red dust that surrounded us. I remain unable and unwilling to forget. Father we know You have seen each hungry face, You have recorded all their tears, and You are able!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. As it is written: "He has scattered abroad his gifts to the poor; his righteousness endures forever." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 9:8-9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615008870322418?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615008870322418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615008870322418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/multitudes.html' title='The Multitudes'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615049298382656</id><published>2001-10-01T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:21:32.986-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Eat an Elephant</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Ghana3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-Ghana3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As you may know, the answer to the proverbial question of “&lt;em&gt;how to eat an elephant&lt;/em&gt;” is “&lt;em&gt;one bite at a time.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the first two exhausting days of the distribution, a decision needed to be made by the team. Additional boxes could be delivered and our goal exceeded if we chose to stay in the region and not spend the last day at the national game preserve relaxing and sightseeing. Despite the heat and the adverse conditions, the response by all was, “we came to serve the Lord, not see elephants.” I went to Africa a seasoned missionary in the foreign field, and yet when I heard the distribution goal with so few people on the team, and in such a short time period, I didn’t see how it could be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 17:19-20&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With each day of our obedience in faith, we took one bite out of a huge “elephant” wrapped in Christmas paper, and the Lord’s response in love was a spiritual fullness and “mountain moving” adventure better than any safari!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a recent report from the Fulton’s [apfmin@africaonline.com.gh] there are now 500 Islamic children participating in a Bible Study in the Tamalee region with 350 more on the waiting list. Pastor Kwame and his wife Susie do not have the space or materials to bring more in. A story passed on by Pastor Kwame: a Muslim lady came on a Sunday at 6:00 a.m. in the pouring rain with her crying child. She got down on her knees and begged him to take her child in the Bible study so the child would quit crying. This Bible study is a direct result of the Samaritan’s Purse distribution efforts alongside the King of Kings in two short weeks. The local church outreach had not been able to accomplish this gathering of youth in 28 years!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"&gt;Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ephesians 3:20-21&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615049298382656?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615049298382656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615049298382656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/how-to-eat-elephant.html' title='How to Eat an Elephant'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615064225511082</id><published>2001-10-01T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:26:02.826-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Joshua to Jabez</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Ghana6.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 560px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 310px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="286" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/9-Ghana6.jpg" width="509" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Ghana6.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Success even in the Christian realm is too often measured numerically: number of Bibles distributed, professions of faith, gospel heard by. The people we reached in Africa in that one week were ten times the number generally seen by our ministry in an entire year. So by that unit of measure it was a resounding success. I was overwhelmed to realize the people exposed to the gospel (60,000+) and the children served (16,000+). In 130° heat, in a culture unfamiliar with even the most basic modern conveniences of clean water and indoor plumbing, I saw the Lord at work in His way in His time. The experience reminded me of the twelve spies sent to report on the Promised Land. Ten returned speaking of insurmountable odds, but two came with a vision of what God on their side could accomplish:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;… Do not be afraid of the people of the land, …the LORD is with us. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Numbers 14:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, there were mobs of people we couldn’t control, there was pandemonium, there was disorganization. Everything was in place for human failure – but God was with us. He showed up in the dust and dirty pathways, down avenues to tribal villages held in the clutches of Islam. The Word was preached and His name held above all names.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The images in my heart and soul will remain: the upturned faces, the bright shining smiles, the babies tied to their mother’s backs, the way “beyond dirty” feet, the politeness of some, the greed of others and the dust, Lord, the dust! Father, You have been faithful to this oftentimes unfaithful servant; You blessed us indeed; You enlarged our territory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a mighty way Lord, in days of weakness, You were our strength. In times of trial and discomfort, our only comfort. In hours of aloneness, our friend and confidant. Lord you watched carefully over us. We were challenged by the crowds but not overwhelmed. We were sustained by Your word and shared it freely with others. As surely as you singled out Jabez, You blessed us once again with your unmerited grace. We continue to bless Your holy name.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615064225511082?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615064225511082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615064225511082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/joshua-to-jabez.html' title='Joshua to Jabez'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615129420998769</id><published>2001-10-01T09:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:34:54.210-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Julia's Prayer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Julia.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-Julia.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In 1999, we chanced to meet a young girl named Julia at an orphanage in the Kirov city limits. Each summer the children are sent to relatives while the orphanages close for a month of repairs. Galina Rueben (the pastor’s wife) expressed great concern for Julia because she had no place to go. Two of our team members tried to organize a way for Julia to come to America for the summer. It seemed a heaven sent answer. Money was left, hopes were raised and the prayers began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;As the heavens are higher than the earth, &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 55:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plan failed. The authorities refused to grant a visa and instead Julia was sent to a mental hospital (the only public institution that had room for her) during the time the orphanage was closed. Hearts broke on both sides of the ocean. When the new school year began her situation grew even worse. She was sent to the small rural town of Sanchursk, 6 hours south of Kirov to one of the poorest orphanages in the whole region. The weekly visits by the Kirov Bible Church, became another sad and distant memory. Heartbroken, Galina contacted the East West Ministries Children’s Director to ask if the next time the Americans came to Kirov they would also do a program for Julia’s orphanage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;So are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isaiah 55:9&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615129420998769?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615129420998769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615129420998769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/julias-prayer.html' title='Julia&apos;s Prayer'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615113367251729</id><published>2001-10-01T09:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:32:13.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RUSSIA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Orphan1_K.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-Orphan1_K.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;Kirov Region&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;East West Ministries International&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Orphanage Outreach to 600 children&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The God of All Comfort&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;The God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble…&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; 2 Corinthians 1:3-4&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In April, we partnered with East West Ministries International and returned for a third time to Kirov, Russia on an orphanage outreach. Though our encounters with the children last only a few days, we are assured in many ways of their eternal significance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, known and read by everybody. You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 3:2-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615113367251729?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615113367251729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615113367251729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/russia.html' title='RUSSIA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615143657898634</id><published>2001-10-01T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:37:16.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>His Plans</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Orphans1_K.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-Orphans1_K.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our arrival again in 2001, carried with it much fanfare. The elderly look up from their rigorous daily chores to see our huge bus make its way down the muddy and rutted streets. The local children congregate at the one restaurant in town with pen and paper in hand to get the “autographs” of the American visitors. They bear “gifts” to make sure we will remember them, and bring cherished evidence of the trip we made last year. As for the children confined in the orphanage, their faces line the windows in anticipation, waving at us furiously, to ensure we feel welcome once again. There excitement is contagious. They run to greet us grabbing arms and legs and anything else they can hold on to. The team is crushed by the crowds embrace and humbled with the outpouring of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we drove to the orphanage, joyfully we saw the building refurbished by money donated through East West. We experienced gratitude on the faces of the doctors and workers after the presentation of thousands of dollars in medicine, clothes and school supplies. Again we saw Julia, still broken hearted, sad, and waiting for her prayers to be answered. We come and go freely, feeling good about ourselves, and our missionary efforts. But Julia and countless other children in orphanages around the world, suffer crushing loneliness as they watch another bus disappear again, into the distance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615143657898634?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615143657898634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615143657898634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/his-plans.html' title='His Plans'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615151881924894</id><published>2001-10-01T09:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:01:27.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No is Sometimes the Answer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-Director_K.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/9-Director_K.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all fight back the tears. Such overwhelming need remains. With gentleness and wisdom, Galina reflected if the Lord had answered Julia’s prayers to come to America, we would not have visited Sanchursk and 225 orphans who received medicine, new clothes, school supplies, and a refurbished building – wouldn’t know about God’s great love for them and hold the Bibles we delivered. In the brokenness of many unanswered questions, and seemingly disregarded prayers, now I remember Julia and know my thoughts are not His thoughts, and my ways are not His.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615151881924894?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615151881924894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615151881924894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/no-is-sometimes-answer.html' title='No is Sometimes the Answer'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615172668530280</id><published>2001-10-01T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:42:06.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>CHINA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-China_wall2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 243px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 180px" height="166" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-China_wall2.jpg" width="228" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Taian Agricultural University&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Program Outreach 300 students 36 orphans&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Great Wall&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven hundred years before the manger in Bethlehem, construction began on the Great Wall of China. For over 2000 years it served as a barrier to invading armies and those seeking to conquer the ruling Dynasty. Countries are in the business of protecting their property, people, and their power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#6600cc;"&gt;Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 127:1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;For years, our enemy had a red face called Communism. We remained steadfast in a Cold War against a governmental evil. Times change and now the face of our enemy is not so readily definable. During the Nixon administration the first communication barriers came down between East and West. Americans began to visit China and see the Great Wall first hand. But long before that peace treaty was ever signed the Lord was busy constructing His church in China.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615172668530280?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615172668530280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615172668530280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/china.html' title='CHINA'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615191914581021</id><published>2001-10-01T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:45:19.146-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Did You Not Come Sooner?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-taylorsm1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-taylorsm1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;J. Hudson Taylor &lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;(1832-1905)&lt;/span&gt; was an English missionary to China and founder of China Inland Mission, which at his death included 205 mission stations with 849 missionaries, and 125,000 Chinese Christians. After a Buddhist man’s conversion, he asked Taylor how long the gospel had been known in England. When told it had been known for hundreds of years, the man was shocked. “What! For hundreds of years you have had these glad tidings and only now have come to preach it to us? Oh, why did you not come sooner?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1998 I met Jim and Deb Phalen who were busy making plans to become “teachers” in China.  They jokingly extended an invitation for me to come and do my performance when they received their position at the University.  It was over a year before they made to China but three years later, what was once a humorous plan between new friends became a reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; 2 Pet 3:8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My impressions of China left me feeling I’d explored a varied fruit orchard planted in faithfulness by the likes of my friends and the legacy of men and women like Hudson Taylor.  Tended by many down through the years – the full harvest of fruit is yet to be realized.  The voices of Communism and state promulgated atheism come in to destroy the sprouting buds of the Word.  Those who come to spread the good news fight the blight of a society closed to the Gospel.  Supporters like you place nets of prayer over the tender branches, and we wait for the harvest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#3333ff;"&gt;The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish... &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Pet 3:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615191914581021?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615191914581021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615191914581021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/why-did-you-not-come-sooner.html' title='Why Did You Not Come Sooner?'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615256170392144</id><published>2001-10-01T09:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:56:01.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Toto We're Not in Kansas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-China4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-China4.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#996633;"&gt;In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Prov 16:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;China presented a unique circumstance. Most of my past performances were geared toward children who do not speak English. These were University students, at Masters Degree level studies. The presentations at the school were designed to foster questions of a spiritual nature – which I could freely answer. Each day I went into the first class as myself. I spoke about the activities of Sunshine After Rain Ministries, while passing out pictures of CARE EE in various places around the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explained the “art” of clowning and then slowly I turned into CARE EE before their eyes.  They laughed far more than I expected (given their age) and engaged animatedly as I asked for volunteers for the various skits and tricks. Once the performance was completed the students were free to ask questions.  I was not surprised when the students expressed more interest in the “how” of the tricks than the “who” behind them. Too often, I am the same way – asking God how and why He did something grand or awful other than asking questions that will tell me more about who He is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both Before and After the presentations, I spoke about becoming who God intended for us to be from the beginning. None of the students could grasp the concept of doing something motivated by charity and love.  The students did not understand pursuing activities where no money was involved.  The most frequent question brought the opportunity hoped for.  The question of “why” do I go to these far off places; why do I witness in bad and desperate circumstances opened the discussion to share the “upward high calling”.  Afterwards, many of the female students were very vocal in their praise, sharing how much they “learned” about friendship and love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615256170392144?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615256170392144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615256170392144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/toto-were-not-in-kansas.html' title='Toto We&apos;re Not in Kansas'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615202803582578</id><published>2001-10-01T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T13:47:08.036-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"...not a great faith we need, but...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-china%20girl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-china%20girl.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;... faith in a great God.” &lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#6600cc;"&gt;(J. Hudson Taylor)&lt;/span&gt; The fact the Lord works in mysterious ways brings a smile to some and a cringe to others. I suppose it depends on whether you are the mysterious one He is working through or watching and marveling at His humor. My past experiences in Asian culture (Japan) and a communist one (Russia) did little prepare me for the Chinese. I was pleasantly surprised to meet people quite eager to engage in conversation and try out their English.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#663366;"&gt;Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Hebrews 13:2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encountered a young girl at one of the tourist destinations in the city. Her English was quite good, and she readily engaged in a lengthy conversation. After a few minutes of discussion she said, “I’m a Christian! I’ve been praying today for the Lord to bless me – and here you are – I meet other believers!” Her enthusiasm at the serendipitous acts of a Father toward His children was heartwarming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615202803582578?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615202803582578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615202803582578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/not-great-faith-we-need-but.html' title='&quot;...not a great faith we need, but...'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615272982453759</id><published>2001-10-01T09:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:03:00.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finish Strong</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-China5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 234px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px" height="183" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-China5.jpg" width="239" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On the last day of performances, the Foreign Affairs Officer (FAO) for the city of Taian was in the audience. I went through the same explanations of where I go and why. The students gladly participated with enthusiasm and joy. After the class, the FAO asked if I would be interested in performing at the orphanage in the city. He would make all the necessary arrangements. This type of openness to allow foreign visitors into the orphanage was UNHEARD of! However, we know Who is opening the doors that no man can shut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Ephesians 6:12&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day our group (the English teachers at the University) was escorted to the Taian hotel, which houses 36 orphans. It was quite a turnout of city officials and dignitaries complete with news coverage and journalists. The children were thrilled at the entertainment and the attention. This event opened the door for the possibility of returning to China to visit orphanages in more remote areas where the need is much greater.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615272982453759?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615272982453759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615272982453759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/finish-strong.html' title='Finish Strong'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615284516537149</id><published>2001-10-01T09:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:00:45.166-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fight the Good Fight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-tank-1.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-tank-1.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"&gt;The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Cor 10:4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the summer of 1989 the world watched, horror stricken, while brave students faced down tanks and armies sent in to disperse the crowd in Tianamen Square.   The media recorded the melee breaking down into bloody chaos, and hopes for freedom and an end to Communist oppression died in the summer heat.  Twelve years later I walked in the same Square and realized that the time for revolution has yet to come to China, the Wall is still there, but another much stronger Force is poised to bring about the much needed change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Countless thousands meet daily to share in the work of His spirit through His Word, as it has since the days of Hudson Taylor.  What “tanks” are we willing to stand in the face of to spread the freedom found in Him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"&gt;It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Galatians 5:1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615284516537149?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615284516537149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615284516537149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/fight-good-fight.html' title='Fight the Good Fight'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615336503288105</id><published>2001-10-01T09:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:09:25.033-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TEXAS</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/meaclown.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" height="240" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/meaclown.jpg" width="196" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Camp Allen&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Joni and Friends Ministry&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#006600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#006600;"&gt;Outreach to 52 Families Affected by Disability&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A Piece of Heaven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#336666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, … for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 19:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When important dignitaries visit a city, they rarely make time for children other than the proverbial baby’s hug and kiss. Those with little money to contribute, and no voting capabilities are seldom made room for. Yet wherever Jesus went, children were not far behind. His close friends were more often than not, annoyed at the persistence of the youth. But Jesus rebuked their annoyance, and gladly spent time with the children, explaining their identity and inheritance to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#339999;"&gt;Our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Romans 8:18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615336503288105?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615336503288105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615336503288105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/texas.html' title='TEXAS'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615355715286557</id><published>2001-10-01T09:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:32:20.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Be Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/MM_wave.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="289" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/MM_wave.jpg" width="189" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The best of times and the worst of times can happen simultaneously. Of course Charles Dickens knew that, and each year when we return to Camp Allen we are reminded of it as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first day when families arrive brings such joy. Friends are reunited, hugs shared and tears of happiness fall. But with their joy there is a knowing, goodbyes will come too soon and the returning reality of the world is but a short car ride away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the first day, the families are greeted with joy and celebration. Attendees are encouraged to participate in a variety of activities, normally not available to them. From horseback riding, hayrides, swimming and a good old-fashioned carnival (complete with clowns!) the families have fun. Short term missionaries are there to serve their needs and ensure it is a place of refreshing and renewal. Clowns engage the children with stories and “tricks” during daily activities and the nights bring entertainment celebrating the families and enjoying the variety of talent and gifts each individual brings to the shows! Hearts delight and dissolve into hilarious laughter to see “chicken dances” and “cricket impressions”. Joy is found in abundance&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The families often express that the few days they are at the Family Retreat, their world becomes like a “piece of heaven”. It is a place where there is acceptance and much needed rest, a place where fellowship is not measured by outward appearances or capabilities, a place where love flows freely without measure or conditions. It truly is a “retreat”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333399;"&gt;In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Matthew 5:16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615355715286557?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615355715286557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615355715286557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/ill-be-back.html' title='I&apos;ll Be Back'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615383449906961</id><published>2001-10-01T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:17:14.503-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FINLAND</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/9-PAULA.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="199" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/9-PAULA.jpg" width="191" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Vantaa, Finland&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gospel Communication Outreach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#330099;"&gt;Finnish Free Foreign Mission&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Best Medicine&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!" &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Romans 10:15&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Paula Vanttinen in Bosnia during a Wheels to the World trip with Joni and Friends. We kept in touch for two years, and she invited me to minister at the hospital where she works as an occupational therapist. I had the opportunity to stop off in Finland in September, while on my way to Israel for TV production. In addition to a presentation at the hospital, Paula arranged for a meeting with the Finnish Free Foreign Mission, an evangelical mission group that has a wide outreach to children. I performed for the staff and directors of the organization, showing them ways to share the gospel “in greasepaint.” On Sunday, Paula and I took the train into Helsinki for a performance at her church, but as you can imagine, the performance began when we boarded the train – the travelers getting the explanation for a clown in their midst “it’s an American!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday the meeting Paula arranged with the doctors and nurses at the hospital was really an open door from the Lord. I spoke with first hand experience on the benefit of laughter to children in difficult environments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#993399;"&gt;A cheerful heart is good medicine. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Proverbs 17:22&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;"&gt;How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Romans 10:14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clowns and doctors share a common goal – to improve conditions of those in pain.  The goal is to affect a person in a positive way - physicians primarily through their knowledge and medicine – clowns through compassion and joy.  There are two languages understood worldwide - tears and laughter – no translation is required.  Healing the sadness associated with sickness and circumstance is possible even though outward conditions may not change, attitude can make all the difference – and we all are in the business of making a difference.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615383449906961?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615383449906961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615383449906961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/finland.html' title='FINLAND'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615422031593864</id><published>2001-10-01T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:31:08.886-08:00</updated><title type='text'>911</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/main.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/main.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I checked into the Helsinki airport hotel for the convenience and transportation to my 5:00 a.m. flight to Israel the next day. When I got to the room I turned the television to the international BBC channel. The image I saw was staggering. In Helsinki it was 3:45 in the afternoon. The events in New York had just begun&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#003333;"&gt;Men will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world… &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Luke 21:26&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stared in disbelief and horror along with millions of others across the globe. Shocked, I sat down and thought “Lord You really are coming back!” As the unimaginable unfolded I realized how quickly disaster changes things. Symbols of our financial strength and position in the world collapsed in less than an hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333300;"&gt;In one hour such great wealth has been brought to ruin! … When they see the smoke of her burning, they will say, 'Was there ever a city like this great city?' &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Rev 18:17-18&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;color:#ff0000;"&gt;Tonight, we are a country awakened to danger and called to defend freedom. Our grief has turned to anger and anger to resolution. Whether we bring our enemies to justice or bring justice to our enemies, justice will be done" ...President George W. Bush&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#003333;"&gt;Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God…He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will deliver us. On Him we have set our hope that He will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers. Then many will give thanks on our behalf for the gracious favor granted us in answer to the prayers of many. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Cor 1:9-11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a meeting scheduled with the Finnish Director of Child Evangelism for 5:00, and when she arrived the connection and companionship at such a time brought relief. We prayed for America, the countless victims and their families. We prayed for world leadership and the wisdom of our God. Then we prayed for the boldness of Christians across the world to speak up and speak out before it is too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#003333;"&gt;Therefore let everyone who is godly pray to You while You may be found; surely when the mighty waters rise, they will not reach him. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalm 32:6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We turned off the continuous television coverage and had our meeting. In a strange way, in our continued conversation about how to effectively evangelize children, against the backdrop of such unbelievable tragedy, I gained strength. I felt like a true soldier in the battlefield planning and strategizing even though it looked and felt like we were losing the war. In the trenches of the determination to take as many as we can into the Kingdom, I found courage. And when I made phone calls to Israel and back home to my family, I knew peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Philippians 4:7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called home (a first in 8 years of “field work”) and reached my 18-year-old son. He said, “Mom, you are just the person I wanted to talk to. You can’t still be going to Israel, haven’t you seen what is going on!” My heart was pierced in many ways - ways of joy – that he wanted to know what I had to say about the meaning of the situation, and ways of sorrow for the many sons and daughters that day who would never again hear from their parents words of encouragement that “all was going to be okay”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#336666;"&gt;"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1 Cor 15:55-58&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615422031593864?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615422031593864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615422031593864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/911.html' title='911'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113615448230929927</id><published>2001-10-01T09:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-01T14:28:02.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Comfort My People</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/statue%20of%20liberty.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/400/statue%20of%20liberty.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333300;"&gt;As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Isa 66:13&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I tried to comfort my son with these words, “as a believer – I do not hold to the adage a person can be “in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I told him he didn’t have to be afraid of any tragedy or accident that might happen to me on foreign soil. I’m not so sure he was sure. There were not enough words to explain that for me, in the end, being found in the service of the Lord when I am called home, is the only place I want to be!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#333300;"&gt;…I tell you, now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;2 Corinthians 6:2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flight left Helsinki as scheduled the next morning. But by the time I landed in Frankfurt, Germany, airports around the world were shut down. Thousands stood in lines, frantic about loved ones back home. Worried, stranded and strangely silent we waited and watched the monitors flashing “airport closed” across all US destinations. After 18 hours one flight departed for Tel Aviv under armed guards and very heavy security. I considered myself fortunate, I was getting on a plane when so many that day and in the days that followed did not. And for the 265 unsuspecting travelers on the hijacked aircrafts, they boarded 4 flights bound to change the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#003333;"&gt;And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Romans 8:28&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know God uses all things, even seemingly horrific tragedies like 911 for His glory and good. While we will never understand this side of heaven the mysteries of terror and tragic circumstance – we know that while we are here we have an important role to play in the workings of His plan. God bless you for continuing to make that possible for so many in all parts of the world! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;color:#003300;"&gt;Put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.  &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Eph 6:13&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113615448230929927?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615448230929927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113615448230929927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2001/10/comfort-my-people.html' title='Comfort My People'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113427237642099385</id><published>2000-12-30T19:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-01-02T12:57:23.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VOLUME 8 - 2000</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/Bosnia%20Team.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/Bosnia%20Team.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#330000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Missionary Why Are You Here?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;In the time of my favor I heard you, and in the day of salvation I helped you. I tell you, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation. 2 Corinthians 6:1-2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The adventurous spirit in me awoke as I read Bosnia on the upcoming Wheels for the World campaign schedule, “Now that would be a place to go”. Little did I know at the time the impact the trip would have on me. When I made contact with the European office coordinating the trip, they welcomed the prospect of another set of hands, especially ones that could bring “smiles” into the war-torn country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An international team composed of members from Finland, Holland, Belgium, and America, partnered with the Finnish Free Foreign Mission in Tuzla, Bosnia. This dedicated group works closely with the ministry of Joni Erickson Tada, translating her books into the native language, as well as promoting the ministry through the nationally televised airing of Joni’s life story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;I give you this charge: Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage— with great patience and careful instruction. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;2 Tim 4:1-2&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our initial meetings we learned the daunting figures facing the missionaries there. Out of a population of roughly 3.5 million, it is estimated that there are fewer than 500 evangelical Christians (including missionaries) in the whole country. Hearing that number, we knew the week ahead held great challenges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;I tell you the truth; you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. John 16:20&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it would be easy, “just another gig,” however clearly the Lord had some pruning in mind to this part of my garden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. John 15:2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside the rain and sleet came down. The location for distributing the majority of the over 200 wheelchairs was located in a school for disabled children which CARE EE quickly decorated with balloon hearts and flowers creating a colorful array across the dirty window-panes. Hopefully the decorations would hold cheerful warmth inside to fight the cold wet winter days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. 1 Timothy 1:13-14&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daily as the disabled arrived, the struggle to lift spirits and make smiles became more of a challenge. Little did I realize certain aspects of my repertoire just did not translate! Muslims are offended at the likeness of any religious personage. Therefore, my King of Hearts Cards with the big picture of Jesus raised more than a few eyebrows. And when I pulled out the plastic pig noses for the story of the Three Little Pigs, I thought the translator’s eyes were going to pop out. Quickly she said “No, no, you cannot use the pig, this is offensive.” I improvised, but it wore on my confidence. I felt like I was “in over my head.” As conversations with the locals wound up confrontational, I really began to have my doubts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry. 2 Timothy 4:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The individuals we ministered to, the stories of war, the shelled city of Sarajevo, the weather, all combined to send me back to the States emotion-ally broken. There were more questions than I had answers for, more images that didn’t smile back and no place for me to “file away” the feelings. I was ready to resume a secular lifestyle and leave the foreign mission field to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;And the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will Himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 1 Peter 5:10&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Back home nights were filled with silence. What called me into the mission field?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I be sure I’m still following the leading of the Lord and not the leading of the next adventure? The other American on the trip offered the single most critical piece of advice I’ve ever received, “Read the book &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc6600;"&gt;The Peace Child&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, by Don Richardson.” Within its pages is the story of one of the first missionaries to the cannibal tribes of New Guinea. As he was taking his wife and eighteen month old child back into the swamplands of the vicious and violent tribes, he got out of the boat, surrounded by war-painted natives, chanting and wielding their spears. Fear naturally set in. What danger faced his helpless family? At that moment, he felt the presence of the Lord asking him &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;“Missionary, why are you here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His answer changed my perspective forever: “&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;I have come to tell these people of Your great love for them, and I am prepared to die, to give all that I have to do that.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;And you, son of man, do not be afraid of them or their words. Do not be afraid, though briers and thorns are all around you and you live among scorpions. Do not be afraid of what they say or terrified by them, though they are a rebellious house. You must speak my words to them, whether they listen or fail to listen. Ezekiel 2:6-7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While bodily harm was not an issue for me in Bosnia, reading that statement reaffirmed the “why” I go and do, and get ready to go again and again. To have the conviction of the call, and to know life itself has no meaning outside of the upward high calling of Christ, is not only everything it is all that I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if I say, "I will not mention Him or speak any more in His name," His word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot. Jeremiah 20:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113427237642099385?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113427237642099385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113427237642099385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2000/12/volume-8-2000.html' title='VOLUME 8 - 2000'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19301165.post-113427277705762387</id><published>2000-12-29T19:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-11T15:47:08.813-08:00</updated><title type='text'>War Zone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/SRJV_MOM.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/320/SRJV_MOM.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;I lift up my eyes to the hills- where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Psalms 121:1-2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;color:#663333;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My admitted naiveté concerning the war in the former Yugoslavia is one that I unfortunately run across too frequently among my American counterparts. "Let's go save the world with sunshine, smiles, humanitarian aid and of course our Bibles". What I was faced with in Bosnia shocked me on every level. While the trip left me asking more questions with few answers, I did return with a deeper personal understanding of fighting the impact of war with weapons of compassion and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663333;"&gt;You have fed them with the bread of tears; you have made them drink tears by the bowlful. Psalms 80:5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t know what the "war" was about. It seemed another isolated distant catastrophe that little affects American habits of the high-life. The media didn’t give Bosnia half the airtime it gives to the Palestinian terrorists who lurk on Israeli streets. Whose singular acts may kill and maim 10 or 15, while there were 10's of thousands killed during the conflict in the Bosnia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663333;"&gt;God has turned me over to evil men and thrown me into the clutches of the wicked. Job 16:11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nationals we met, told of Serbian "Christians" who went into villages occupied by Muslims and practiced the atrocities of "Rape Warfare" (a brutal tactic supported and commanded by those in power of publicly raping women and children to create the removal of unwanted populations). They burned the houses down and painted crosses on the charred remnants. Mosques were bombarded and replaced by quaint chapels complete with steeples and crosses, the lives of the population and innocence of their children stolen through horrific circumstances I knew nothing about. Sound familiar? It did to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663333;"&gt;He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter Isaiah 53:7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The casualness of typical comments "those weren't REAL Christians" echoed with familiarity. I have heard this same statement said to Jewish friends who relate the horrors suffered at the hands of Nazi's and their cohorts. Explaining, “who are the REAL Christians” is just not that simple. I returned home asking why? “Where were You when these enemies were blaspheming Your name? How could You look away?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663333;"&gt;And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?"-- which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Mark 15:34&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What could I say to a woman, critically disabled and widowed by the war, crawling on the floor of her apartment with no water, no electricity? Within the walls made from the muddy hillside she cares for her five-year old daughter who stares vacantly back at the visitors bearing gifts. Can I say simply "Jesus loves you"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663333;"&gt;For God so loved the world … John 3:16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was confronted by a twenty-one year old Bosnian "How could you as a Christian stand by while our people were being systematically slaughtered? Why weren't you in Washington protesting, why weren't you here fighting for change to stop the awful carnage? Why?" My shameful response echoed with familiar World War II verbiage "I didn't know".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the conversation I realized this is not my battle - it is the Lord's. Bosnia is only one tragedy in a world full of cruelty, horror, shame and disgrace that has gone on since the fall of Creation. There is nothing new under the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663333;"&gt;What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously the compelling of God can take us into difficult circumstances, cause more questions than answers, coupled with the guilt of Western excess. I flew out of Sarajevo on a 747, and returned home to my 2 computers, down comforter and pillows to keep me cozy while I "process" what happened to Bosnia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet God is still acting on behalf of His creation. He still cares about human suffering and injustice. He is still compelling people all across the world to act with compassion, love and concern on behalf of nations and individuals. He is still motivating and calling people to repentance towards others. And the lives of those wounded by wars, haunted by shadows of things past can still be touched by our presence in the midst of their pain and the simple words "I'm sorry".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#663333;"&gt;So our eyes look to the LORD our God, till he shows us his mercy. Have mercy on us, O LORD, have mercy on us, for we have endured much contempt. Psalms 123:2-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19301165-113427277705762387?l=theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113427277705762387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19301165/posts/default/113427277705762387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://theforecastnewsletter.blogspot.com/2000/12/war-zone.html' title='War Zone'/><author><name>Poet of Purpose</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3244/675/1600/CJ.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
