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Jesie Lyn Sacay “Owe no one anything except to love one another...” Romans 13:8 NKJV. “What are we going to do?” I asked my teammate, Alexa. “We haven’t been able to pay our last three months’ rent, and there doesn’t seem to be any hope of being able to pay this month’s either.” “I don’t know,” Alexa replied. “Normally we spend a portion of each day making tofu to pay for our rent. But during the COVID-19 lockdown, we haven’t been able to get any soy beans, and no one can come buy it anyway.” “Do you think we should take out a loan to pay it?” I asked. “Our landlord hasn’t demanded the money yet, but we’ll have to pay our back rent soon.” “Let’s pray about it first,” Alexa encouraged me. A few hours after we prayed about our rent situation, my phone rang. “Hi!” said the voice on the other end of the line. “This is the pastor’s wife. Are you home? Well, of course you’re home, there’s nowhere else we can go during lockdown! Just wait a while, pastor is on his way to visit you. He has something to give you!” We tried to wait calmly but we couldn’t help bubbling over in anticipation. We were like kids waiting to see what their dad had brought home after a long trip. Finally, pastor pulled up outside and we met him, careful to follow all safety protocols. “Jesie! Alexa! The brethren from the Besao church took up a collection to help those who are struggling during this pandemic. I know that you guys haven’t been able to operate the small business that you support yourselves with while you work as missionaries. Here, I hope this helps!” “Alexa!” I shouted when I opened the envelope after we went back inside. “Look! This is the exact amount of money that we need to pay the rent! There’s no possible way the believers in Besao could have known. God has worked a miracle to teach us to depend on Him, and not take out a loan.” “God has the perfect timing!” Alexa replied, grinning back at me. “And He definitely didn’t want us to borrow money!”
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Joel Padilla “He, however, shook off the creature into the fire and suffered no harm” Acts 28:5, ESV. It was the night of December 24. I was in my room, deeply engrossed with gift-wrapping. Earlier that day, Abel and I had been in town. We thought it would be nice to buy a few Christmas gifts for the Agta church members, so we purchased a few simple things. I also picked up some old newspapers to use as wrapping paper, since fancy wrapping would cost more than we could afford. It turned out we bought more gifts than I had expected, and it was going to take some time to wrap them all. After a while, I noticed my kerosene lamp growing dim. Living in the mountains meant we had no electricity. As I stood up to go refill the lamp, I felt something touch my foot. I ignored it at first, thinking it was just a piece of newspaper lying on the floor. Then I felt something squishy kissing my toes. Quickly I snatched away the paper covering my toes. There lay a viper! I was shocked. It was about a foot in length, but I had heard that even a small viper’s poison could be deadly. I saw holes in the newspaper it had been hiding under. It had been trying to bite me but had struck the newspaper instead. I screamed and we immediately killed the snake. We told the Agtas about it the next day. They said I was fortunate to escape. If bitten, the victim usually dies within an hour. Just think of it. God can use anything, even old newspapers, to keep us from harm! I thanked the Lord for His deliverance and for the gift of life that He has continually given us all. Loriven Blanco “Blessed is he who reads and those who hear the words of this prophecy...” Revelation 1:3 NKJV. Inggo was unclean! It all started when his brother got sick. His family did everything they knew to do, but soon he died. In Inggo’s culture, it is considered an abomination to touch the dead. Someone had to wrap the body and carry it to the grave though. It took all of his courage, but Inggo knew that he had to be strong for his brother and for his family. After the burial, Inggo was quarantined in a hut all by himself for one week. No one could visit him or even talk with him for the whole week. That is, no one from his own culture! When I found out that the quarantine restrictions only applied to Inggo’s own people I decided to take advantage of my being an outsider. “Inggo!” I called out, climbing up into his little quarantine hut. “How would you like to learn to read? Now that you’re stuck here, and I’m the only person that can visit you, this is the perfect opportunity!” Inggo took to the lessons eagerly, starved for social contact. In no time at all he had memorized the alphabet and the sounds that each letter made. After he was released from his quarantine, I had to be away for about two months. I was a little worried that Inggo might have forgotten what he had learned but I shouldn’t have been anxious. “Loriven taught me to read while I was in quarantine!” he told anyone who would listen. “See, when he left I just knew the letters but now I can read whole words.” When Inggo started attending church he found that reading along to a song was an even more fun way to improve his reading skills. It wasn’t long before he joined the Adventist church, and today he uses his reading skills to study the Bible and read it to others as well. Sometimes being a missionary can be a really hard work. Don’t jump into thinking it will be as easy as eating cake. But when you see people grow, change for the better, and ultimately fall in love with Jesus, it’s all worth it!  John Holbrook “Brother John, why don’t you do lots of public evangelistic series like all the other Adventists who came before you?” Joe, one of my church leaders, and I were driving back from taking a patient to the hospital. “Well,” I replied. “How did Jesus go about starting the Christian movement that spread around the world?” “Didn’t He preach to huge crowds?” Joe replied. “Yes, He did,” I agreed. “But, from what we read in Scripture, if you estimate and add up all the time Jesus spent preaching to crowds, He didn’t actually do it very much. Where do you read that Jesus spent most of His time?” Joe thought for a while. “I would guess He spent most of His time with the 12 disciples.” “That’s right. In Acts 1:21, 22, Peter mentioned that the disciples went everywhere with Jesus from His baptism until the cross. Jesus spent most of His time training them.” “What about the unreached tribes of Mindoro?” I continued. “How many years has the Adventist church been trying to reach them?” “I’m not sure,” Joe said. “But we have records of Adventists trying to reach our Tawbuid tribe for the past 30 years.” “Hmm, and how many churches did they plant among the Tawbuid by preaching public evangelistic series?” I asked. Joe was silent for a moment. Then a lopsided grin broke out on his face. “They planted one church in those 30 years. But it wasn’t an evangelistic series that planted it. It was an Adventist housewife who invited us to a meal every Sabbath and preached to us before we ate. She kept at it year after year until some of us eventually understood and believed.” I kept quiet while Joe thought some more. “The churches we have planted since you started teaching us were planted the same way. Our attempt at preaching an evangelistic series flopped. The villages where we have churches now are the ones where a missionary moved in and lived with the people while he taught.” “Well, Joe,” I concluded, “I think you just answered your own question!” ***Reprinted from Adventist Frontiers Sept. 2017. Used with Permission. Analine Torda The flooded river roared as it hurtled toward the ocean. Huge white-capped waves formed where the swollen current forced its way over submerged boulders. The water was rising by the minute, and we knew that if we didn’t get across now, our whole caravan of travelers could be trapped for days. The first carabao cart, pulled by a strong water buffalo, started through. The river battered the cart mercilessly as the buffalo struggled to keep moving. Even with several people pushing, they barely made it across. A few moments later I saw several men coming toward us from the other side. They were Aeta tribesmen, but much taller than ordinary Aetas. “Oh, thank God.” I silently thought. “The mayor must have sent soldiers knowing that people from the mountains couldn’t cross the strong current alone.” Two of the tall Aetas joined each cart, one on either side. Walking through the raging flood seemed effortless to them. A carabao calf faltered and started to be washed down river but one of the rescuers swiftly pulled it back. “It’s amazing how strong those men are!” I thought to myself. The two Aeta rescuers assisting me were carrying large white containers, and they talked to me as they walked. Their countenances looked so gentle, and they were cheerful and friendly. "Do you always do rescues like this, sir?" I asked one of them. He just nodded and smiled. After the last cart reached the far bank I climbed down to pat our carabao, named Inaro. Then I turned to thank the men. They were nowhere to be found. “Where are those tall Aeta men that rescued us and helped each cart across?” I asked the others in our caravan. They gave me a confused look. “What rescuers are you talking about? No one came to help us.” I felt goosebumps on my arms. “Those men were angels sent from God!” I exclaimed. “I talked with angels face to face! That's why they looked so gentle and mild. They were angels in the form of Aeta men! Thank you, Lord, for opening my eyes for a moment!”  Zudaline Edeg (a convert’s testimony) I joined the Summer Youth Canvassing team in Mountain Province late in the summer of 2019. I was excited! I enjoyed going from house to house, talking about our health and spiritual books. There were times when I was overwhelmed by shyness and fear, but it was still fun—at least at first. At the end of three days I realized that I had given away lots of tracts, prayed for many households, and introduced our books to many people, but I hadn’t had a single sale! Now, I understood that canvassing work is about witnessing to people and bringing them closer to God through literature. But deep inside there was also that desire in me for sales, big sales! After all, how could people know about our message if they didn’t buy our books? I felt discouraged and envious of my colleagues who were able to sell their books. Finally, Sabbath came. I shared my experience during testimony time and honestly told everyone about my frustrations. After I sat down, an elder and a former canvasser came over to me. Speaking kindly he said, “Iha (daughter), I completely understand you. I’ve been there, too. But just remember, the sales that you’re putting up in heaven matter the most.” I was taken aback. I remembered what Jesus said in Matt. 6:19-20 “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal" and Matt. 6:33 “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you” (NKJV). I realized that I was driven by the desire for sales and for money. God wanted me to understand, though, that the prayers, the tracts, and the smiles were more important than selling even one hundred sets of books. He could add the sales later if He wanted. And of course, He did want His books to sell, too. Sure enough, once I learned to set my mind and heart on what counts the most for God, He made sure that the book sales came in just fine. Great God, I thank You for the lesson learned, and for that experience with You. Anisha Muqtadir * Our whole island was running low on food. There weren’t any vegetables in the markets, and no one had any fish to sell because everyone was busy planting agar-agar. “I think I’ll go fishing,” my husband said one day, grabbing his fishing basket. “I have to find something for us to eat.” It was dark by the time Afraz returned that evening. His basket was half-filled with fish. “I had some trouble with the motor, that’s why I came back late,” he said as he got out of the boat. Taking the basket with him, he climbed up to our house. “How’s the catch, Afraz?” one of our neighbors asked. I knew that he was hoping to ask for some fish. “You know, I had completely filled my fishing basket,” my husband related. “Just as I started back home, though, a boat came by and a man asked me for some fish. I told him to take what he wanted. I had no idea that he would take half of my catch. He took all the big ones, too! Almost thirty fishes, I think. I was so surprised I couldn’t speak!” I could see how disappointed my husband was, so I tried to console him. “Just let it go,” I said. “Perhaps the Lord allowed you to catch those fish so you could have something to give him.” “Do you know who that man was?” our neighbor asked in hushed tones a couple of days later. “You know, the one who took half of your catch! That was a pirate! Pirates pretend to ask for fish from unsuspecting fishermen in the area where you were. If they like your boat or engine, they’ll kill you and take the boat. Or if you’re lucky, they’ll throw you overboard to see if you can swim home!” “Praise God!” I whispered. “The pirate only took our fish! I pray that Afraz’s kindness in quietly giving up the best half of his catch will touch the man’s heart. May God’s Spirit who stopped him from killing Afraz lead him to faith in God.” *The Muqtadirs church planted with PFM in a sensitive area. For their safety, we are using pseudonyms instead of their real names.  Suzette Tianzon It started out as just another day at the PFM office. For the last eleven years, I had served in the treasury department. I was what we call a, “home base missionary.” It was at the office that I met my husband, James, and it was there that we eventually got married. Every day I would leave our little apartment, walk to the office, participate in worship, and then crunch numbers on a computer all day. That’s who I was, and that’s what I did. That is, until the day it all changed. That day had actually been coming for a long time. Eleven years is a long time to spend crunching numbers on a computer screen all day. When James and I married we had almost nothing, but over the years our tiny apartment started to get choked with all the junk one tends to collect. After our daughter Shaliah was born, James and I seriously started to wonder if that was the kind of place we wanted her to grow up. There was nowhere for her to play outdoors, and you could hear the neighbors talking through the walls at night. So, I have to admit that the thought of moving out of the city and going as field missionaries had crossed our minds. When the day finally came, though, and PFM formally asked us to launch to Bakun as field missionaries, I was caught off guard. Really it was the logical place. Bakun was where James served as a missionary back before we were married. Who better could mentor the members there, and train them to start going as missionaries themselves to the nearby villages and towns? But beyond just logic, we sensed God’s leading in this move. I’ll be honest, the invitation of going to the field came as a surprise, and we were a little unsure at first. After all, I’ve never been trained as a field missionary. But as we prayed and considered, we recognized God’s hand at work. We chose obedience, and it was the right choice. And so that’s how it came to be that James, Shaliah and I moved to Bakun to serve as field missionaries. Life as a missionary has had its ups and downs. It is a lot different than sitting in front of a computer. But the joy and fulfillment of being an active part of people coming to Jesus is the greatest satisfaction anyone can ever know.
Mylene Dulnuan “Mama, where is Jesus?” our four-year old son, Jed, suddenly asked from the big basin in the corner where he was happily splashing in his bath. I stopped scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain in the laundry I was washing. The question caught me off guard as we hadn’t been talking about anything serious. “Jesus is in heaven,” I replied. “But He always sees us and He’s always with us.” “But Jesus isn’t here. I don’t see Him,” he retorted. “And where is heaven? I don’t see Him up there in the sky, either.” I was taken aback. How could I explain to him in a way that his young mind could understand? Seeming impatient for an answer, Jed asked again, “Where is Jesus, Mama?” “Son, even if you don’t see Jesus, He is always with you because that’s what He has promised in the Bible.” I don’t know if he understood or if he was satisfied with my answer, but he didn’t ask any more questions. Silently, I said a prayer that the Lord would somehow help my son to understand. Later that evening we went to the house of one of the believers for worship. While Melque, my husband, was speaking, I noticed that Jed was not around. Making my way outside, I saw that he was with one of his friends. Jed was walking toward a drain where it was a bit dark when his friend exclaimed, “Don’t go there. There’s a ghost there!” Jed just continued walking. “I am not afraid because Jesus is with me,” he replied. “You should not be afraid either because Jesus is here.” “Jesus isn’t here,” the little girl retorted, holding back. “He is sleeping.” “No, Jesus really is with us right here. Come on,” he urged, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Don’t be afraid. Jesus will protect us!” “Thank you, Lord, for hearing my prayer!” I whispered as I watched from the shadows. “You have made my son a little missionary, too!” Alexa Coniendo My family was concerned about my becoming a missionary. “Your health is weak!” they said. “How can you go to a remote place? Besides, your stipend probably won’t be enough to buy your medicine.” You see, for years now I’ve been taking maintenance medications that the doctors said I needed because of a health condition. I knew that my relatives were simply concerned for my well-being, but it made the choice to be a missionary difficult. “Alexa, you’re a college graduate now,” my friends said when I talked to them about being a missionary. “It’s time to get a good job and earn some money!” No one understood me, no one encouraged me. But when I talked to God, it was a different story! “Alexa,” He seemed to say to me that day when I asked Him yet again what I should do. “Alexa, how many times have I called you even when you were holding back in fear? What happened when you followed me? Remember the quote, ‘God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called.’” So I decided to follow God against all odds. So, on December 4, 2019, I joined PFM and traveled to Sagada where I began working as a missionary. If you’ve ever been to Sagada, you know that in everything you do here, and everywhere you go, you get plenty of exercise, cold fresh air, and sunshine. As I began working for the Lord, I found that I didn’t need my medications quite so much. In fact, after being here for nearly one year, I’ve been able to get completely off my old maintenance medications! Praise God! Not long after I arrived in Sagada, Taal volcano erupted, throwing tons of dangerous ash into the air around Cavite where I used to live. Almost as soon as the volcano calmed down, COVID-19 struck. Because of my health condition, I am one of the most at risk from both of these calamities. As I listened to the news, I realized that if I had listened to everyone’s warnings, and had stayed away from the mission field for fear of my health, I would have been right in the middle of the most dangerous place I could be for my particular health condition. How glad I am that I chose to fight my fears. How glad I am that I listened to God’s leading even when it went against my friends’ recommendations. How happy I am that I trusted the Lord with my life, my health, and my finances. How about you? Has God called you to be a missionary with PFM? Is something holding you back from God’s call? Don’t let anything get between you and God’s command to go and make disciples. If He has called you, He will take care of you! - The Editors |
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