Day 127, Mumbai

Yesterday was a packed day. Pastor Ashish came to lead me and three girls into the red-light district here in Mumbai. We said a quick prayer, and headed out. We arrived and followed the pastor through the slum areas to where the prostitutes were working. I didn't know what to expect, I had a very brief orientation to the redlight district. We walked a few hundred yards into the slums and then I saw them. Lined up were about 25 young women, some looked to be 15 years old. They all wore bright red lipstick, this is what set them apart as prostitutes. He walked through them and ducked into the narrow alley behind them. We followed close behind. After a short walk down the narrow alley we came to an open spot between the shacks where a blanket was spread on the dirt floor and several men and women sat playing cards. He spoke to them in Hindi, shook their hands, and then turned and led us through a maze of back-alleys. As we stepped over the holes filled with sewage and over the trash, trying not to touch the walls that closed in on us on both sides, I began a simple prayer....

"Just one today Lord....thats all I ask....I want to see at least one soul added to the Kingdom today....please...."

We made our exit from the back-alleys and into the open streets of the slums again. We followed Pastor Ashish to a shack where a woman sat crouching down washing clothes in a bucket. She stood up when she saw us approach and greeted the pastor warmly. After shaking our hands she turned and motioned for us to come in. I kicked off my sandles and ducked into the little house, we all sat and Pastor Ashish spoke to her for a few minutes telling her who we were. We sat silently, not knowing anything about this woman or why she greeted the pastor so warmly. After a while he told us that she had come to know the Lord six years ago. She used to be a prostitute also, but when she was saved she gave this up. She put her children in a christian school and never went back to prostitution. We shared with her a little bit about our testimonies. She got up and left and came back with cold drinks for us all, by the look of the shack we sat in I knew this was a sacrifice. She told us that her 12 year old daughter spoke fluent English and would be home shortly. When her children came home we sang some songs and had a good time of fellowship with them. From there we went to another house to pray for some other people. As we popped back onto the street we made our way back to where we first saw the prostitutes.

On the way a man called the pastor's name and we stopped. While he spoke to the man some prostitutes came walking up to where we were. They didn't speak English, but were interested in the three girls I brought with me. They smiled at them and shook their hands. As me and the pastor finished talking to the man and the boys that had gathered we turned and he translated for the girls. After a few minutes one of my girls asked if she could pray for one of them....the girl let her. Then, one by one, they all sat down as my girls prayed for them. No salvations, but they appreciated the prayers. We said goob-bye and continued. When we reached the area where we had first seen the red lipstick we ducked down the alley and went to the blanket where they sat playing cards. We didn't know who they were, but they seemed to have built some kind of relationship with the pastor. Moments later we all filed into one of the makeshift houses and they all followed us in. We were told we could sing one song, and then I had an opportunity to speak for a few minutes. I spoke about how God provides a way out when He invites us to follow Him, He always meets our needs when He calls us to Himself and His will for our life. After Pastor Ashish translated for me, he said we could pray. There was only one man in the "house". I laid hands on him as I prayed. Afterwards we all went outside and took a seat. One of the women, who seemed to have some kind of authority brought out cold beverages for us. The man I touched while I prayed walked up to me and Pastor Ashish and told him that he wanted me to pray for him, to pray for healing because he had asthma. The Pastor told the girls to talk with the women on the blanket, one of them spoke English. We sat down with the man and continued talking, I spoke of stories of healing to build the man's faith. After a minute of translating, the man said something and the pastor looked at me and said,

"Stay with me a moment, I am going into Hindi for a while to witness to this man."

I started praying in the Spirit. The man's eyes were moist. I didnt know what the pastor was saying, but something was taking place. A few minutes later the man held out his hands, palm up, and bowed his head. We held his hands and the pastor walked him through the sinner's prayer. After we prayed for his healing, the pastor started speaking to the women. They pointed to a building next to them which stood out. It was concrete and two stories high. We walked up to the second level and entered on of the rooms. Fresh paint was still on the walls.

"Okay, let me tell you why I brought you here, I wanted to get you out of their hearing range. All of those people down there are pimps. The man we prayed for was a pimp, the women who brought the drinks, all of them. They manage the girls we walked past. They are building these rooms for 'business'. I want us to walk through these rooms and declare them for the Kingdom."

He continued talking to us about all that was happening and I just stood there in amazement. We were totally clueless as to what was actually taking place that day. The man surrendering his life to Christ, praying for them all, them bringing us drinks....all of it, to pimps and prostitutes in the heart of the redlight district. Unbelievable. We walked through the rooms praying. When we finished and were about to leave, the head lady who was in charge came to us and had us enter one of the rooms. She said something to one of the girls who darted off after receiving some instructions. She said something else to one of the men who also turned and walked off. A few moments later the man returned with chairs, and the girl had sent a little boy in with 6 cups of chai tea. We sat there and talked as we sipped our tea....we had done our work well, and left having accomplished something.

Let me tell you all, always pray with faith, and never think you have to have elaborate, long, detailed, well thought out prayers. The Lord knows what is in your heart before you even say it. He answered my simple prayer:

"Just one today Lord....thats all I ask....I want to see at least one soul added to the Kingdom today....please...."

We got a ride back to the hostile and the pastor asked to use the bathroom in my room. He walked out, "Hmm, you guys not have any water?". I smiled. "It comes and goes, you never know when to expect it". He said goodbye and left. I sat on my bed going over what happened that day and then met up with the group to go to dinner. We ate with a mission team from Germany and then came home. I began to walk up the stairs when I noticed it looked like it had rained.....inside.....

As I got to the second floor I saw several men standing at the door with mops and big squeegees....The door was wide open. I walked in and there were more men, mopping the floor. My suitcase had been moved to a chair, and all of my books that were on the floor were soaking wet and lying open under a fan. I smiled, not knowing what had happened.

"Tap...tap was on" one of the men laughed as he pointed to the bathroom.

One of the girls who had stayed behind told me that someone had left the tap on in the bathroom and it flooded the whole room with 3 inches of water. It had tile floors and baseboards, so there was no damage, save my personal belongings. The men finished up as I looked to see what had been ruined. My suitcase was soaked, along with all the clothes in it, but they would dry. I looked at the books to see which ones had been safe and which ones had be ruined. The books on the floor were the ones I had read the night before, the ones on the bed were the ones I had read that morning.....this was the determining factor to see which ones were wet and which ones were dry. Books that were ruined:

1. The Message Bible
2. The Complete Evangelism Handbook
3. My Upmost for His Highest
4. The journal I had kept during my first three months overseas.
5. The Screwtape Letters

I took a hairdryer to the journal and it turned out okay, It has a leather cover which prevented the water from completely reaching all the pages. The other books are goners.

Two Bibles (NISB and NKJV), my journal from the second half of my outreach here, another book I am halfway done reading, and my guitar survived the flood. I began pulling the clothes out of my suitcase so I could set them out to dry. This is when I saw the white cord to a pair of headphones....."Lord...no..."...I pulled them and sure enough, on the other end of the cord was the 80GB iPod my brother bought for me before I left. I just smiled....i couldn't believe I smiled....I went and plugged it in and tried to turn it on....nothing. Its gone. My teammates seem to be having more of a hard time with my loss than I am. I can't be upset, or even disappointed. I am seeing God do amazing things here, and if I lose my laptop to a freak electrical surge and my iPod to a flood, so be it, I would gladly give it all to reach these people. Im sure I can get the iPod replaced when I get home. It is probably under warranty.

Cost of a laptop: $500-$1500
80GB iPod: $350
Four books: $100
Seeing a pimp surrender his life to the Lord: Priceless.

Oh yeah....I know everyone is wondering who left the tap on right? Pastor Ashish. lol! Oh well. He didn't know.

Day 125, Mumbai

I was informed that the taxi with the pastor would arrive at 3:00pm. Today I would be preaching in the slums. I spent the morning in my room preparing my sermons. I was told to prepare three: One for non-believers, one for new believers, and one for those who have been walking with the Lord for years. Sharing the Gospel for new-believers didn't need any work, and I had knew what I wanted to say to new-believers, but what about those who have been "saved" for years? I decided to start reading and allow whatever pops out to be my message. I read through Acts about Paul's conversion. The way Jesus appeared to him....they way He sent him to the Gentiles, but didnt give him a message to preach. All He did was reveal Himself to him, He began a relationship... Here was my sermon. I would preach about Paul's relationship with Christ, his devotion and passion for Christ....Paul was devoted to a Person not a cause. I had spoken a few days earlier about the Lord shining through our lives not our words, and would tie this into how we cannot have an effective ministry without an affective relationship with the Lord. I would encourage them to not focus on figuring out the words to say to their family and friends to lead them to the Lord, but instead focus on having a deep relationship to the Father through the Holy Spirit. I would then focus the message on living in the Spirit. This is what was important to me, that they understand the need for and the fruit of the Holy Spirit, and how it changes your life.

I put my nice clothes on, grabbed my Bible, and introduced myself to the pastor. From there we went to the slums. He told me that everyone I would meet today would be Christians. We walked through the trash and came to a little shack with a cloth hanging down acting as a door. I slipped my shoes off and ducked inside. I didn't know what to expect. There were about 10 Indian women in there. They shook my hand and all sat down. I crossed my legs and sat down. The pastor took a seat next to me. I was told that the boys had been sent to tell everyone of our arrival, and others would soon be filing in. They introduced themselves and the pastor did the same. As the others began filling the tiny shack one of the women began making tea over a little fire. One of the women began to sing, and others followed. Then a little boy, maybe 11 years old began to sing and play a drum....then he and a little girl, maybe 7 years old started dancing and singing songs....these people were worshiping! Really worshiping! I was choked up. The 20 people packed inside this house were filled with the Holy Spirit. They didn't need to be told about the importance of a relationship with the Lord, they had it! They knew it better than most!

I preached anyways, though I didn't talk as much on the Holy Spirit because they were living in Him. The little girl followed me to the other houses, playing with my hands as I spoke. The joy in that little girl spoke volumes to me. I walked away having learned more that I taught. Well, I gotta run again, no time in this shop

Day 122, Mumbai

I had a pretty interesting week. I have a limited time here in this internet cafe so I'll just post some highlights.

There was some kind of power surge or something while we were out and it fried my laptop....
I had my laptop with me because I am in charge of all our finances. So I lost everything on the computer, I sent a record of our accounting books in an e-mail a few weeks ago, so we are able to keep them, but the past couple of weeks accounting books are gone. Not to mention the 150+ list of foods I want to eat when I come home. I had been making it since I left home, all the food I have been missing out on. I'll schedule a time for a good cry later

The past four days have been amazing. We have been working with Delirious, Joyce Meyers, Brian Houston, and Hillsong at the "Festival of Life" here in Mumbai. We began at 6:00am and stepped off the train back home at around midnight...we did this for four days. We're worn out.

Two Knights at War

Here is an amazing story I found myself in this week. After 16 hours out in the heat at the festival, I was standing in line at the train station waiting to buy tickets for my team. One of the Indian guys had already taken them to the platform and I was alone. A young guy behind me recognized that I was from the festival and asked if I was only here to work with Joyce Meyers and Hillsong or if I was living in Mumbai. I was tired, hot, worn out, and didnt feel like talking. I answered him and looked at the 50+ people in line up ahead. I knew this would take a while. For the next 15 minutes his questions didnt stop. Question after question. I didnt get mad, but I was glad to walk away after I got the tickets. I found the team and the train squeeled up into the station. Here in Mumbai, the trains only stop for 10 seconds at each stop. During this time about 20 people move out each door, and 20 more people rush in. The door is about 4 feet wide....it is a mess! People push and shove and crawl their way into the train. Inside you have no room at all, you are PACKED in.

I was with two Indian guys who were missionaries here. The girls went to the girl's part of the train. After the people piled out I squeezed my way into the train and found out that the other two men had to go to other parts of the train to get in. I was alone again, and now I was sandwiched into this train....I was okay, I would just try to stand there and not let it bother me, I was too tired to care anyways.

"Where do you get off", the man behind me said in pretty good English.
"CBD"
"Thats over an hour away, you should try to push your way further in and wait for a seat."

I knew that, I was just too tired to deal with trying to squeeze past the million people to find a place to wait for a seat.

"Where are you from?" He asked

Not again! You gotta be kidding me! I knew I was going to be stuck on a train with another talkative Indian for the next hour. Lord, what are you doing?! I turned around to see the man. He was a little shorter than me, in his late twenties, clean cut, nice dress pants and button up shirt. He carried a laptop bag. I was a little caught off guard. You dont see people like that here. Most of them dont wear shoes, and rarely have anything resembling nice clothes. I told him where I was from. After five minutes I was a little bugged that he kept talking to me. He found out I was a Christian. Here is where I found out that he was also a missionary....an Islamic missionary. I couldn't believe it. Here I was, stuck on a train in the middle of India with a Muslim missionary....alone. I had no one to help me. I just looked the other way long enough to voice a prayer.

"Lord....just help...I dont know what to do"

I felt something change in me. The train stopped at a station and10 more people piled in, slamming me up against the wall at people shoved past me....this time I smiled. For some reason my attitude had changed. Now I was happy to answer his question, and now we were talking about religion.... Two knights....I was fighting for the Kingdom of Heaven, he was fighting for the prince of this world. He was very well educated. I could tell he had had these conversations before....I had never spoken to a Muslim about the Gospel before....I was completely uneducated in this situation. Halfway through the conversation I was met with questions that I answered....that I didn't know the answer to before that moment. I realized my mouth was being filled by the Holy Spirit. As I spoke to him about the love of Christ, sin, and Jesus' role as our Savior I looked up to see 8 or more men had formed a circle around us and were listening to our conversation. The goosebumps went wild. What was happening?! How is this possible? I didnt know what I was doing! But God knew what He was doing, and He was doing it through me. As I spoke of His love I placed my hand on his chest, and looked up to see the man next to him watching, so I did the same to him. His face lit up, he introduced himself and asked what my name was. Something in the Islamic missionary was confused, he had never seen anyone act like that im sure. Our stop came up...he had two more stops to go, but he got off anyway. He wanted to meet my team. I introduced him to the team, and we really had to rush to get into the hostel before it closed. He asked for my e-mail address and gave me his number.

I wouldn't believe what had just happened. Through the Holy Spirit I had held my own again a very well educated Islamic missionary....unbelievable.

I rushed into my room to get out a book on evangelising to Muslims and found out that everything that had happened, the smiling, the touching, the answers I gave, EVERYTHING was done perfectly to reach Muslims in the best way! I could not believe it. I seriously just couldn't believe it. Well, I have to go, this place is closing.

Day 118, Mumbia, India

The flight from Italy to Mumbai sandwiched me exactly in the middle of the aircraft. After we were in the air, our Italian stewardess walked down the aisle and asked me a difficult question. One I was not prepared to be asked. I prayed for divine inspiration. Proverbs 15:28 echoed in my ears, “The heart of the righteous studies how to answer”….

With slight hesitation I replied back, “I’ll take the fish”. Im not sure what kind of airlines that was, but they had two choices: fish or vegetarian. I couldn’t figure out which was more dangerous. Airline fish or airline vegetarian. Neither sounded very safe. I closed my eyes as I ate.

“Ding”

The seatbelt light clicked on and our captain’s voice crackled through the intercom, “We are beginning our descent into Mumbai, India. The local time is 11:24pm and the temperature is 1 million degrees Celsius. Please fasten your seatbelts and thank you for riding Horrible-Meals Airlines.” We parked our airplane pretty close to the airport, it just made sense. I grabbed my guitar and backpack and walked down the stairs. My skin pretty much melted off my body. Coming from Budapest, where there was one foot of snow on the runway, to India, where my sneakers melted to the pavement, was a big change. My hoodie and jeans became my least favorite clothes the second I left the plane. After we picked up our luggage we got a ride to our hostel. We are staying at the YMCA. No kidding…..seriously, we are staying at the YMCA. The real YMCA, not the gym everyone thinks of in the States. This one has a huge pool with no water, a basketball court, and some kind of open room for teaching karate or something. Then it has our “rooms”. Our room, I kid you not, is padlocked. There is no doorknob, just a padlock. We lucked out though…..tada! There is a ceiling fan in our room! So with the wind factored in, it stays pretty much under 999,980 degrees Celcius. Not too shabby.

I feel like I’m in some kind of Indiana Jones movie. We were informed about the monkeys in the streets and the cows. I will try to catch one of these monkeys at some point. Who knows what the girls will do when they wake and and try to take a shower and find a monkey tied up in their bathroom.

Me and Ruseball share a room again, because we are the only guys. This time we get to share a bed also…..yeah… Now, the bathroom. Let me tell you about our bathroom. There is a toilet….oooo…lemme tell you about the toilets in India and how you use them…This is wonderful. Okay, so you take off your clothes and squat over the squatty-potty, which is basically just a hole in the ground. After you do your business you reach for the toilet paper…..only to remember that they don’t use toilet paper in India. Surprise, welcome to India. You look to your right and notice a little thing sticking out of the wall with a knob on it, and under it is positioned a little bucket. You fill the bucket with water, and with the bucket in your right hand, you do this little awkward positioning dance and then trickle the water down your back and….”splash” it back up with your left hand…..very messy, pretty uncomfortable…basically you end up wiping with your left hand soaked with water. After twenty minutes of washing your hands and cursing the toilet and the little bucket that somehow managed to get your pants soaked by the little “waterfall” it made coming off your backside, you leave the bathroom. By this time you have to go back into the bathroom because your food has had enough time to digest and is ready to come back out.

Everything here has a price-tag on it. This is a nice change from Egypt where you have absolutely how much something should cost. The currency here is Rupees….Am I the only one who thinks of tiny red gems when they hear the word “Rupees”?

I feel like I get trapped in the old Nintendo game “Zelda”. You remember that game, the little guy with the green cap and sword who collected little red gems called rupees so he could buy more arrows or bombs. Every time I buy something I feel like I should pull out a little leather bag filled with these precious red gems…

I am writing on my laptop and will transfer all this to a card and take it to an internet café when I find one. Right now it is 3am and I’m jet-lagging real bad. Im supposed to get up in a few hours and I’m not even tired. I lay here on this bed, Ruseball fast asleep next to me. A ceiling fan oscillates above me, its hum drowns out the dripping sink in the bathroom. The warm air brushes down on me. A thin, rough, sack-like sheet is draped over my body….I cannot sleep!

I woke and skipped breakfast. Who is hungry at that time anyway? One of the girls said I missed an amazing Indian breakfast, they apparently really enjoyed it. I asked Anna what they had, she said, “Ohh, it was so good! It was this baked bread thing……”. I love these girls, Im so happy they are so descriptive. It sounds like toast to me. Whatever it was, it had a bread like appearance…and was baked….but wasn’t toast….hmmmm

We seem to have a neat little creature living in our room. I have tried to speak to him but he licks his eyeball and scurries away to another part of the room. I have seen him before but couldn't figure out where. Then it hit me! He is famous! He is the little gecko of the Gieco auto insurance commercials. He helps out with the bugs. I see a long term friendship blossoming here.

After breakfast we traveled to a lady’s house and had an “Introduction” to ministry in India. It is so interesting getting used to this culture….apparently everything offends them. You cant cross your legs, it is disrespectful. You must take your shoes off when entering a house (not that bad), you must eat anything a “host” gives you….no matter what it is, or you offend them. Guys hold hands…….I’m not going to say too much about this…other than…yeah, the Indian guys here walk down the street holding hands, fingers laced, full blown holding hands….with another guy…two guys…okay, Im done.

After our introduction we took an hour long train ride to another part of Mumbai where we visited a Mother Teresa Orphanage. As we entered we were greeted by many disabled kids. Through the past few months God has really been conditioning my heart to be thankful, genuinely thankful for things I see in life. I can tell you that I am so thankful for the work Mother Teresa has done in India. These women actually care for and love these kids. We made our way through the cribs filled with half-naked disabled children. One little girl came and clung to my side. I didn’t really know what to do other than love on her. After some time with the children we were taken to a room of adult women. All of these women are HIV/AIDS positive. We sat with them and prayed and sang songs. We live in a comfortable and completely different world, guys. You don’t even know what is out here, I cant even begin to describe it. We live so comfortably in our cozy homes and only see what’s around us and there is a whole ‘nother world out here that we only see on the commercials that bug us with the “For 33 cents a day you can save a child’s live and give them an education” speeches. Seeing that child on TV and holding her in your arms are completely different things. Its so easy to flip the channel….looking at the child in your arms, you want to give her the world she’s never imagined…the world you call “home”.

Im getting tired now, Im trying to beat this jet lag, so im gonna kick off to sleep. I’ll write another letter soon, but it will probably get posted the same time as this one. Hehe. Anyways, I love you guys and think of you often.

I am excited about India guys. I am learning so much. Today we are heading to a hospice for those who are HIV/AIDS positive. Our team is working on changing our programs to fit the schedules in India. Doing outreach in Egypt is completely different to India. We have to come up with a whole new program to fit this culture. We spent most of the morning working on new songs and ideas for the ministry here. Tomorrow we are going to be starting an amazing thing here. We are so stoked about it! We will join up with Joyce Meyers, Delirious, and Hillsong to do a four day outreach here! For four days we will work side-by-side with them to reach the Indians! What an opportunity!

Her family needed food and Prema’s father had few options. She was the eldest daughter, beautiful, and at eleven years old, more useful to the family away in the city of Mumbai. One less mouth to feed. One less body to clothe. Prema’s mother, with tears in her eyes, promised they would see her again. Promised they would buy her back wih the money Prema made every month – money her new guardian would send to the family. A promise made to Prema two and a half years ago.

In the city, Pema is not chained to a desk or forced to hunch over menial work for hours each day like thousands of other children throughout the developing world. Prema dances at a pole, bats her eyelashes at adults who have come from all over the world to watch her. She spreads her legs and moves her body to music, the way the other girls showed her. Girls kidnapped from their homes when they were younger or sold by their parents to the brothel.

As Prema waits to return to her family, other promised are kept. Her guardian makes good on the promise he made to her parents that she would be well looked after. Men, some older than her father, foreigners with unusual accents, take great delight in watching her dance on the stage. Then they pay to suffocate her under their heavy bodies. The guardian fulfills his promise that Prema would not be denied an education. He, along with his clients, tutor her in a whole new language with it’s own, intricate vocabulary. Along with the other girls in the brothel, Prema has learned to say once-foreign words: HIV, unwanted pregnancy, rape.

Prema dances at her pole, learning a new language. Day after day she tries to remember the sound of her mother’s voice, and waits to see if her parents will make good on their promise.

I closed the book I was reading, not believing that the story was true. This story comes from a book called “A Voice for the Voiceless”, a YWAM ministry. During our orientation we were taught about the child sex-slave industry here in Mumbai. Its not something that the world draws attention to, but it is a big problem here. There are so many poor families, so many who are hungry, so many who have little options. Selling their child into the sex industry is one that many families look into. Please pray that God will rise up and defend the little ones. Psalms 12:5 says, “Because of the oppression of the weak and the groaning of the needy, God will now arise”. Pray that God would raise up lawyers, moviemakers, and government rulers who will bring and end to this savage exploitation. Over 10 million children worldwide are engaged in some facet of the sex industry.

Day 113, Budapest, Hungary

I dont know how much I'll write, but I wanted to update everyone. Hopefully I will have time to go back and write about what all has happened this past week at some point. Right now I will just be brief. After Alexandria, we left for the compound in the desert. There were some pretty heavy struggles we unearthed in the compound, but God really pulled us through. We spend all most a week in the compound and then took a plane back here to Budapest. We arrived yesterday afternoon and will leave in a few hours now for India. It is an eight hour flight, which will carry me a total of thirteen hours ahead of those of you at home in Mt. Juliet. When you sleep, I will be wide awake. I have been told that India will be even more difficult than Egypt, and there will be a lot required from the team. I will be expected to buy new clothes because the clothes we have been wearing are not acceptable for ministry there. Special clothes are needed and I am praying that God will give me the money to purchase these clothes. As it stands, I am kinda broke, and actually, still owe money to cover my part of the fees for plane tickets and housing. I have been told that there wont be much internet access where we are staying, but there will be many internet cafes, so hopefully I will be able to keep you guys posted. I love you all and will be thinking about you!

Day 106, Alexandria, Egypt

Time for another update for everyone back home!



I'm sitting here on the second floor of a Starbucks I found in a hotel along the beach of the Mediterranean Sea in Alexandria, Egypt. I'm enjoying something American for a change, a luxury we haven't tasted in far too long. This past week has been difficult, but relaxing in a way.



On January 1st we traveled from the compound in the desert to an apartment on the coast of the sea. I was very surprised to find that our team, which is used to concrete rooms without heating or A/C and poor lighting with "lovely" bathrooms, would be staying in an apartment that looks out over the sea. The Lord really blessed us. Alexandria has been a breath of fresh air for us. After weeks in Cairo and Luxor, our team had been worn out by the constant stares and spiritual heaviness the cities provided so abundantly for us. Thank you Cairo and Luxor. Alexandria is a tourist city and the locals are used to seeing foreigners. In Cairo and Luxor we couldn't go ten feet without two or three men or kids trying to get money from us. The constant whistles and the never ending conversation of:



"Welcome to Egypt, would you like a carriage ride?"
"No thank you, we aren't going far"
"Only 5 pounds"
"No thank you"
"Only 5 pound, very cheep"
"No thank you"
"Please sir, very nice, very nice, good price, anywhere you like to go"
"No thank you, I will walk"
"Whats yer name?"
"Nick"
"Welcome to Egypt, come now, get in, only 5 Egyptian pounds, anywhere you like"
"No thank you, I am not going far"
"Yes yes, where are you from?"
"America"
"Welcome to Egypt, lucky boy, four wives, ooo lucky boy" (Pointing to the girls from the team)
"Yes, very lucky"
"Yes, only 5 pounds"
(here is where I started ignoring them....walked ten feet, and started the same exact conversation with another Egyptian man)



We haven't found any of this in Alexandria, no one begging to show us around, give us carriage rides or tell me how lucky I am to have 4-7 wives. After getting settled into the apartment we began to prepare for any kind of ministry we could find. There has been a local girl who has been helping us get into different places to do outreach. One thing that has been constant in our team is our own prayer times as a team. So many times this week I have had my own time in the morning where I read and pray and then we meet as a group and the verses I read and things I prayed about on my own somehow weaved themselves into what the group read in a devotion or we pray about the same thing. Its really amazing to see how God is speaking to each of us individually and giving us something to bring to the group.



We started our ministry with a trip to a girls orphanage.....



Our translator went with one of the other girls from our team to buy gifts for the orphans, and the rest of our team went straight to the orphanage. When we arrived we walked in and tried to start a program but found out that no one there spoke english.... This made things very difficult. It was an uncomfortable feeling being there. Something was stirring my spirit and I noticed it on the faces of the other team members also. There were many young girls who were playing with our hands and smiling, but I could tell they feared the older ladies that worked there..... I saw one of the women smack one of the girls on the back because she was laughing too loud.... The old ladies didn't want us there. We couldn't speak to anyone so we called our translator to find out where they were. For 30 uncomfortable minutes we tried our best to play with the girls, while one of us talked to our translator. We found out that the women at the orphanage didnt know that our team was a team of foreigners, and they didnt expect men to be there either. When our translator came with the bottles of bubbles and candy we tried to hand the girls the bubbles but the looked scared all of the sudden and wouldn't take them as they eyed the old ladies who were watching them. I stopped and said that if we were not going to be received here and weren't welcome that we needed to leave. The women told us that there were older ladies asleep upstairs and that we needed to leave because we were making too much noise and that we should come back the next day. We left, only to receive a call from the translator that evening to inform us that we were not welcome back at the orphanage.



From that orphanage we were told that we would be going to a boys orphanage. I had been asked to lead the outreaches here, to plan the program and get things going. As we rode in the van to the next orphanage I was going over what I would say and do, what dramas we would do, what message I would share, when we would give them presents and such. We pulled into the stone walls and got out. The first thing I saw was a mentally handicapped teen rocking on a special swing.....I prayed that this wouldn't be a home for mentally handicapped boys because my program and our dramas would be useless, we weren't prepared for this. God answered my prayer.....it wasn't a home for mentally handicapped boys, it was a home for old men and women....the "boys" at this "boy's orphanage" were the oldest "boys" I have ever met. They were all like 80 years old!



There goes the whole program I planned....woohoo....



Our dramas were designed for children, not old men. So we sat with them, prayed with them and shared a little bit about our lives and about God. When I went to go pray for one of the two handicapped teenage boys who were there I noticed his right hand was strapped to his wheelchair.... I tasted anger flicker in me for the first time since I left home. I quickly extinguished the anger and went to hold onto his other hand when I saw his sleeve slide back a little bit to reveal a deep rope burn on his left wrist, it was a big scar, half and inch wide and probably 1/8th inch deep. It was a scar but had fresh cuts in it also, telling me that they had been tying him down for a while. I felt my jaw clench as the anger burned violently in me. Instead of praying for healing, like we told the man in charge of watching them, I prayed against those men who were doing this to him and prayed for God to put him in the care of those who will treat with with love. Other things happened but I will try to keep these stories short.



Lemme try to be more brief. lol. We went and did a program at a church for youth yesterday, I spoke about sharing our faith and told the story of Jeremiah.



Yesterday our team talked about the prayer that Jabez prayed in 1 Chronicles 4:10, and prayed that God would bless our team. After our outreaches in the churches here we went out to grab something to eat. We were told that we were being taken to a nicer restaurant. It was indeed, what a blessing, an amazing break from the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and tuna and rice that has been making up our diet. At the end of the meal we all stood up to leave when one of the servers came up and asked us to be seated because the owner of the restaurant wanted to honor us..... No one knew or had seen the owner...we asked our guide if this is normal or has ever happened here before and she said it was very unusual... In a few minutes the servers brought several platters of fruits up to us! What a surprise! We ate them and the owner came to greet us and see how we were doing. He was very pleased to speak with us and learn our names and where we came from. After talking with him for a while we all stood up to take pictures with him and then got ready to leave when he told us to sit again for another surprise. We sat down and the servers brought up another desert of chocolate and vanilla pudding and jello with fruit in it! It was such a blessing! We had an abundance of food and desert last night. We asked for God to bless us that day, and He sure did!



One last story:
This morning me and Esther got up and made our way to Starbucks. About half a mile from the apartment I noticed a guy walking behind us. I didn't think anything about it.... Esther was on my right side and on her right was a stone wall. A few minutes later, mid-sentence, something made me stop and look up to see the man walking close to Esther, trying to squeeze between her and the wall to get past. Something made me immediately pull Esther to me to let the man pass.....He walked one step infront of us to the curb then stopped and turned around. We kept walking, I thought it was odd that he didn't continue walking, but shrugged it off. As weapproached Starbucks Esther said that her pants were ripped and pointed to a little tear, about two inches long, behind her right pocket. I said I was sorry, I never really know what to say when people say random things like that. Then she said that they JUST ripped, when the guy tried to pass her....This alarmed me, the stuck her fingers through the cut and said that she was bleeding a little. The man had cut her with a knife. We got to Starbucks and she went into the bathroom to wash up, I headed back to find the man. I knew that the other girls would come to Starbucks in a little bit and didn't want them to pass this guy. I could not find him. Esther was a little shaken up, but we knew this was an attack from the enemy to sow fear into our team. After every good outreach the enemy tries to shake us up, to scatter us and cause us to fear him. Me and Esther prayed into the situation and the Lord removed all fear from her and showed us more clearly the battlefield we are on here. The enemy will come against us but the battle is already won.



I am excited about our time here. We have more ministry here tonight and then we leave tomorrow to head back to the desert compound. Next Friday we leave Egypt and fly to Budapest for 1 day before heading to Mumbai, India. For those of you I haven't spoken to, I hope you had an amazing Christmas and Happy New Years!! I love you guys and hope to hear from you soon. Rebecca Pruett sent me an e-mail this morning with a verse I really liked and want to share with you all.


“These things I plan won’t happen right away. Slowly, steadily, surely the time approaches when the vision will be fulfilled. If it seems slow, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed.” Habakkuk 2:3

Thanks Rebecca! I love hearing from you all and, as always, look forward to hearing whats going on in your lives back home!

In Him,
Nick Huber