This morning, I set aside a half hour to look through some of the bios of our newest group of kids, and to pray for each of them individually. This profile of a ten year old girl in one of our Battambang, Cambodia was on the top of the stack.

Her father was an alcoholic and physically abusive. This family did not have their own land but the neighbors made a small thatched house for them to stay in temporarily. Two years ago the father raped his older daughter. When the neighbors and her mother reported to the police official, he was convicted and sentenced to jail. Her mother cannot earn enough for herself and the five children. She has to work in the cornfields and none of her children go to school. They all work with their mother to collect corn, even though they are too young. She has 2 brothers and 3 sisters. We took three of them to live in our centre.

She lives with fear of her father because she knew that her sister was raped. Her family is very poor and does not have enough money for meals. Her income came from collecting corn in the field with her family. She worked hard to help her family.

Her mother had pity for her children because she did not want all her children moving with her from one place to another working without studying. She tried hard to find an organization or place that could help her children. She heard from another organization about the Asia’s Hope home in Battambang. She contacted the Asia’s Hope home, and was very happy to help her children have a better future.

Sadly, this story is not unique. Among the 24 children at this new home, you'll find kids orphaned by AIDS, alcoholism, imprisonment, mental illness, auto accidents and abandonment. Across our organization and among the hundreds of kids in our care you'll see every imaginable kind of suffering, and some you never even thought possible.

But, thanks to God's provision through the generosity of his people, each of these kids has a new start, a new chance for not only a beautiful childhood, but a happy, productive life.

My job is not easy -- although its certainly easier than that of our staff in Cambodia, Thailand and India who care for these kids on a daily basis -- but it sure is meaningful. What a blessing and honor it is to be able to get up every morning, head into the office and lead my staff, our boards and our partnering churches in asking "What can we do today to make life better for these precious kids?"

I'm thankful for every one of you who cares about these kids, for each person who prays regularly and gives generously. Be encouraged. As the psalmist wrote, "Oh, the joy of those who are kind to the poor! The Lord rescues them when they are in trouble. The Lord protects them and keeps them alive. He gives them prosperity in the land and rescues them from their enemies. The Lord nurses them when they are sick and restores them to health."

Dear friends and supporters of Asia’s Hope,

I’ve spent a good portion of the last twelve months just shaking my head in astonishment at God’s amazing provision. My prayers this year have alternated between “Help!” and “More, please!”

Despite a constant barrage of bad news — stock markets, unemployment, foreclosures — God has allowed Asia’s Hope to not just survive but thrive in 2011. Time after time, as seemingly impossible challenges rise up in our path, God has come miraculously to our aid. 

Charitable contributions are down across the board in the u.s., Canada and around the world. I know that times are tough; I have seen first-hand struggles among Asia’s Hope’s donors and sponsoring churches. 

I have also seen unprecedented — even heroic — responses to God’s call to join him in answering the prayers of orphaned children. In Mansfield, Ohio — a town with 13% unemployment — Crossroads Community Church raised $370,000 to clothe, feed and raise kids-at-risk half a world away. 

Young couples who have saved for years for a down payment on their first house have instead decided to use that money to help build a house for orphaned kids rescued from the streets of Cambodia.

Business owners who have cut their own salaries due to economic pressures have increased rather than decreased their support of the children they’ve grown to love through the ministry of Asia’s Hope.

Clearly, something is going on here that is bigger than any of us, something that can only be described as a work of God. And as I look forward to the formidable commitments we’ve undertaken — new homes, new staff, new kids, new countries — I pray this blessing from Psalm 41:1–3 (nlt) for all of those who work for, with and on behalf of Asia’s Hope:

“Oh, the joys of those who are kind to the poor! The Lord rescues them when they are in trouble. The Lord protects them and keeps them alive. He gives them prosperity in the land and rescues them from their enemies. The Lord nurses them when they are sick and restores them to health.”

It truly is a joy to serve these precious kids, and it is an honor for me, for my family, and for the staff of Asia’s Hope to partner with you in changing the world one child at a time. 

I pray that you’ll be encouraged as you take a few moments to review some of the blessings 2011 has brought.

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Check out this digital version of our 2011 year-in-review. If you would like printed copies of this material, please email us and we'll send them right out!

I’ve been angry all week. Angry and sad.

The allegations of sexual abuse of children by a former coach are awful – really horrific – but they aren't, in and of themselves, shocking. Kids, tragically, get abused all the time. What made this situation so scandalous is the impunity with which the accused acted, and the complicity of his powerful, well-connected and wealthy friends to cover up his crimes.

Today, thousands of Penn State fans are voicing their outrage on Twitter, on blogs and on TV news. They're furious not with the the coaches and administrators who coddled this abuser and enabled his abuse, but with the trustees of the university who have begun to clean house.

As far as I can tell, none of the people defending, excusing or otherwise minimizing the actions of Joe Paterno and his coaching staff have asked themselves the one most important question: "What if it was your child?"

What if your child had been brutally raped -- sodomized in a shower by a man you trusted to mentor him? And then what if you found out that someone had walked in, seen the abuse, and did nothing to stop it? What if you knew that an entire institution had turned a blind eye to the situation and continued to allow this man to retain all of his power, his prestige and his access to children?

I believe that no one who honestly grapples with this question -- no one who actually tries to imagine their own son, daughter, little sister or grandchild in the clutches of this type of monstrous abuser -- can walk away without having their innate, God-given sense of justice grievously offended.

If we can bring ourselves to empathy, we can bring ourselves to action.

I'm so thankful to be surrounded by men and women in Cambodia, Thailand, India, Canada, the U.S and Australia who have had the courage to ask that question: "What if it was my child?"

There are tens of millions of orphaned kids in this world at high risk of sexual and economic exploitation. These are the ones that Jesus called "the least of these, my brothers and sisters." It would be so easy to simply walk away, close our eyes and go on with our business. 

But Jesus modeled that empathy and demanded it of his disciples. He identified so closely with the suffering of the poor that he told followers, "If you give them food, you give me food. If you protect them, you protect me. If you turn your back on them, you've turned your back on me."

Today, a little boy on the streets of Phnom Penh is selling scrap metal. Tonight, he'll be selling his body.

So, what if that was your child?

I’m sitting at a coffee shop in the Calcutta airport, drinking a cup of tea and feeling all kinds of drained. I spent my last day in India sick and in bed at the hotel, so I’m wiped physically. Some kind of food poisoning, I think.

But it’s probably more than that. Calcutta is an exhausting place. It’s huge – the world’s 8^th largest urban agglomeration. It’s busy – traffic here makes Phnom Penh look like Warsaw, Indiana. It’s also desperately poor. Sure, there are people in Cambodia who are absolutely destitute. But in Calcutta, the sheer scope of the poverty is unbelievable.

The city itself seems stuck in the 1950s. The ancient infrastructure groans and sags under the weight of millions and millions of people driving, cooking and living on the gritty, grimy streets.

I took very few pictures in Calcutta. I think I used my big camera maybe once. The streets are so crowded, there’s no place to stand back and discreetly shoot photos. Plus, I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right to take photos of the families living under tarps, the urchins begging for food, the small children defecating on the curb. It all feels too invasive, at least for now. I settled for offering quiet blessings: “May God bless that child…may God give us the wisdom and the resources we need to help change this place.”

And that’s what really made the last couple of weeks in India so tiring. We spent lots of time brainstorming about future plans. We had a ton of meetings. Lawyers, pastors, potential ministry partners, board members… but we didn’t really have any of our kids to hug and play with. That makes a huge difference. In Cambodia and Thailand, we often have busy schedules filled with stressful conversations and hard work. But we also have the kids. One embrace from a child that we rescued erases an hour’s worth of stress. One song at an Asia’s Hope children’s home can compensate for a whole afternoon of traffic and travel. (Have you visited one of our homes? If so, am I right? Testify!)

We did have some great times here. Praying with our brothers and sisters in tiny churches tucked into the sides of mountains was an honor par excellence. Playing Karem with the kids from the Grace Children’s Home in Kalimpong was almost as great as playing Takraw with our kids at Asia’s Hope Hot Springs Home in Thailand. Visiting the Assemblies of God church in Calcutta was a huge encouragement – wow, what God is doing to bless the city through that congregation! But it’s not quite the same. Maybe next time. Maybe after we’ve actually done something in India, we’ll feel the joy and encouragement we feel in Cambodia and Thaialnd.

But for now, I’m just plain tired. And I’m ready to get back to Cambodia. I can’t wait to hear the kids squeal in delight as my car approaches the gate at the Asia’s Hope Christian School. I need a few more of those hugs – hugs that have been, well, I guess they’ve been earned.

And then I’m ready to be home. Back with my wife, my kids, my church, my office, my grocery store, my grill, my bed, my blue jeans and my cup of coffee. But first, I have to grit through the next 14 hours of flights and layovers, and then the 30 hours to get home on the 8^th.

Thank you, God for your world. God bless India.

I'll post more about our future in India later -- right now, there are many things I can't yet discuss publicly. Keep praying. God is on the move.

I’ve been on something of a blogging hiatus since arriving in India 8 days ago. At first, my writing was slowed by exhaustion bordering sickness, but as the days have gone by, it’s been the sheer pace of events and the extraordinary expenditures of emotional and intellectual energy that have kept me from writing.

India has thus far exceeded, no, confounded my expectations. The breathtaking beauty of the Himalayan vistas and the gut-wrenching serpentine paths required to reach them have produced in me a state of near intoxication. 

Despite the Sikkim State Travel Commission’s claims to the contrary, the roads in this part of the world are not safe and pleasant to traverse. Imagine, if you will, the sensation of driving to the top of an 800 story parking garage paved with railroad ties. Now replace the walls of the parking garage with sheer cliffs and 1,000 foot ravines, and throw in a few hundred lorries filled with rocks careening towards you, horns blaring and tires skidding. Then make it rain every once in a while.

This is, I must say, not a trip well-suited for the faint of stomach or weak of heart. A three hour drive in this terrain is as exhausting as a 12 hour drive on a U.S. interstate. Thank God I’m not the one driving. This is what we’ve done for the last week. Every day.

Marebong, Lopchu, Ranka, Rorathang, Pedong, Cheebo, Gangtok, Darjeeling, Siliguri. We've seen 'em all.

The views alone are probably worth it. I mean, I can see the Himalayas from my hotel window. That is, quite objectively speaking, pretty cool. But I’m not here for the postcard panoramas -- the real beauty to be found in Northern India is in its towns, its villages, its churches. As we’ve traveled throughout West Bengal and Sikkim, skirting Nepal, Bhutan and China, we’ve seen villages without schools, hospitals or jobs. In these villages, most families are so poor that they can barely feed their own children, much less the orphans in their midst.

That doesn’t stop some of them from trying. Tiny churches across the regions have become by default drop-in centers, daycare facilities and even orphanages. We’ve met the pastors, have joined in their worship services, and have cried out to God for the resources to help them care for these precious kids. Apart from the people of God, these kids, who face a life of abject poverty and exploitation, have no hope. No means of transformation. No bootstraps to pull on, no safety net to catch them if they fall.

And that’s why we’re here. We’ve seen what can happen when God’s people work together, when rich brothers and sisters in places like Goshen, Indiana and Montreal, Quebec reach their hands out to their poor brothers and sisters in places like Battambang, Cambodia and Doi Saket, Thailand. We’ve seen kids -- homeless and hopeless, filthy and forlorn -- transformed by the love of God into healthy, happy and hopeful children who are destined for excellence, not exploitation.

And we want more.

It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be cheap. But each kid living as an orphan in a remote mountain village in Northern India is as precious to God as your child or mine. We’ve seen the need, we have the strategies and the experience necessary to save dozens – maybe hundreds of these kids. How can we turn away?

Jesus told the story of a man who found a pearl of immense worth hidden in a field; the man sold everything he had to buy the field and take possession of the pearl. We’ve found such a treasure in the mountains of West Bengal and Sikkim, and with your help, we’d like to lay hold of it.

More – much more – to come.

The view of the Himalayas from my hotel room in Kalimpong.A singing performance at the Grace Children's Home in Kalimpong

Trinity Grace Church in Kalimpong

Nepali ethnicity kids in West BengalTraffic in Kalimpong

Kalimpong

Kids in Pedong

Pastor Ambr and Ratha, potential Asia's Hope children's home directorsA child along the road to MarebongThe rough, rough road to Marebong. We actually had to get out and push. When the car could go no further, Seth, Nandu and I hiked for 45 minutes up and down 45 degree slopes to reach the village and pray for the pastors there.Tea trees on the hills near Marebong

Tea pickers in the hills of near MarebongMarebong

Tea pickersDrop-in center at a church in Gangtok

Construction workers along the road from GangtokBuddhist prayer flags

A school at a church in RorathangRorathang

My health has returned, and we're doing well. I simply haven't had the time to blog. Sunup to sundown it's go, go, go. Will post more later.

As I sit on my bed at the Kalimpong, India Himalayan Hotel, I find myself once again at a loss for words. As I said to my wife last night, I feel very, very, very far from home. I can’t begin to adequately explain what I’ve seen and felt.

Yesterday morning we left Calcutta and traveled by plane to Bagdogra, and took a rented jeep through the mountains to Kalimpong. If all of that sounds exciting and exotic, let me assure you — it is. As the crow flies, Kalimpong is a very short distance from Bagdogra. In reality, it’s a grueling 3 and a half hours of hairpin turns, landslides and sheer cliffsides without guardrails. 

I was already feeling sick in Calcutta. By the time we arrived in Kalimpong, I felt ready for hospital. We checked into our hotel, had dinner and, except for a short breakfast, I didn’t leave my bed until 3pm this afternoon, when Pastor Nandu came to take us to the Grace Children’s Home.

The Children’s home is attached to Nandu’s. As he told us tonight, “We have very little privacy. There are so many children.” When we arrived, the children were already dressed for the performance they had prepared to welcome us. All of the kids – the boys included – were wearing makeup. Many were in traditional Nepali garb. 

A beautiful 10 year old girl, whose name sounds like “Elizabeth” introduced the songs in perfect English. Then all of the children, from three years old to thirteen, sang and dance and performed skits. I had just enough energy to take some photos, exchange some smiles and offer some words of thanks after the program.

The kids left the room, and Nandu’s wife brought out some snacks – samosas, puffed corn, some cashew creams. As I reached for my plate, I just about passed out. The room, it seemed, was spinning. And my arms seemed strangely distant, as if they were being controlled by some puppeteer’s strings. Not so good at all.

Over the next hour or so, I was only intermittently lucid. I remembered going into the room with the kids and showing them pictures of Cambodia and Thailand, and I remember playing the game where both contestants try to make the other one smile. I did unusually well, as my face felt as if it was connected to someone else’s head. I also remember having to concentrate with all my might to not drop the glass of water offered to me by one of the staff.

By about 7pm, dinner was served. It was delicious, and it helped to restore a portion of my strength. Now that I’m back in my hotel room, I feel once again like I’m going to pass out. I don’t know whether I’ve caught some bug, or I’ve somehow become dehydrated. Dr. John thinks it’s just mental, emotional and physical exhaustion from being “on” for three months straight.

Tomorrow morning, we’ll have church with the kids and with some of the local believers. I’ll be praying for some miraculous level of healing. We have a very busy week ahead of us. In fact, this next week will set the course for any future work we will do in India. Please join me in praying that I will fully recover, and soon.

I had heard that Indian flights are more lively, that the people are louder, more garrulous.

I had heard right.

The flight from Bangkok to Kolkata was markedly different from any other I've taken in Asia. Aside from the fact that 97 percent of the passengers were male, this was the most boisterous flight I've ever endured. The passengers pushed and jostled and shouted as we got onto the plane, and kept it up throughout the 2 hour flight.

Within the first ten minutes, the female flight attendant serving our section gave up all pretenses of smiling subservience and adopted a permanent grimace, enlivened by the occasional look of plaintive incredulity.

At one point a male flight attendant burst from the curtain separating business-class from, well, luggage-class and shouted, finger wagging, "Once is enough!" to the man who had been pushing on and off his in-flight service button for the last ten minutes.

A giant Sikh a few rows away jumped up and entered the discussion. Neither Seth nor I could tell whether he was on the side of the passenger or the steward. I wondered if there would be fisticuffs. There were not.

After a very long wait at the baggage carousel, we exited the airport, greeted by Pastor Nandu. He ushered us to a taxicab which looked, like much of the city, like it could have been made in the 1950s. The next 40 minutes felt -- and, in the dark, looked -- like the ride to the Lestrange family vault in the bowels of Gringott's Bank.

Or, as I reflected this morning, it was like experiencing Phnom Penh in fast forward. Everything here is bigger, faster and, somewhat incongruously, both dustier and more colorful. Though I can see how one could get overwhelmed here, I really think I'm going to love this city. Confirming that will have to wait. 

It's almost 9am. We're heading down to enjoy the hotel's complimentary breakfast. If the condition and cleanliness of our room is any indication, I think I'll have a Clif bar instead. At about noon, we're heading to the airport, where we'll hop on a short flight to Bagdogra, and then take a car to Kalimpong. From what I can gather, Kalimpong is absolutely nothing like Kolkata. I'm sure I'll love it too.