I'm always encouraged when I hear of individuals' efforts to support Asia's Hope's efforts in rescuing and redeeming orphaned kids at high risk of exploitation. I haven't done a great job of communicating about these efforts, but I'd like to do better in the upcoming months.

I wanted to take a little time this morning to tell you about an exciting new initiative being led by a friend of mine, Petr Janousek, who is hoping to turn his year of training for the Ironman competition into $25,000 for the ministry of Asia's Hope!

Petr is a photographer, and I don't think he'd mind if I told you that he does not live an extravagant lifestyle, and does not have many financial resources of his own. That isn't stopping him from stepping out boldly in faith and setting an aggressive, God-sized goal for himself.

He's set up a website, http://www.imforhope.org/, and is actively soliciting sponsors for his race. With God's help and some hard work by Petr, this effort will provide significant tangible benefit to the ministry and to the kids and staff we support.

If you're interested in sponsoring Petr, I'd encourage you to visit his site. All donations will be tax deductible in the U.S. and Canada and will go directly to Asia's Hope.

If you have an idea for fundraising you'd like to run past me, or if you're aware of an existing effort you'd like to see profiled here, please call me at 614.804.6233 or email me john@asiashope.org. 

Together, we can change the lives of orphaned kids in Asia!

Driving home from the Bengals’ game with my son this weekend I saw a billboard that has bothered me ever since. It was big, red and Christmassy. And it featured a weepy looking white guy with long hair and an old-timey robe. The caption read, “I miss hearing you say ‘Merry Christmas’ – Jesus.”

At the risk of offending those who are deeply galled at hearing “Happy Holidays” from the cashier at Tim Hortons, I’m just going to say it: the so-called “War on Christmas” is pretty low on Jesus’ list of battle priorities.

Jesus didn’t come to establish a holiday, secular or otherwise. And whether the sign over the display at Target says “Happy Holidays,” “Seasons Greetings” or “Merry Christmas,” the real war on Christ’s coming and his agenda has precious little to do with the tinsel, the toys and the trappings of the holiday we’ve created.

In his own words, Jesus came “to proclaim good news to the poor…to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” He came to “destroy the works of the devil” and to “serve, not to be served.” When we turn Jesus into a poster child -- quite literally, in the case of the previously noted billboard -- for our political or social agendas, we risk doing damage to his agenda.

Have we ever considered that maybe Jesus hates Christmas – or what it has become to most of us – more than the “secularists” do? Listen to what God said to the prophet Isaiah regarding the festivals and holidays of His people, Israel:

Stop bringing meaningless offerings! 
Your incense is detestable to me. 
New Moons, Sabbaths and convocations— I cannot bear your worthless assemblies. Your New Moon feasts and your appointed festivals I hate with all my being. 
They have become a burden to me; 
 I am weary of bearing them. 
When you spread out your hands in prayer, 
I hide my eyes from you; 
even when you offer many prayers, 
 I am not listening. Your hands are full of blood! Wash and make yourselves clean. Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. 
Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; 
plead the case of the widow.

So what’s the point? Should we as Christians stop celebrating Christmas? No. But we should make sure that we don’t anger God and cause him to “hate with all [his] being” our holiday festivities.

Let’s stop moaning about how victimized we feel when someone doesn’t affirm our agenda, and let’s redouble our commitment to the victims at the center of Jesus’ agenda: the widow, the orphan, the oppressed, the unloved, those enslaved by their own sins or those of others. Anything less is “detestable” to God, a “worthless assembly,” a burden to God himself.

And as we sing these words, let them ring out as our manifesto, our battle cry against everything which truly wars against the agenda of Christ’s coming:

Truly he taught us to love one another, his law is love and his gospel is peace. Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother, and in his name all oppression shall cease. Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we. With all our hearts we praise his holy name. Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we, his power and glory evermore proclaimed.

Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.

And by all means, have a merry Christmas.

In an earlier post, I mentioned the plight of two young children living with their father, a homeless, disabled widower, who is unlikely to survive and is unable to care for his young son and daughter.

I was amazed by the number of emails I received regarding those kids, and was thankful for a number of offers to provide funds to help the kids come to Asia's Hope.

Thanks to the generosity of Grace Community Church in Fremont, Ohio, we were able to admit the kids into one of the homes the church sponsors, Doi Saket 3. My family visited DS3 last night and spent a few hours with the kids.

The little boy, Tep, and the little girl, Bow, are doing well. As well as can be expected.

They're a little confused, and stick very close to the director, Ajan Boon, and his wife, but are starting to play with the other kids. They even cracked a smile once or twice. 

Our director Tutu Bee reports that the children are impressed not only by the quality of the food, but also the fact that it keeps coming three times a day. These kids have not eaten well for much of their young lives, and something as simple as "three squares" makes a huge difference in their daily well being.

Please keep praying for the kids, their new family, their father and for their sponsoring church.

Ajan Boon with Bow.

Now Tep has a mom to care for him.

Tep, some of his new brothers, and friends around the campfire

It's finally raining in Thailand. The drought has made it impossible for farmers in the mountains to plant their rice, so we're expecting much higher food prices this year. So while the rain is badly needed, it may end up being too little and too late.

It has, however, seemed to cool things down a bit. Today's high will be 93, but right now it's only 84. That's good. Given the tolerance for hot weather here, the kids at our orphan homes will probably be breaking out the heavy blankets any night now.

My family is doing well. I'm a bit under the (ever-changing) weather, so I'm staying at the hotel with Chien while Kori, Pak and Xiu Dan head out with our director Tutu and ministry advisor Mike to visit a Lahu village. Some of our kids are Lahu, and most came from very poor villages like the one my family will see today.

This week we've been joined by Tim Crandall and Eddie Hastings from Chet's Creek Church in Jacksonville, Florida. Tim is the director of the church's adoption ministry, and Eddie is the Pastor of Administration. They're here to check out Asia's Hope and evaluate possible partnerships.

I can't tell you how thankful I am for Chet's Creek. It's my parent's church, and it has literally been a Godsend for them. My mom, dad and little sister moved to Florida a few years ago, and were embraced by Chet's, a loving and energetic faith community with a vision that extends beyond north Florida to the ends of the earth.

Tim and Eddie joined me and my family this week to visit our Wiang Pa Pow campus, aka "The Farm." This campus houses a widows' ministry, and orphan home and a number of agricultural and micro-enterprise projects. We're currently working to pay off the land completely, and have made great strides thanks to amatching grant by the Florida-based Van Voorhis Family Foundation. Eventually, The Farm may house as many as three more orphan homes.

While at The Farm, we killed a pig in the Karen tribal tradition (Tim did the honor, spearing the pig in the heart), played with the children for hours on end.

Tim, getting ready to do the deed.

The least gory picture I can post.

It's been such a blessing to hang out with Tim and Eddie, and I'm looking forward to visiting the church again in October.

Every day here is full. Maybe a bit too full. But there's so much to see, so many kids to play with, and so much to eat. I'm enjoying everything, even the rain.

The bamboo Hilton.Eddie making friends with the kids at Wiang Pa Pow.The orphan home at Wiang Pa Pow.

One of the widows harvesting longan fruitThe orphan home at nightLate night songs

Widows and staff sing "Blessed Be The Ties" in Karen languageThe kids at Wiang Pa Pow get ready for schoolTim tries on a traditional Karen tribal vest

Thus far, our time in Thailand has been a bit of a blur. We're staying in Chiang Mai, just steps from the Night Market.

In Cambodia, I had a car, and was able to drive myself and my family whenever and wherever I chose. I have no car in Thailand, and much of my time is spent inconveniencing staff members who graciously cart us back and forth between the city and our orphan homes in (only relatively) nearby Doi Saket.

Over the past few days, we've experienced the best and the worst Thailand has to offer. Among the "bests" are the food, the scenery, our staff and our kids. All are wonderful.

On Saturday, Chien and Pak played soccer with the older boys from Doi Saket 1 against a group of local kids. It was great to see them bonding with the Asia's Hope teens in such a joyful, kinesthetic way. On the playing field, language and cultural barriers melted away; my boys were fully accepted as part of the team.

Watching the kids from Asia's Hope -- especially the older ones who have been in our care for a few years -- you wouldn't know that these kids were once orphans, that they've suffered immeasurably from the loss of their parents. They're silly, they're studious, they're satisfied, they're sulky. They have hope for the future, but at any given time, they're preoccupied with their regular, mundane things like music, sports and homework. In short, they're like adolescent boys anywhere. 

You know, I define "hope" as "the promise of transformation." Asia's Hope works hard to make and then deliver on that promise to kids whose options have run out, kids who, without our intervention, will live a life of despair. Unless someone steps in to change things, these kids will live out a predictable, yet devastating script. No education. No medical care. Insufficient food. A lifetime of grinding poverty and a high likelihood of prostitution, drug abuse, disease and even slavery.

After church on Sunday, we saw one such example of despair. We met a Sgaw Karen man and his two children, age 3 and 5. The man had been in a motorcycle accident that left him with severe internal injuries, as evidenced by the huge scar on his abdomen, head injuries and facial paralysis. An orphan himself, this man had always lived on the brink of poverty.

His accident left him unable to work, so his wife left him for another man, moved far away and abandoned their children. He has no property, no home and no way to feed his children. He came to Asia's Hope to see if we would take his children and give them a chance to survive. He will probably have to beg for a living, and is likely to die an early death.

Today, those kids stand on the brink of hope and despair. If we are able to find a place and enough money to support these kids, they will survive, and will have a bright future -- an education, a loving and secure home, and access to every advantage God's people can provide them. If not, they face almost certain disaster.

It almost sounds like melodrama or overstatement. But it's not. It's simply way things are for so many people in this world. No future. No transformation. No hope.

And it's not okay.

And at this point in the blog post, I'm not sure what else to say. It's just not okay.

I'm so thankful that we get to be a part of providing hope for so many kids. But every time I start feeling content with what we've accomplished at Asia's Hope, I'm reminded of how much work there is left to do.

As the song says, "Little ones to him belong. We are weak, but he is strong." May God prove his strength in the lives of these children and the untold thousands just like them.

Well, we're in the Phnom Penh airport waiting for our flight to Thailand. We spent the last few days in Phnom Penh wrapping up our affairs and taking a few precious hours to reconnect and then de-connect from the kids and staff at our four Prek Eng orphan homes.

Last night was full of more hard goodbyes. Perhaps the most difficult was Prek Eng 2, which is sponsored by my home church, Central Vineyard in Columbus, Ohio. These kids were among our first in Cambodia, and have a special place in my heart. I know all of their names, and can tell you about each of them. I miss them whenever they're not around. I feel responsible for each of them, pastorally and parentally.

We ate dinner with the staff and then stuck around for another hour or so to hang out with the kids. We played soccer and danced, trying our best to ignore the obvious fact that we would be leaving. At about 8:30, we announced to the kids that it was nearly time.

The kids and staff gathered around, hugging us and clasping our hands. "Please don't go," some of the younger kids pleaded. It took about ten minutes to get about 20 feet from the front of the house to the gate. About half way there, the tears began to flow. 

Srey Ka, an older girl who had become Xiu Dan's special friend, knelt on the ground and buried her head in Xiu Dan's shoulder. Soriya turned her face and sobbed. By the time we reached our car, even the oldest boys were crying. Don't tell anyone, but I think my boys were as well.

Sheesh. This is hard.

I've never been less ready to leave Cambodia. My family has had such an amazing time here. I don't want to leave the kids. I don't want to leave Sony and Savorn. I don't want to leave the staff.

But Thailand -- and a lot of work there -- awaits. I know that I'll be ready to embrace that portion of the trip just as soon as we land and are greeted by our staff. I love the kids in Thailand immensely. I may just need a few hours to recharge my emotional batteries. They're seriously drained.

Emotionally speaking, yesterday was probably our most exhausting day thus far. We spent the entire day saying goodbye to each child and staff members in our six Battambang orphan homes.

It's strange. When Asia's Hope was a much smaller organization, I felt a strong connection with every single child. At one point, I knew the name of almost all of our kids, and I could rattle off biographical details for most of them.

Now that we have more than 500 kids, I'm way past that. I don't even know all of our staff members by name. I know -- and feel close to -- all of our directors, but there are many, many people in our organization that I can place visually, but know very little beyond that. 

When we had two or three orphan homes, three weeks was enough time to really dig in deep with all of our kids. Now that we have seventeen, three and a half months isn't nearly enough. That said, I feel a profound affection for all of our kids, and it's clear that it's mutual.

These kids are so loving, it would be difficult to not fall in love with each one. Still, there are some kids with whom I feel a much deeper bond. In some cases, it's for obvious reasons: I've known our first kids for 8 years. I know them by name, and I think of them on an almost daily basis. With some of the others, I'm not sure why I've connected with them, but I have. And leaving them is really quite painful.

The team from Western Reserve Grace Church says goodbye to their kids from BB5 in the lobby of their hotel

My wife Kori, and each of my kids have made special friendships on this trip. My daughter Xiu Dan sleeps with the picture of one of the girls every night. I think she'll pray for her, well, forever.

So, when we were making our rounds, saying goodbye to each of the homes, there were some very emotional moments.

We arrived at the Battambang 2 home and spent an hour or so playing with the kids before announcing that it was time to say goodbye. I made a short, informal speech, encouraging the kids to study hard and listen to their parents; I promised that we would return as soon as possible, and assured them of our love and commitment to them.

As we rose to leave, a group of young girls who had latched quite tightly to Kori during our trip to Battambang, gathered around her to give her a hug.

One girl, Nisa, began to cry. Real tears. She threw her arms around Kori, and sobbed. Soon, the other girls by Kori's side began to cry, their chests heaving, tears soaking Kori's shirt. For about five minutes, Kori just stood there and held the girls.

Kori and Nisa

Then the children by my side began to cry. Srey Rath, who was my constant companion on my visits to BB2, bit her lip, looked me in the eyes, and then looked away as tears swelled in her eyes and then rolled down her face. Then Srey Horn, the responsible little girl with the curious, serious smile started to quiver, trying and then failing to keep the tears from falling.

For a minute or two, I thought I was going to lose it completely (thankfully, I held it together until later in the evening). I wondered if we would actually be able to leave. After all, we had three more homes to visit that evening.

When we finally were able to pull ourselves and our vehicle from the kids, the gate, the driveway, we waved and until we were out of earshot and beyond sight. "We love you! We miss you! God bless you!" we called as we drove down the dusty road toward the main road leading out of Battambang.

Intense stuff.

I've spent some time today reading through these kids' stories.

Srey Horn? Her father was a soldier. He died of malaria. Her mother died of heart problems. As an orphaned child, Srey Horn worked every day in the fields, trying to scratch out the very barest of existences. She's still skinny today, but when she first came to Asia's Hope, she was a skeleton.

Nisa? The one with the dimples? She was one of nine children. Her father was disabled from an injury he received as a soldier. Her mother died of a heart attack. She too missed most of her early childhood, scavenging for small fish and crabs to sell at the market for a few pennies a day, never enough to provide the food or clothing she needed.

Srey Rath's father was an abusive drunk, who beat her mother so badly that she ran away, leaving her kids with a dad who could barely take care of himself, much less two hungry kids. She saw and experienced violence on a daily basis until her father abandoned her to live with a poor relative who could never provide sufficient food, clothing or medical care.

So I don't really know what those tears really represent -- what other pain is lurking behind the surface -- but I do know that these kids love us, and feel loved by us. And I know that when we go away, they hurt. I'm both flattered and heartbroken by their extravagant affection, and I take their tears with me wherever I go.

I can -- and must -- leave. But I can never stay away. I'm already looking at my calendar to see when I can possibly make it back.

In a few days, we'll do this all over again. We never really said goodbye to the kids in Phnom Penh, because we knew we'd be returning before finishing our Cambodian adventure. I think I'll need a couple of days to prepare, and quite a few more to fully recover. 

Well, if the sabbath is supposed to be a day of physical rest, this one didn't quite hit the mark. If, however, the sabbath is intended as a day to reflect on God's goodness and blessings on us, this Sunday was one for the books. Xiu Dan, Pak, Chien and I got up early (leaving Kori at the hotel to recuperate from her intestinal difficulties), picked up our friends Zach and Eve, and headed to the main Battambang campus for a church service with the kids and staff from all six orphan homes.

Xiu Dan and Srey Neth

We were engulfed by a sea of clamoring kids as soon as we stepped out of our car. Chien and Pak were each led off by a group of boys their age, and Xiu Dan was quickly found by Srey Neth, her best friend from BB1, who held her and watched her for the next few hours.

Teams from the Westview Bible Church in Montreal (sponsors of BB1) and the Western Reserve Grace Church in Macedonia, Ohio (sponsors of BB5 and BB6) joined the congregation -- it was certainly a full house. We barely fit in the large, open-sided multipurpose structure, even with kids sitting on the walls and in the aisles.

The service started with a couple of songs led by the band, and then continued for another 40 minutes or so with songs and dance numbers performed by each of the orphan homes. Even BB6, our brand new one, got in on the action.

Having found out only the night before that I would be preaching, it was not my finest moment, oratorically and expositorily speaking. I preached, nevertheless.

I spoke from Ephesians 1 about God's plan for their lives, which had been set in place even before their birth. This plan, I told them, was for them to be loved and adopted. I emphasized the permanent nature of adoption, and told them that they are no longer orphans: they are dearly loved children with a family and an inheritance.

After church, we grabbed a quick bite to eat, and then headed off to the water park. We rode in vans, on motos, in tuk tuks and in the back of trucks. When all the kids had arrived, we filed into the pool area, and had a baptism service. Savorn and I each baptized about 20 kids. It was a beautiful thing.

The kids and staff prayed and sang while Savorn and I did the dunking. After it was all finished, the signal went out, and all the kids jumped screaming into the pool. For what seemed like days (but was probably only about four hours) we played and played, riding the water slides, splashing, dunking and swimming. When it was all over, we lumbered our sunbroiled bodies back to our vehicles and returned home.

For my family, that meant going back to the Khmera hotel to change clothes, eat quickly and pick up mom, who was feeling some better. 

We then headed out to main Battambang campus, where the older boys dragged out the brutally loud "Vutha" brand speakers, and all of the kids and staff began to dance to Cambodian hip hop and pop music.

The dancing started out slowly -- we all kind of walked around in a circle under a lighted pole, waving our arms in circular motions inspired by traditional apsara dancing. Over the next hour, the sky darkened, the rain drops started, and the whole affair was moved into the large shelter used for church.

Soon, the skies opened up, pounding the metal roof of our shelter. The obvious remedy was to turn the music up even louder. So, for the next three hours, hundreds of kids danced, jumped, shrieked and squealed. Potential for permanent hearing (and possible I.Q.) loss aside, the rain, the noise, the dancing was a recipe for a fantastic time.

At one point near the end of the evening, Savorn stopped the music and made another announcement which brought the screams to a new, almost unthinkable volume: the kids were told that it was time for... Ice Cream!

The dancing died down for a while as the kids received and ate their ice cream and grilled eggs (a combination you just have to try), but came back in full force to finish the evening. By the end of the night, many a child, staff member and visitor had run out of gas, and for the last two or three songs, there were more people sitting than dancing. 

Those who stayed on the floor, however, were as frantic as before, but the dancing was also accompanied by tears -- this would be the last chance for the Westview team to see their kids before departing for home. I received an email from John DeWit, one of their team members about 24 hours later -- he still hadn't stopped crying.

Not exactly a day of rest, but we all went to bed exhilarated and exhausted, overwhelmed by God's love for us and for his kids. Wouldn't want to do it every day, but wouldn't miss the opportunity to do it again. Not for the world.