As I write these words I am nine months pregnant. I waddle more than a little bit when I walk the road in front of our house, I wake up a couple times a night to pop tropical fruit-flavored Tums, and I unabashedly cash in on my husband’s standing offer of limitless foot rubs. My back hurts. I feel like an aquatic mammal. I’m anxious about the next few weeks of my life and giving birth in a country where I have never before had a baby.
Rendering Scripture with Refugees in America
“Jonah’s story is my story.” Reuben set down his glass of tea and peered intently into my eyes as he continued. “I was forced to leave my country to go to a place I didn’t want to go. I left behind everything I knew in search of a new life. And I have never been back home.”
Rediscovering the Goodness of God
“I was trying to figure out if God was still good.” Denise shades her eyes from the sun and watches me. I brush ants off my legs as I scribble the statement on my yellow notepad. It looks ugly scrawled across the page.
The country was spiraling into civil war with no end in sight. We didn’t know when we could return—maybe never. Hadn’t God brought us to the Vidilaka? How were they going to get God’s Word?
A Story, A Song, A Prayer
“They didn’t tell us where we were going. It was just short, fast, get out. We didn’t think we’d live through it. The old shepherd paused, his rheumy eyes distant, remembering. His wife came in bearing a pot of steaming coffee, which she poured into the cups of Yevgeniy and the American guests. The room where they sat was furnished simply yet comfortably, its walls adorned with colorful embroidery stitched in centuries-old styles. The table in front of them was laden with a mouth-watering spread of breads and cheeses. Next to them lay a beautifully bound Bible, its gold lettering still shiny new. The shepherd encouraged his guests to enjoy the tasty fare, then leaned back in his chair to resume his story.
The man stood screaming at her. Judith could feel his rage and hurt as he yelled his refusal. “No! No forgiveness for what they have done to our people!” He was one of eight local pastors gathered in an open tent on a hot, dusty North African plain. They were there to participate in a trauma healing workshop led by Pioneer Bible Translators missionaries. The workshop draws on stories of pain and redemption in Scripture to show people in crisis that God can heal them.
Gabriel was the one who finally uprooted the magic plants. “You shouldn’t have done that! You will suffer consequences! The spirits will make you pay for defying them!” The village sorceress condemned his actions.
There are still places on Earth where no one has ever heard of Jesus.
Last year I visited a place where people don’t know the name of Jesus. I don’t mean that they don’t “know Jesus.” I’m saying they don’t know that He exists at all.
The Price a Bibleless People Group Chose to Pay for God’s Word
“When i think about the Mum people,” a Pioneer Bible Translators missionary reflected, “I think of the Parable of the Talents. Compared to other people groups in Papua New Guinea, the Mum are like the man who received only one talent. But unlike him, they refused to bury it.”
Using heart-language Scripture, the Aruamu start a Bible college to train missionaries to serve unreached people groups across the South Pacific.
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We believe the single greatest way we can help a hurting world is to give them God’s Word.
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