In Fiji, where Christians have been divided for years, spiritual renewal has engulfed a nation–and its president has publicly led his people in repentance.
At 11 a.m. on Friday, May 19, 2000, eight gunmen stormed into the Fiji Parliament and seized 35 hostages. They were acting, their leader George Speight said, to protect the rights of indigenous Fijians against the increasing influence of the islands’ large Indian population.

Speight’s key hostage was Mahendra Chaudhry, the first Indian prime minister of Fiji. Speight’s aim was to remove Chaudhry’s Labour Party government and ensure indigenous dominance of future administrations.

The action triggered a 56-day siege of Parliament and nationwide civil unrest. Mobs rioted in the streets of Suva, the capital, looting and burning Indian-owned shops. As the violence spread across the provinces, Indo-Fijians fled their homes, and indigenous factions clashed even while they endeavored to find a solution.

The crisis raised thorny questions about national conscience.

How could such conflicts erupt? Who was to blame? Fiji–about two-thirds of the way from Hawaii to New Zealand–had long identified itself as a devoutly Christian nation. It clung to the belief that its almost 900,000 inhabitants lived in the shelter of a South Pacific paradise.

Yet a report on the coup, commissioned by the influential Great Council of Chiefs (GCC), concluded one of the main culprits was the nation’s Christians.

Prodding a Sleeping Giant

To Vuniani Nakauyaca this finding was a statement of the obvious. Driving through Suva the day of the coup, the senior pastor of Covenant Evangelical Church saw the mobs staving in shop windows. The sight sickened him.

“I’d never felt like that before–these people, supposedly Christians, you know,” he says. “They just roamed the streets and did whatever they liked.”

Nakauyaca suspended Covenant Church’s usual schedule of meetings and called his congregation together to “pray to God in deep repentance” for several weeks. A colleague approached him with an uneasy question: In the midst of all this, where’s the church?

“I responded and said, ‘That’s a very good question,'” Nakauyaca says.

Once a vibrant force in the forefront of national life, the church had become obstinately conservative and narrow-minded.

“As the church, so the nation” is an oft-quoted sentiment in Fiji, and for years before Speight’s coup attempt, the country’s established denominations had been mired in doctrinal standoffs while newer and more zealous churches fell foul of tradition.

“We were not taking our role to be a prophetic voice to the nation,” says Suliasi Kurulo, senior pastor of 3,000-member World Harvest Centre in Suva. While visiting neighboring Samoa in the 1980s, Kurulo read a book on the history of Christianity in Fiji and wept. It did not describe the church he knew, which he says was “so dead.”

“People were still religious–they went to church and all that–but there was no life,” he says.

Ordinary Fijians badly missed the leadership a healthy church once had provided. They reacted to the coup with shock and dismay but had nowhere to turn for guidance.

Sairusi Rakuro, a bus driver from the village of Korovisilou, about 43 miles west of Suva, says wistfully that before the coup Fijians were “like a big group of fish all swimming together, and then a shark came and stirred them up, and they all separated.”

A Methodist, Rakuro firmly believes in the church as a force for unity. Nonindigenous Fijians share Rakuro’s view.

Imran Ali, an Indian Muslim and a journalist with the Fiji Times, says indignantly: “Forget about what happened; let’s come together. The more polarized we are, the more important it is to make Fiji a peaceful place in which to live.”

He accepts the Fijian church’s influence for reconciliation.

“If you do it spiritually there’s more power in it,” he observes. “If it comes from a church minister there’s more influence.”

Yet the church was busy brawling and seemed an unlikely source of rescue. God, however, was prodding the sleeping giant. As a result of the crisis and subsequent unrest, Christians were forced to face a clear question about their integrity: Were they prepared to practice what they preached?

Some were.

Ignoring the dangers, members of Central Christian Centre church approached Indian shopkeepers–Hindus and Muslims–with offers of help and protection. They swept up the wreckage of their shops and mounted a 24-hour guard over their premises and homes until the violence subsided.

Defying the so-called Dogs of War–the marauding bands Speight was arming and sending out to assail his opponents–Kurulo’s World Harvest Centre also raised its colors. Indian riot victims were invited to a special meeting at World Harvest.

“The Lord gave to us a message that said the church had to make a stand, and we had to declare what we believed regarding the crisis to the nation,” Kurulo says. “We stood on behalf of the indigenous Fijians and asked forgiveness for what
had happened.”

Inspired by such acts and strengthened by a growing commitment to prayer, the church began to raise its voice. Nakauyaca says he sensed God nudging him like a Daniel into the lions’ den, so during the seventh week of the siege he went to the gates of Parliament with a group of pastors and asked to see the hostages. The group was admitted by gun-wielding sentries and taken to Speight.

“We talked with him and said, ‘Look, we are here to try and do some reconciliation,'” Nakauyaca recalls. Speight, looking tired and chastened, let them see the hostages.

“We sensed that God was providing a platform for us,” Nakauyaca says. “We sensed that it was … a moment that was given by God for the church.” He knelt in repentance before Prime Minister Chaudhry on behalf of all Fijians.

Chaudhry was astonished. Nakauyaca recalls that Chaudhry said, “We cannot believe that you, our brothers the Fijians, can go this low and ask forgiveness from us.” The church, though still disoriented after so long in the wilderness, had reclaimed its mission. The coup ended July 14, 2000.

National Reconciliation

Since then, a Christian research and information agency–The Sentinel Group–has sent crews to Fiji to document in film the revitalization of Fiji’s church as well as its national revival and reconciliation movement. The Sentinel Group is headed by George Otis Jr., producer of the popular Transformations video, which chronicles cases of Christian-led national renewal in separate parts of the world. The Fiji documentary is titled Let the Sea Resound.

“One of the things that has impressed us very much has been an emerging unity amongst the people of God here,” Otis says of Fiji. “It isn’t just between denominations. … There’s this wonderful, almost seamless working partnership between the church and the state here right now. … Many senators and parliamentarians are also pastors and church leaders.”

Foremost among these government leaders is President Ratu Josefa Iloilo.

The GCC, which selects the president and half the Senate, appointed Iloilo–a born-again Methodist preacher and himself a high chief–to the presidency when the coup ended. Iloilo, 83, exudes good-humored dignity, and those around him clearly adore him.

His predecessor, Ratu Sir Kamisese Mara, said dictatorship alone would unite Fijians. Iloilo disagrees. He believes the task clearly belongs to the church.

In early 2001 he approached the major denominations and asked them if they would formalize the growing unity of the body of Christ in Fiji and lead a national reconciliation movement. In response, Tomasi Kanailagi, president of the Methodist Church in Fiji, invited church leaders to a meeting in his office on May 31, 2001. The response exceeded expectations.

“We were jammed shoulder-to-shoulder,” Nakauyaca recalls. The meeting brought a decisive breakthrough: the founding of the Assembly of Christian Churches in Fiji (ACCF) as an official proponent of church unity.

Adopting a vision for “Fiji to Be God’s Treasured Possession,” the ACCF organized a nationwide Millennial Revival Mission, which Iloilo launched in Suva’s Albert Park July 8, 2001. As a crowd of 10,000 watched, he publicly bowed before God and said he and his household rose at 5 o’clock every morning to worship and seek God’s guidance for the nation.

Also present was Prime Minister Laisenia Qarase, a committed Christian, who declared: “Our efforts towards building this country will come to nothing if they are not rooted firmly in the love and fear of God.”

Iloilo and Qarase lit a torch, which symbolized revival and reconciliation, and young Christians carried it Olympic-style to towns and villages across the country. Churches joined together to host reconciliation meetings along the route, and reports about the torch’s passage began to filter back–people were suddenly being healed; others were falling before God in repentance and giving their lives to Him. Miracles were breaking out even in places far off the torch’s planned route as a sense of hope and renewal filled the country.

“I believe it’s because of these two men,” Central Christian Centre senior pastor Pita Cili says of Iloilo and Qarase. “I believe God honors their faith. … I have never seen leaders in Fiji committed to Christ like that.”

Ratu Epeli Kanaimawi, the chief who chaired the GCC commission that investigated the coup and determined the church was partly to blame, points out the reuniting church was quick to get alongside government members.

“We have delegated responsibilities to the church leaders to be responsible for ministry to government, right from the president’s office to the other ministries and statutory bodies,” says Kanaimawi, now vice chairman of the ACCF.

Others followed the lead.

“The Public Service Commission is very active now in holding regular church meetings of the [public] servants,” Kanaimawi continues.

Prayer movements have arisen as well. Otis was impressed to see chiefs rededicating their lands and people to God. “This is happening in a very significant number of places around Fiji,” he says.

Winds of Revival

One such place is Beqa Island, home of a renowned fire-walking clan that would walk barefoot on white-hot stones without any sign of pain or injury. Their occultic ability, attributed to an ancestor’s dealings with a “spirit god,” came at a price, however. Their men died prematurely, their fruit trees withered, and the nearby coral perished.

Now the fire-walkers, including their high priest, are living fervently for Christ and have renounced their occultic ceremony. Moreover, as they have dedicated their land to God, He has renewed it. Otis, who has visited the community, confirms that miracles are taking place–the coral has been restored and the once-withered trees are bearing fruit again, giving, witnesses say, year-round yields.

Also remarkable is Nukulau, a prison island 30 minutes by boat from Suva. Its only inhabitants are inmates, guards and the crew of a navy gunboat that patrols the island.

Nukulau’s most celebrated resident is George Speight. After his coup attempt collapsed he was arrested, tried, convicted of treason and sentenced to death, though his sentence later was commuted to life in prison.

A man of religious sentiment, Speight had advocated Christianizing Fiji through legislation. In the early days of his imprisonment he read the Bible feverishly, seeking justification for his coup attempt in Scripture. Over time he learned about grace. Eventually, renouncing the cause of indigenous supremacy, he gave his life wholly to Christ.

“He is thankful for the time he has spent in prison,” says Jack Simpson, who works with a prison ministry and recently talked with Speight about the attack on Parliament. “He believes he would have never met Jesus if [the coup attempt] had not taken place.”

Speight almost eerily personifies his nation’s spiritual journey from stagnation to crisis to renewal. Fiji’s Christian leaders have no doubt that God used Speight’s actions to trigger revival.

If he had not staged the coup attempt, many other things would not have happened either. Central Christian Centre would not be running an Indian service with hundreds of former Hindus and Muslims, World Harvest Centre would not be baptizing as many as 50 people a week, and the people of Korovisilou would not have needed to build a bigger church to accommodate the entire village.

The key to all these things was changed hearts, and it seems fitting that the man who tried to change Fiji with guns is now grateful that it wasn’t the plans in his heart that prevailed, but the Lord’s purpose.

It was an isle of plenty. Branches groaned under yields of mangos, breadfruit and papaya. Fish filled the nets in the surf, and an abundance of tasty crabs skittered across the beaches. Nairai–in the Koro Sea east of Fiji’s main island, Viti Levu–was a modern-day Garden of Eden for the people living there.

Then, in the late 1940s, the coral began to die, the fish and crabs abandoned the coastline, and the trees ceased to bear fruit. Overabundance gave way to scarcity.

In the highlands of Viti Levu, the villagers living in Nuku used to draw their water from a sweet spring. About 40 years ago the spring suddenly developed a whitish cast and turned poisonous. Plants on its banks died, and blindness or madness afflicted anyone who drank from it or bathed in it.

The change was said to have coincided with a declaration of war by Nuku’s chief against neighboring tribespeople, whom he drove away or killed. In later years, government chemists tested the water and found traces of arsenic and asphalt, among other poisonous substances.

Whether Nairai’s and Nuku’s distresses stemmed entirely from sin is not clear. What is undeniable, however, is that the people’s repentance brought healing. As people gathered to humble themselves and seek God’s face, He clearly responded.

Taking samples of their soil, seawater and coral, the people of Nairai spent some weeks in prayer, offering the samples up to God and inviting Him to exercise His lordship over the land He had given them.

One day while they prayed someone called out from the beach. The surf was frothing with large, edible fish of a species they had not seen for more than 50 years. Older people recognized them as being part of their staple diet when they were youngsters.

Every able-bodied person grabbed nets and hauled in as many fish as they could. Still the water churned with hundreds more. After the fish came the crabs–again in huge numbers–and in their seasons the fruit trees began to thrive again as richly as before.

In Nuku the people met together for a week of prayer in April 2003, rededicating their land to God. They also met with people from a neighboring village to reconcile longstanding differences. As they did, the opaque cast disappeared from the spring, and the water began to sparkle.

Someone, daring to taste it, declared it sweet–restored after 40 years. Now plants grow on its banks, flowers are flourishing nearby, and small fish have returned to it.

The residents of Nairai and Nuku, who testify consistently of these miracles, continue to meet regularly to give thanks to God for His renewal of their communities.

FIJI

Population: 868,531

Area: 7,055 square miles, slightly smaller than New Jersey. Fiji is not one island but two main islands and 332 smaller islands, 110 of which are inhabited, that are volcanic and coralline.

Racial tensions: Mainly between indigenous Fijians and immigrant Indians, who were brought to the islands as indentured servants by the British from 1879 to 1916.

Total number of languages: 10, but most residents speak English.

Percentage of Christians: 58 percent claim some allegiance to Christian faith. Fiji has the highest percentage of Methodists of any country.

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Adrian Brookes is a journalist based in Melbourne, Australia.

In Latvia, where ethnic and religious tension has triggered bloodshed in the past, missionaries Bob and Sharon Perry are calling the church to embrace reconciliation.
It is early on a Sunday morning, about an hour before first light. Bob Perry is driving through the Latvian countryside behind the wheel of his white Toyota van affixed with Virginia license plates. As he pulls up to the Lithuanian border, a guard approaches the van and his sleepy passengers pass forward a bewildering array of passports.

Two Lithuanian. Two German. One American. One Swedish.

“This is what I do best,” Perry, an American, says as the sun rises and he speeds on to the port city of Klaipeda, where a small Lithuanian-Russian charismatic congregation is waiting for him and his message of Christian unity.

A day earlier he was eating lunch at a TGI Friday’s in Riga, the Latvian capital, with a Canadian Lutheran, an American Lutheran, a Ukrainian charismatic and his own assistant pastor, who has roots in Soviet Central Asia. Sunday night Perry will eat a salmon dinner with a Swedish-born Milwaukee man of Latvian extraction who shares a similar vision of Christian reconciliation and togetherness.

Sound confusing? Not to Bob Perry. He’s in his element here, preaching unity in the Baltic countries of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. These are the three small former Soviet countries wedged between Scandinavia and Russia that this year voted to join the European Union (EU).

Everywhere he goes Perry talks about bringing Christians of all stripes together. At first glance, he might seem like an unlikely messenger. Viewed from several yards away, before he even begins to speak, Perry is quite obviously not from these parts–not with his cotton chinos, tweed sport coat and broad, frequent smile.

He’s fond of quoting the Bible. Jesus pops up frequently in conversation. Sometimes it is hard to find people like this in the West’s ecumenical movement, where a premium often is put on avoiding conflict, never straying beyond least-common denominators.

Standing on this Sunday morning before the 60-member congregation of Jesus Christ Is Life Church that’s meeting in a rented hall in Klaipeda, Perry urges his rapt listeners to put aside petty differences and age-old prejudices.

“We need more color in this church. We need Gypsies. We need Africans. We need Jews,” pleads Perry, listing some of the ethnic groups most despised in this part of the world.

“You can’t be afraid of immigrants. The church and the kingdom of God think global.

“Think big. We are a friend of the nations.”

Perry goes on to introduce Rosemarie Claussen, 69, a German woman whose father was a Nazi general, whose godfather was Adolf Hitler and who narrowly escaped death as Russian soldiers swept across Germany in 1945. Like Perry, she preaches about unity but gives the teary-eyed congregation a strong dose of forgiveness, as well.

“I just hated Russians. I was so full of hate and fear. …. And then, I became a Christian,” Claussen tells the congregants, a mixture of Russians and Lithuanians. “Forgiveness is the key to the kingdom.”

Breaking Ground

Forgiveness, patience, reconciliation, unity: These are some of the watchwords of Perry’s ministry. They help explain how he has not only survived but also flourished in an environment in which Western missionaries typically stay for one tour of duty that lasts three or four years.

Eleven years ago, Perry; his wife, Sharon; and their three children (there are four now) arrived in Latvia from Grace Covenant Church in Herndon, Virginia–a member congregation of Morning Star International, whose stated ministry purpose is “church planting, campus ministry and world missions.” They settled in a then-faded, now-flashy beach resort outside Riga.

After getting the lay of the land, Sharon Perry settled into teaching at the Riga Choreography School, and eventually writing and producing an original ballet dedicated to the Holocaust. The children embarked on a rigorous program of home schooling and extracurricular activities.

Bob Perry got to work by first advising Riga’s fast-growing New Generation Church and then launching what eventually became three Morning Star of Latvia congregations–two Russian-speaking, one Latvian-speaking. In the coming year they aim to plant another Morning Star church in Vilnius, the Lithuanian capital, and they currently are grooming a young pastor for the job.

“There was a time of about 18 months in 1993 and 1994 when we baptized about 1,400 people in the Morning Star Church. That was the peak. Since then, we’ve baptized maybe 250 people in total,” says Bob Perry, who, at 46, still looks the part of the high school football captain with his good posture, jagged features and strong jaw.

“But now we are 100 times better,” he adds. “We’re much better equipped. We don’t make the same mistakes. Now we just need Jesus to send the fish again.”

By the yardstick of mass evangelism, the Perrys have not enjoyed stunning success in their work among Latvia’s 2.3 million mostly Christian residents. They don’t lead a megachurch or have a TV show or hold citywide revivals that grab headlines.

“It’s been tough,” Sharon Perry says one evening in her living room. “I think it’s especially tough for Bob–as a man–because he’s been here for 11 years, and there’s not 10,000 people–or 1,000 people. … Thank God those that support us are not into the numbers game.”

Still, they have survived and learned from their errors and are deeply respected among the local Christian leaders, from Baptists to Roman Catholics, and among indigenous Latvians and Russians alike. This is no small feat in a country where the taciturn Latvians are deeply suspicious of their 30 percent minority of hot-blooded Russians, and vice versa.

“We would tell people that the Orthodox Church is not teaching right. [We’d say] it was stupid. It gets back to the Orthodox pretty fast. We don’t do that anymore,” recounts Bob Perry while describing Morning Star’s work in a secondary school teaching English and morality classes.

“We don’t need to pick a fight. It’s all about being a little more Christian,” he says.

Building Bridges

A handsome beige clapboard building that was originally built in 1905 as a seaside sanatorium for railroad workers houses the congregations in Jurmala, Latvia.

Inside, a marriage conference led by local and American couples is just finishing. Some of the church leaders gather outside in the sea air to chat with Perry. For Latvia, they are a remarkable mix of nationalities–Indian, Filipino and Russian, as well as Latvian.

Perry revels in the diversity, saying provincial Latvians need role models.

“When you’re in a place like Moscow, it’s an international city. Here in Latvia it is like Alabama–the way people relate to each other,” he cracks.

The Latvians’ September vote to join the EU reflected those divides as Russians in the country disproportionately voted no. Many Russians who happened to be in Latvia in 1991 when the Soviet Union broke up have yet to be granted citizenship and were not allowed to vote in the referendum.

Extremists on both sides aggravate Latvian-Russian relations. In the fall, the country’s culture minister took part in the dedication of a monument to Latvians who served in Hitler’s Waffen-SS. A group of Russians are accused of plotting the violent overthrow of the government in hopes of rejoining the world’s largest country with Latvia, which is slightly larger in area than West Virginia.

Amid this legacy of centuries of mutual hatred and oppression, Perry says he is doing all he can to put out fires and build coalitions through prayer. His status as an outsider from a “new church” is sometimes helpful, sometimes not, according to other leaders of the Latvian Evangelical Association, where Perry heads the Prayer Work Group.

“People are very suspicious. They look at this guy,” says Lutheran pastor Martins Irbe, pointing across the table at Perry, whom he credits as a driving force, “and they say: ‘Are you Lutheran or Catholic? No? Then you must be in some sort of sect.'”

The Latvian Evangelical Association, started in 2002, has grown quickly, to the point that 150 pastors attended a prayer leadership summit in March. The association doesn’t include Catholics or members of the Russian Orthodox Church, but an informal ecumenical group that sponsors annual prayer summits of top religious leaders does. It was through this group that pastor Irbe’s wife, Gunta, encountered Perry’s Morning Star Christian Church.

She says the proof of Perry’s commitment has been evident from the beginning.

“The first time I met these guys, we were doing the 40 hours of prayer on top of Latvia’s highest mountain–or hill, I guess you’d call it. It was January and minus 25. That’s cold.”

The man who organized that “prayer summit”–and one every year since–is Levi Graudins, a Stockholm-born, Milwaukee-raised Latvian who shares Perry’s vision, especially when it comes to prayer. Graudins says that before the idea of having 40 consecutive hours of prayer caught on Perry was “the only one who understood the concept” and thus was “invaluable.”

“Bob is a very loving person, a man of encouragement,” Graudins notes.

Despite all the accolades, Perry is not universally loved. Three years ago, his religious work in Latvia was thrown into jeopardy when the government’s powerful, secretive Constitution Defense Bureau (CDB) ruled that he was a threat to national security. On the advice of the U.S. Embassy, Perry retained a local lawyer who specialized in religious-freedom issues and fought the ruling through the local courts.

The case dragged on until October of last year, shortly after the EU vote, when Perry got a letter that inexplicably reversed the CDB’s initial decision. He and his lawyer are at a loss to understand what happened and why.

Senkans offers one explanation of why a man who promotes Christian unity might be a target for expulsion: “People like Bob Perry are not always welcomed by the traditional churches.”

For the last 11 years while living in Latvia, Sharon Perry has straddled two worlds that don’t always get along. As a dance teacher and choreographer at the Riga Choreography School (Mikhail Baryshnikov was one of its graduates), the 46-year-old Perry finds herself immersed in an artistic world where success is everything and dancers smoke to stay slim.

As a mother of four and a leader of the Morning Star Christian Church, Perry is steeped in congregational life centered on Bible-based tradition and values. Despite this friction–or more likely because of it–Perry is thriving, integrating the two worlds. Her crowning achievement came in September 2003 with the premiere of Voices From the Ground, a ballet she choreographed about the Holocaust.

Her two daughters danced in the production that was inspired by a family trip to the Auschwitz concentration camp in nearby Poland. Perry teamed with Lithuanian composer Gerald Povilaitis to create the ballet, which she dedicated to the 70,000 Jews who were confined to the ghetto in Riga, the Latvian capital, and marched to their deaths in 1941.

Clara Vesterman, a Riga-born Jew who holds the position of Second Secretary at the capital’s Israeli Embassy, was one of those in attendance on opening night.

“I tried to imagine it: How am I going to feel about something as beautiful as a ballet about something as horrible as the Holocaust?” Vesterman recalls. “I wrote to my office that this was the first time in my life that a ballet made me cry.”

The ballet was not without controversy in a place where, as Vesterman describes it, Latvians were “more than responsible.”

“There were places where they killed Jews even before the Nazis came,” she says.

Perry agrees that the production struck a nerve.

“Some people got upset,” she says. “It is hard to accept that your relatives might have done something like that. But we have to learn a lesson from that so it doesn’t happen again. I think that art has the power to change people’s consciousness.”

Perry would like to choreograph future productions devoted to subjects ranging from U.S. slavery to the plight of Afghan women, but ultimately, she stresses, art and education can bring people only part of the way to understanding the horrors of the past–and neither of them can prevent atrocities from occurring.

For proof of this, she notes the societal setting in which the Holocaust arose.

“[It] happened in educated Europe. Education doesn’t really change the heart of man,” Perry says quietly. “Only God can change the spirit of a person. We need to be changed from within, supernaturally.”

LATVIA

Population: 2.3 million

Year Christianity came to Latvia: circa 1300.

Year Latvia became independent of the Soviet Union: 1991

Percentage of Latvian population exterminated under Stalin’s regime: One-fifth. Also, during World War II, 70,000 Jews were herded into slums in Riga, the capital of Latvia, and later sent to death camps.

Percentage of Latvians who attend church regularly: 2 percent

Percentage of Latvian youth who believe in God: 80 percent, but few of them have ever been introduced to Christ.

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Frank Brown, who writes frequently for Charisma, is a freelance correspondent based in Moscow. For more information about Morning Star Christian Church, please e-mail bperry2010@.

This was one more blow to my faith in Islam. What kind of god would leave us with no hope?
I had recently graduated with my master’s degree in Islamic history and culture from Al-Azhar University in Cairo, Egypt. The faculty asked me to be a traveling
lecturer for the university. When they sent me to teach in Tripoli, Libya,
I shared an apartment with a student who was assigned to be my assistant.

One hot summer evening we sat together on our second-floor balcony, looking out at the Mediterranean Sea. We were discussing the Quran, specifically the teaching about what happens when we die.

I explained: “When you die, the angel of death comes and removes your soul from your body. He starts at your toenails and works his way up the body until he finally draws the whole soul out of your mouth. The pain is very intense for those who are evil, but Allah makes it easy for the righteous [see Surah 79:1-2]. Then you go to the grave to wait for the Day of Judgment. The grave can be like a little Paradise, or it will be a place of torture. Allah decides.”

“How can we know what the grave will be like for us?” the student asked.

“There is nothing in the Quran or the teachings of Muhammad to tell us,” I replied. “We just don’t know.”

He was quiet for a few minutes, and then he took a big risk and told me what he felt in his heart: “We are like sheep, going to be slaughtered. We have no power to help ourselves,” he said softly.

I didn’t say a word, but in my heart I agreed. This was just one more blow to my faith in the god of Islam. What kind of god would leave us with no hope, only fear about what would happen when we die?

For the next week I could hardly eat or sleep. I felt deep sorrow because I knew one thing for sure: I would die. And there was no way for me to know what would happen at that moment. It was one more link in the chain of events that would take me out of Islam and lead me to the true God.

I knew well what the Quran taught about who would go to Paradise. The Quran says: “And whomsoever Allah wills to guide, He opens his breast to Islam; and whomsoever He wills to send astray, He makes his breast closed and constricted, as if he is climbing up to the sky. Thus Allah puts the wrath on those who believe not” (Surah 6:125; also, see Surah 7:178-179 and Surah 32:13).

According to Islam, a man’s fate is determined by his actions. On Judgment Day, a record of every good and every evil act of his life will be brought out. Then Allah will decide who was good enough for Paradise and who will populate hell. The fear of this day gnaws at the souls of even the most pious Muslims.

But I discovered that the God of the Bible is different. We read: “God our Savior … wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth”
(1 Tim. 2:3-4, NIV; see also Matt. 18:14).

The God of the Bible takes away the fear of death and judgment by making this wonderful promise: “If you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved” (Rom. 10:9, NASB).

God doesn’t ask us to earn eternal life. Rather, He saves us, not because of the righteous things we do, but because of His mercy (see Titus 3:5).

He says that if you confess and believe, you “will” be saved. Not “may be.” Not, “We’ll see if you were good enough.”

If you want to talk with a Muslim friend about your faith, here is a good question to ask: Do you know what will happen when you die and go to your grave?

They will answer, “No, no one can know.” Then you have an opportunity to explain, “God wants you to have peace about what will happen when you die.”

Remember to always speak in love. And don’t try to put down a Muslim friend with what you know about Islam. Just show him that Jesus will meet his needs in a way that Islam cannot. You have a wonderful gift to give.

Autoimmune disorders cause the body’s immune system to backfire.
Question: I’ve had lupus for more than 10 years. Is a DHEA supplement effective for treating this disease?
F.A., Chicago, Illinois

Answer: Systemic Lupus Erythematosus, commonly called lupus or SLE, is an autoimmune disease that can cause pain and tissue damage in the body. It is a chronic inflammatory condition that especially affects the skin, joints, blood and kidneys. Normally the immune system protects the body from micro-organisms foreign to it, but with autoimmune disorders the immune system backfires and attacks normal tissues.

There are five types of Lupus Erythematosus, the most serious type being Systemic (SLE). There is no known cure for it.

DHEA (short for dehydroepiandrosterone) is a hormone created by the adrenal glands. The body uses it to make the sex hormones estrogen and testosterone. When sold as a supplement DHEA is made from plant chemicals.

Because approximately 90 percent of people with lupus are women between the ages of 15 and 45, the sex hormones as well as one’s gender are important keys for understanding and treating this disease.

Estrogens (which produce female sex hormones) most likely contribute to the disease; whereas androgens (hormones that aid the development of certain male sex characteristics)–such as DHEA–probably will offer some protection. Well-documented studies do suggest this.

There is no definitive test for SLE. For most of my lupus patients, I use a blood test to measure a DHEA sulfate level (most people with lupus have a very low DHEA level). Under my supervision patients may take DHEA supplements until their level is in the upper limits of normal range. A primary-care physician can order this blood test and monitor the DHEA dose until it reaches adequate levels, at which time many symptoms of lupus may be relieved.

The symptoms of SLE range from mild to severe. Most people experience fatigue, rashes, or muscle or joint pain. People with more severe cases of SLE may develop problems in organs such as the heart, kidneys or brain.

Most people with lupus are able to go on with their usual activities. Exercise and adequate rest can be beneficial for controlling it.

Research shows that lupus patients may benefit from a balanced diet rich in omega-3 fatty acids, vitamin E, vitamin A (beta carotene), selenium and calcium, and a diet that limits calories and undesirable fats such as saturated, hydrogenated, partially hydrogenated and omega-6 polyunsaturated fatty acids.

Question: Will antibiotics help relieve joint pains for people with rheumatoid arthritis?
S.O., Los Angeles, California

Answer: The late Dr. Thomas McPherson Brown, a rheumatologist, accumulated a significant amount of evidence before his death in 1989 showing that a type of bacteria called mycoplasma was at the root of rheumatoid arthritis. He then found that tetracycline, a type of antibiotic, could kill the bacteria. The symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis improved, he discovered, when a low dose of tetracycline was administered for a long period of time.

Rheumatoid arthritis is a relatively common disease of the joints in which the membranes or tissues lining the joints become inflamed. In time, the inflammation can destroy the joint tissues, leading to disability.

The MIRA Trial in the 1990s was a double-blind, randomized placebo study held at six university centers in the United States. Minocycline (of the tetracycline family) was used at a dose of 100 milligrams (mg) twice daily. Fifty-five percent of the patients with rheumatoid arthritis improved.

I have placed patients on Minocin (a brand name for minocycline) at a dose of 100 mg every other day and seen similar results. I much prefer Minocin to minocycline.

Your physician can order laboratory tests to determine if a mycoplasma infection is present by calling Immunosciences Lab at 310-657-1077. For more on rheumatoid arthritis, refer to my booklet The Bible Cure for Arthritis.

When our graphic artist, Brenda, was designing this issue of the magazine, she collected several photographs of AIDS-infected South African children, including the one of the girl who appears on page 36. The hollow expression on that little child’s face haunted Brenda for days, especially after she read our report on a ministry that places AIDS orphans in homes.

When I walked into Brenda’s office one morning she was crying. I didn’t need to ask why. The article on South Africa was on her desk, and the image of that frail youngster was on her computer screen. Brenda wiped her face apologetically
and said, “This is hard.”

Brenda wasn’t crying simply because she pitied a sick, motherless child. She felt the compassion of God. It prompted not only tears but also convulsive waves of intercession. It’s what the Bible calls a burden.

Many people in the Bible received burdens from God. Hannah was so agitated by her barrenness–and by the spiritual barrenness of her nation–that her intercession sounded like a drunken clamor. Jeremiah wept for backslidden Israel so much that he compared his eyes to fountains (see Jer. 9:1). God told Ezekiel to raise his voice in loud lamentation.

In the New Testament era, the apostle Paul was so gripped by a God-birthed
concern for the unconverted that he felt he was under divine compulsion to preach. Paul was also known for soaking his message in tears (see Acts 20:18-19). At times his praying was so intense that he compared it to the pangs of childbirth.

When was the last time you heard a preacher weep? Are we now so sophisticated that the Holy Spirit can’t cry through us? In this age of PowerPoint, teleprompters and wireless microphones, I fear we’ve lost touch with God’s emotions. Travail is no longer in style.

A hundred years ago a young Welsh coal miner named Evan Roberts was gripped by the realization that his countrymen were going to hell. In his words, he was “bent” by God’s holy burden. With heaven-sent compassion he prayed that God would shut hell’s gates for one year. His prayer triggered a revival that produced more than 100,000 conversions.

I wonder what would happen if in 2004 we got so painfully close to God that we felt His compassion for people who are trapped in sin and deception. What would happen if God laid a burden on you for the world’s Muslims? What if you could feel His heart for drug addicts in your city? What if you could actually see the throngs of people who slip into the mouth of hell every day?

During the Welsh Revival of 1904, God aroused Christians from their self-
centeredness and gave them supernatural concern for the lost. But first He sent a weeping prophet to break up the fallow ground. That is God’s pattern: Before the fire of God falls, Elijah’s altar is first soaked with water.

I believe tears are on God’s agenda for us in this new year. We need wet carpet in our churches–and the sound of travail. The Lord wants to break our hearts and pour His God-sized love inside.

But we must prepare for the consequences: If we receive His burden it will interrupt our Sunday routines, mess up our priorities and upset the folks who like their altars tidy and dry. But it also will kindle in us fresh zeal and genuine compassion for those who don’t know Jesus.

Gratitude for God’s forgiveness will “send you back” to help others.

Do you know that the devil makes mistakes–and big ones at that? The diabolical efforts of this enemy of our souls to steal, kill and destroy can at times seem overwhelming. But his efforts can at the same time create a phenomenon that works to our advantage.

The name I’ve given this phenomenon is the “Boomerang Factor.” The Australian boomerang, which may be used as a weapon, is designed to soar or curve in flight and return to the thrower.

The Boomerang Factor occurs when God’s forgiveness couples in us with a deep gratitude to Jesus for wiping away our spiritual stench and stain. The resulting phenomenon is that people who were once lost in sin rebound with a grateful zealousness to spread the same gospel that changed them. Our gratitude empowers us, and like a boomerang we come full circle, returning to the kingdom of darkness to do damage to it by spreading the good news of God’s love and forgiveness to others still trapped there.

Have you ever listened to young people exuberantly share their personal stories of coming to Christ? So often I’ve heard young men and women from ministries such as Victory Outreach, Teen Challenge and Master’s Commission testify about the positive difference in their lives after receiving Christ.

One evening I was participating in an inner-city pastors conference held at Angelus Temple and the Dream Center in Los Angeles. One by one, teenagers told what Jesus had delivered them from and how they now wanted to reach others with the gospel.

At times they were almost shouting their testimonies (so much for a laid-back, latte-filled, seeker-sensitive service!). They expressed a remarkable passion not only to know Christ, but also to make Him known.

Listening to them, Jesus’ statement about the woman who lived in sin came back to me: “Her many sins have been forgiven–for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little” (Luke 7:47, NIV). In other words, a person who has been forgiven much loves much.

That’s why God’s forgiveness of our sins is one half of the power that makes the Boomerang Factor weigh in heavily against the kingdom of darkness. The Pharisees recoiled at the thought of interacting with this woman. They never would have considered allowing her to wash and anoint their feet with her tears, hair and expensive oil, as Jesus had. But she had received forgiveness for her sins and was deeply grateful.

Just like her–and those young men and women I listened to in Los Angeles–I too am grateful to God for forgiving and delivering me. Aren’t you ever so grateful to the Lord for taking you out of whatever He has rescued you from and bringing you to where you are today?

Whether we were drug-addicted, tattooed, smelled like a sewer and drove a motorcycle or are sophisticated, squeaky-clean, smell like Chanel No. 5 and drive a luxury car, each of us ought to consider himself or herself the chief of sinners who is in desperate need of God’s forgiveness. Sin–regardless of its level of social repugnance–grieves God and was the reason Jesus gave His life for you and me.

That’s why our gratitude for being forgiven is the other half of the power that makes the Boomerang Factor weigh in heavily against the kingdom of darkness. Gratitude for God’s forgiveness will propel you to greater action–and “send you back” to help others.

Unfortunately, when we take our Christianity for granted, we lose our sense of gratitude to Jesus. When this happens, it’s usually accompanied by a diminished desire to reach out to others.

Can you imagine how awesome it would be if this Sunday in your church or fellowship there were a host of young, just-saved believers exuberantly declaring their devotion to Jesus and their burning desire to reach others? Their attitude might just spread.

Pause right now and tell God how thankful you are for the new life He has given you. Live today with an attitude of gratitude, and while you are at it, try to spread it around. People might get saved. It would be the Boomerang Factor at work.

Scott Hinkle is founder of Scott Hinkle Outreach Ministries in Phoenix. A veteran evangelist, he regularly leads street-ministry teams during Mardi Gras and other major events. He also sponsors evangelism-training conferences.

In Guatemala–a country of only 14 million–pastor Jorge López broke with small-minded tradition when he built the largest church building in Central America
While several hundred construction workers scurry around the site of his new 13,000-seat church building, pastor Jorge López dons his hard hat and peers over a balcony into the almost-finished sanctuary. Amid the deafening noise of jackhammers and hydraulic equipment, López surveys the scene with quiet satisfaction.

“Finally we will have something big enough for us!” López says, referring to what can now be called the largest auditorium in Central America. Besides being a showpiece of Latin American ingenuity, the edifice will be the principal meeting place for Fraternidad Cristiana de Guatemala, or Christian Fellowship of Guatemala–the church López founded in 1978 with 25 people.

Years ago the church was lovingly nicknamed “Frater” by members and friends. But now that the congregation of 20,000 is set to move into the cavernous new facility–which also features Central America’s largest parking garage–it has been dubbed “Mega Frater.”

This building is definitely “mega.” It has a 300-square-meter stage, a baptismal chapel and room for 3,000 children in 48 Sunday-school classrooms. The seven-story parking garage can hold 1,847 cars. An entire kilometer of highway had to be constructed around the building. There’s even a heliport on top of the parking garage.

When construction began in March 2001 in the San Cristobal sector of Guatemala City, business leaders in the capital were buzzing about the church’s cost–$20 million, paid in cash. One secular trade magazine, Obras, devoted an entire issue to the construction project and interviewed López as well as the architect and building managers. Obras called the church an infraestructura monumental–a
monumental infrastructure.

Impressive indeed. But monumental faith was required for López and his congregation to arrive at this moment. The 52-year-old pastor, a quiet-natured man who speaks perfect Spanish and English, said he told God 25 years ago that he wanted to build the largest church in the nation. He drew encouragement from his friendship with David Yonggi Cho, pastor of the world’s largest church–600,000-member Yoido Full Gospel Church in South Korea.

“Every city needs a church that can catch the attention of the people,” López says.

Now that Mega Frater has changed the skyline in this city of 3 million people, the church is catching more attention from high-level government leaders (at least one top official is a member), and it is poised to bring the gospel to every level of society.

But this feat wasn’t accomplished overnight, López notes. It required him to make several risky decisions that have forever altered Christianity in this developing nation.

Breaking Tradition

Raised in a tiny house with no running water in Guatemala’s capital, López says his first memory of Christianity was his parents’ Baptist church–a congregation founded by Canadian missionaries. But after the church was influenced by a Pentecostal revival that swept Guatemala in 1963, his Baptist denomination soon broke with the past and became known as El Calvario, a fast-growing movement fueled by youth evangelism.

Favored because he had studied English in Miami and blessed with unusual pulpit abilities and contagious faith, López was elected by his peers in 1976 to serve as president of the Guatemalan Association of Evangelical Ministers, or AMEG. But once he was on the path to becoming a religious bureaucrat, López began to feel troubled about the direction he and the rest of the Guatemalan church were headed.

“I saw that the evangelical church in Guatemala was totally geared toward poor people,” López told Charisma. “I observed that very few middle-class people would even come to church. We had created a stereotype that said only the ignorant and the poor could be evangelicals.”

In the early 1970s that stereotype was quite accurate. Those in high levels of business, government and education were Roman Catholics. The majority of evangelicos–members of Protestant churches–were poor, uneducated and more focused on getting to heaven than on changing Earth. Typically legalistic in their views about clothes, hairstyles and entertainment, the evangelicals developed a religious bent against prosperity.

“We were told in those days that ministers should not own property and that if you had money you were materialistic,” López explains. “But something inside me did not buy that. So I decided to swim against the current.”

That’s when López took his biggest leap of faith and started a new church that had only loose ties to El Calvario. When he announced that the congregation would hold Sunday services in a hotel ballroom, his ministry colleagues told him he was crazy.

“The idea back then was that if you went to a hotel to hold church meetings you were sitting in the place of sinners,” López says, laughing at the old mind-sets that still keep many churches small and invisible. López suspected that if he held a meeting in a more sophisticated environment, such as a hotel, people from the middle class would be more prone to visit.

He was right. His small congregation of 25 doubled quickly, then doubled again. And again. They built their first building with cash because López wanted to break another unwritten rule that said Guatemalan churches must struggle financially–and depend on foreign donations. He built his first church and the next expansion with money from his own members.

Until the congregation moved into the Mega Frater building in November, they met in a 3,500-seat building with inadequate parking. The church had to have three Sunday morning services and a Saturday evening service to pack everyone in. López’s goal now is to fill the Mega building several times on Sundays. If he does that, his congregation could grow to 50,000 or more in the next few years.

Many of those who fill the seats today at Mega Frater are there because López was willing to challenge another antiquated evangelical tradition: He reached out to Roman Catholics. Typically, evangelicals in Guatemala–as in most of Latin America–view Catholics as the enemy and often preach about the errors of Catholic doctrine. López decided early in his ministry that he would not use what he calls “the attack approach” to deal with Catholics.

“I have taught people here not to attack the error but to preach the truth,” the pastor says. “It’s more effective than clashing against what is not common faith. This has given us more favor.”

For example, rather than bashing the Virgin Mary from the pulpit, López speaks about her positive qualities–without encouraging people to venerate her as the mother of God, as most Guatemalan Catholics do. Rather than condemning rosary beads or rote prayers, he teaches people how to pray from Scripture.

What’s more amazing is that López has often encouraged Catholics who attend his church to continue going to Mass if they want to. “But most of them decided to cut ties [with the Catholic Church] because they wanted the teaching from the Word of God that they receive here,” he says. That explains why former Catholics make up 90 percent of his congregation.

It may also be the reason Catholic church leaders are admitting that they are losing the race for converts in Latin America, which once was considered Catholicism’s most formidable stronghold. The same week Charisma visited Mega Frater, in July 2003, the results of a study were released showing that evangelicals now outnumber practicing Catholics in Guatemala.

A Nation Transformed

Mega Frater is certainly not the only church in Guatemala that has broken with tradition and experienced unprecedented growth in recent years. It simply reflects a larger trend: Evangelical churches in Latin America are growing at the rate of 400 per hour, and Catholic leaders have noticed–and are worried.

Evangelicals make up more than 30 percent of the population of Guatemala. The Assemblies of God alone has planted more than 1,300 churches in a nation that is roughly the size of Tennessee.

Though Pentecostalism made its most dramatic inroads here in the 1950s, a significant wave of evangelism and charismatic revival jolted the country after a devastating earthquake hit the capital in 1976. More than 20,000 people were killed, but in response, foreign missionary organizations sent teams of relief workers, who left a spiritual deposit. Many of the nation’s fastest-growing independent charismatic church networks, including Lluvias de Gracia (Showers of Grace), Casa de Dios (House of God) and El Shaddai began after that pivotal period.

Many of these churches have exerted political influence in recent years–quite an amazing feat in a country that has been controlled for centuries by Catholic politicians with foreign interests. So far, however, evangelicals have not done a good job of representing Christian values.

Guatemala’s first evangelical president, Efraín Ríos Montt, who came to power in 1982 after a military coup, was a member of Verbo Church, a charismatic congregation in Guatemala City started by American missionaries in the mid-1970s. Yet Montt’s dismal human rights record ruined his reputation: His army was responsible for thousands of civilian deaths during Guatemala’s 36-year civil war (see related article on page 46).

Another Pentecostal, Jorge Serrano, a member of the huge Elim Church, served as president of Guatemala from 1991 to 1993. His election forced Vatican officials to face the unavoidable fact that Guatemalan evangelicals have become a powerful voting bloc. But Serrano’s presidency was marred by corruption and scandal, and foreign journalists were eager to pounce on his indiscretions.

Montt’s and Serrano’s track records show that even though evangelical Christians have been elected to the highest office in the land, Guatemalans have yet to prove that a born-again Christian can overcome the corruption that has tainted politics in this nation for so long.

Meanwhile, many other serious problems plague Guatemala. Drug smuggling has reached an epidemic level. Drug lords control whole sectors of the capital. Economic despair has led to a current rash of kidnappings and bandit activity, which in turn has discouraged foreign investment. And the government, reluctantly facing the ugly problem of machismo, has been asked to investigate thousands of unsolved murders of women.

“Six women in my church have been kidnapped recently for money,” says pastor Harold Caballeros of 9,000-member El Shaddai Church in Guatemala City. “And the drug trafficking has increased dramatically. Recently police found $14 million in one house where drugs were being sold.”

But Caballeros is fighting back aggressively by organizing one of the most ambitious prayer campaigns in the nation’s history. So far, more than 30,000 intercessors from all over the nation have signed up to participate in Jesus Is Lord of Guatemala, a movement Caballeros launched 12 years ago. Through radio broadcasts on 25 stations, he is calling on the nation’s Christians to view their current situation as a national emergency.

“When you look at the Guatemalan church you see big numbers,” Caballeros says. “But we have passed the point of focusing on the numbers. The point is that we Christians have not transformed society.”

Though he is realistic about the problems of poverty, crime and entrenched corruption, Caballeros is full of hope for the future–partly because he is seeing such openness to evangelism in Guatemala today. His own church has planted more than 20 satellite congregations in the country (plus many more in other countries), and the conversion statistics in Guatemala are rising. This is particularly true in the western part of the country where indigenous Mayans have been flocking to new churches.

“I believe this country will be saved,” Caballeros says with confidence. “In fact, I believe we can reach the entire nation by the year 2020. The Holy Spirit is telling us that we are going to see a social earthquake here. We are trusting God to intervene.”

López agrees, and he expects a sweeping revival to influence the highest level of government–even though previous Christian presidents have been a disappointment.

“We evangelicals are coming to the place where the leaders of the nation will come to us for advice,” López says.

Actually, López has already had private meetings with top officials from the capital. He gave private counsel to Serrano during his administration, and in more recent years López has met with President Alfonso Portillo–who visited the Frater church in 2000 after the 1999 election.

Before the most recent elections, López met with four presidential candidates to discuss Guatemala’s future, and the pastor has been asked more than once to consider running for the presidency himself. Many believe López could do a better job of running the country than the politicians whose names appeared on the ballot in November.

López won’t rule out the possibility that he will run for president some day. But for now he is content to build a thriving community of faith that has the potential for national impact. After stretching his faith to see God build the largest church in Guatemala, he’s eager to see what will happen when his 20,000 members stretch theirs.

“Someday others will visit our churches in Guatemala and try to find out how we did it,” López says, dreaming of the future. “In the next 20 years the evangelicals here will have a platform to send missionaries to the world.”

Ask Otoniel Morales about the violence that scarred his village 20 years ago and he will look away to hide his grief. His memories of Guatemala’s civil war are vivid because communist guerrillas controlled the eastern region of the country where he has pastored since 1980.

“There was so much killing when the anti-communists began fighting the communists,” says Morales, 43, known as “Pastor Otto” to everyone in El Rosario, a small community near the city of Zacapa.

“There were so many killed. There are no numbers,” Morales adds, wiping away tears. “There was torture on both sides.”

Guatemala’s 36-year civil war was the longest and bloodiest in Latin American history. It began in the 1960s when leftists challenged military dictators and the ruling elite’s feudal land policies. The government responded with a “scorched earth” policy that wiped out 400 entire villages and sent 1 million peasants to refugee camps in Mexico.

When the war finally ended in 1996, an estimated 100,000 Guatemalans had died. Human rights organizations estimate that as many as 40,000 people disappeared–many of them probably killed by anti-communist civil defense patrols.

Morales’ church, Iglesia Nuevo Visión (Church of New Vision), was caught in the crossfire of the conflict. Because a key leader of the communist insurgency lived in El Rosario, government-backed, anti-communist forces often targeted the peaceful community. Many innocent people from the Assemblies of God congregation died.

“Some women were dragged out of their homes and shot in front of their husbands,” Morales says. Once, a man stormed into the church with a pistol and demanded an audience.

“I wondered if I would die that day, but when the man took the microphone he told us he wanted to convert to Christ,” Morales says.

Conversion, in fact, has been a more common occurrence in El Rosario in recent years. Morales estimates that 90 percent of the village made professions of faith in Christ in the early 1980s. “El Rosario became a place where many people came to God,” he says.

Morales was an unlikely candidate to lead such a revival. Born into poverty in the town of Saspán in the Chiquimula region, Morales grew up in a mud-brick house with his alcoholic father. He was befriended by a Catholic priest and later was born again at a Methodist church.

But like many Christians in Guatemala today, he embraced Pentecostal faith in the late 1970s when the nation was experiencing a revival that had been sparked, in part, by the 1976 Guatemala City earthquake.

Since he arrived in El Rosario, Morales has memorized the names of every man, woman and child in the village, and he speaks to everyone he meets on the street and often offers to pray for them. Because of his own experience with poverty during childhood, he has a special concern for the destitute families who live on a mountainside on the edge of town.

One of these families–with 10 children–lives in a one-room mud hut with an outdoor kitchen. Although the average Guatemalan makes only $290 a year, this family survives on much less.

“One day we will feed lunch to these children at least once a week,” Morales says, pointing to some barefooted children who are playing with sticks in the dirt while dogs and turkeys watch.

Morales’ church already operates a grade school and will open a vocational training center next year. The pastor’s ultimate goal is to send missionaries from his village to nearby areas where, he says, witchcraft and idol worship keep people in ignorance and poverty.

Ultimately, Morales believes, God will lift this village out of its despair and heal the wounds of the past. He knows that his own life story is a reflection of what God is doing for the entire nation of Guatemala.

“We are seeing transformation and restoration,” he says. “Guatemala loves God today. One day we will go to other nations and spread the gospel.”
By J. Lee Grady in El Rosario, Guatemala

GUATEMALA

Population: 14 million

Language: Spanish is the official language, but 40 percent of the people speak one of 41 other Indian languages. The Bible is available in less than half of those languages.

Economy: Predominantly agricultural, with 2 percent of the population owning 80 percent of the land. Nearly 80 percent of the people live below the poverty line.

Number of people who died in Guatemala’s recent civil war: More than 100,000.

Growth of evangelical Christians: Only 3 percent of Guatemala’s population was evangelical in 1960. In 2001 that number had grown to exceed 2.9 million.

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J. Lee Grady is the editor of Charisma. He visited Guatemala last July and plans to return this summer to lead an outreach in the Zacapa region.
If you would like to contribute to pastor Otoniel Morales’ effort to feed the children of El Rosario, send tax-deductible gifts to Christian Life Missions, Attn: Guatemala Feeding Project, P.O. Box 952248, Lake Mary, FL 32795-2248.

In South Africa, where AIDS is claiming millions of lives, Ryan and Gerda Audagnotti are saving children one at a time.
Sarah’s room is brightly decorated and immaculately clean. On her bunk bed is a mound of fluffy toys. Her cupboard is packed with new clothes. In the garden of her suburban home are a swimming pool and a jungle gym. When Sarah comes home from school, she brings a friend from down the road to play.

In many ways Sarah, 6, lives a normal middle-class life in suburban Johannesburg, South Africa’s largest city–one that children in the shantytowns not far from her home can observe only on television. Yet Sarah’s life is abnormal for the family into which she was born. The life she lives now is the outcome of a change in destiny.

Sarah’s home lies on the banks of a river in the leafy suburb of Bryanston. The fence with the neighboring property has been removed, and there is a gate that leads to a third home. In the backyard of the middle home near the river, Moima leans over a bar of a jungle gym, head on the ground and one foot in the air.

Closer to the river 3-year-old Tshepo pendulums back and forth on car-tire swings pushed gently by volunteer Sylviane Hoare from Houston. There is even a brightly colored train engine, large enough for a 2-year-old to sit astride. Inside a third home, at 29 Royce Road, volunteer Claudia Pieroth makes a large serving of popcorn, which six energetic 3- to 5-year-olds eagerly devour.

Sarah is an orphan. She was 18 months old when her mother abandoned her in Sebokeng Hospital, a disadvantaged area near Johannesburg. She could not walk and was left to lie in her cot all day. Her belly was extended, and she suffered night sweats. Sarah could have become another statistic; instead she was brought to the home of Ryan and Gerda Audagnotti.

Gerda Audagnotti says God had been speaking to her about doing something for the thousands of South African children orphaned as a result of the AIDS pandemic. Success in their financial planning business in 1997 allowed the Audagnottis to own two houses in Johannesburg, one of which they decided to use as a home for abandoned babies.

“The Lord led us to open the doors of our own home for abandoned and AIDS babies in August 1998,” Gerda Audagnotti says. “Often my heart was touched by the plight of orphans all over the world. After the birth of my fourth child, Charissa, in 1997, I was overwhelmed by the sense that there are babies that are not loved, held and cared for.”

The Audagnottis were inspired by a book titled Acres of Diamonds written by Russell H. Conwell, who in the 19th century founded Temple University and Hospital in Philadelphia. Conwell started the hospital simply because there was an overwhelming need for medical care. He launched the project with one nurse and a small, rented consulting room.

“The point was to get started,” Gerda Audagnotti says. “This was so inspiring. I mentioned to Ryan, ‘We have the home; let’s just start this project.'” They registered with the provincial department of health, made alterations and opened Acres of Love at 31 Royce Road in Bryanston.

A Home for the Homeless

Sarah was one of the first to arrive. In the five years since Acres of Love was launched the organization has cared for more than 200 children and has grown to include the houses on either side of the home at 31 Royce Road and another across the valley in the suburb of Olivedale. Most of the children have been adopted, but Sarah has stayed. This is because she is HIV-positive. Few will adopt a child with a terminal condition.

As operations director at Acres of Love, Janis Evans oversees two housemothers and their staff. “Until this morning we had 32 children. Now there are 31,” she says, sadness showing in her bright eyes.

Sonnyboy was only 6 months old when he passed away in the early hours of that Wednesday morning, September 3. The night staff was with him at the time. An abandoned child with full-blown AIDS, he had arrived less than two months before.

“The only way I’m able to cope is that I know they have gone to a better place,” says Evans of the children who die in her care. “At least he was properly cared for in his last few months.”

Almost all the children who are brought to Acres of Love by the police, social workers or hospitals have tested positive for HIV. Yet in the five years Acres has been operating, only six have died. The six were already in critical condition when they arrived at the haven. Workers attribute this low death rate to the high standard of care they give the children brought to Acres.

“There is nothing more rewarding in life than giving of oneself,” Evans says. “I could never do this alone. Every day I ask God for strength and wisdom. It has to be the Lord every moment.”

From the beginning, the Audagnottis decided to care for the children God brought to them as if they were their own, says Tony Palmer, development director of Acres of Love. One of the first things they do is a Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR) HIV test.

The South African government tests for HIV status using an Enzyme-Linked Immunosorbent Assay, which tests for antibodies to the virus. This works well in adults, but children still have antibodies in their blood transmitted from their mothers.

The PCR test reveals whether or not the virus is present. In this way the majority of children who come through the doors at Acres of Love–who often are referred to the ministry by health authorities because of their supposed HIV-positive status–test negative for HIV and are therefore more readily adopted.

“To me the most amazing thing is seeing the destiny change in these children,” Palmer says. “One child was found by a township community in a pit latrine among the urine and feces. The child was brought to Acres of Love and is now living in Europe, adopted by a family there.”

There are many such stories at Acres. Children are found wandering in parks, living in outhouses or dumped in garbage bins. “Mark was brought to us last December,” Palmer says. “His father [had] been let out of prison and discovered that there were more kids at home than when he left. His wife had died of AIDS while he was away.

“Mark, being the extra child, was kicked out of the house. He literally lived with the dogs. When he came here he couldn’t look me in the face,” Palmer says, “and he stank of urine. When I saw him later on that Friday afternoon, he had been cleaned up, had brand-new clothes and sandals, and was bright and shiny. I said to him, ‘Do you know that today your future has been changed forever?'”

The majority of the children who pass through the doors of Acres of Love have been adopted by Christian families in South Africa, Belgium, Sweden, Germany and Canada. “I’ve never been disappointed in the parents,” Evans says.

She tells the story of Sello, who could dribble a soccer ball for an hour. When the portfolio of his potential adoptive parents arrived from Europe there was a picture of his daddy-to-be suited up and standing proudly with his soccer team.

Children who are not adopted become part of the Acres family. “Right from the beginning we decided not to do a little for a lot, but a lot for as many as we can,” Palmer says.

And a lot is what they do. Sarah lives at 33 Royce Road with nine other girls. “Every child that comes here lives in a suburban home with a maximum of 10 people,” Palmer says. “It is a safe environment with qualified caregivers.”

Sarah and her “family” eat three solid meals per day thanks to donations from South Africa’s top supermarket chain. “Even my own child doesn’t eat as well as these girls eat,” says Phumzile Ntombela, a caregiver at Acres of Love.

There is more than one reason the children are given quality nutrition. Children with AIDS are put on Hyper Active Antiretroviral Therapy (HAART), a highly active combination of three antiretroviral drugs. “You can’t give full HAART therapy without proper nutrition,” Palmer says.

“For the children who stay with us, we are committed to care for them right through to their first university degree, which we will fund,” he adds. “That’s the only way
we can break the cycle of poverty. We hope that in the future they will be people who give back into communities.”

Palmer works hard to educate the wider community, helping people to understand that children living with HIV have a future. “Medically it is true that with the correct antiretrovirals, we can extend the life span of someone for 30 years,” Palmer says. “In five years’ time this could be increased with new drugs, and there may even be a cure in the future.”

Sarah is living proof. She is the oldest child at Acres of Love, and although she has been HIV-positive for 5.5 years, she has not as yet needed treatment. She lives in a stress-free environment where there is love and care and good food every day.

An Army of Compassion

The children at Acres of Love appear happy. Every day volunteers play with the children, sing with them, teach art, help with their homework and generally befriend them.”Without the community the children would live in a very sterile environment,” Palmer says.

“Acres of Love couldn’t exist without the volunteers,” Evans adds. Most volunteers are wealthy housewives and students from the community.

“In the government institutions there are hardly any volunteers because they are depressing places to be,” says Eve Machabi, the government social worker who is involved in Acres of Love.

“At Acres of Love children have food, toys and parties on their birthdays. In the government institutions the children sleep in large dormitories with 20 beds in them, and there is only one birthday party a year for all the children together.”

One lack that is becoming more evident, however, is the absence of male role models. As several of the boys approach the age of 6, it is becoming crucial that Acres of Love start recruiting men to spend time with the children. “The fact that before Tony [Palmer] came they called every man ‘Mommy’ says something,” Machabi says.

A number of the older boys have recently been moved into the new house across the valley. Liz Hulsbosch, who oversees that house, says she could use all the help she can get.

One challenge caregivers at Acres of Love have, as at any orphanage, is to prevent the older children from acting out on younger children the abuse they received. This is part of the reason Acres of Love does not admit any children older than 5. As they grow older, past abuses start to emerge.

“Acres of Love needs a psychologist to help the children with the trauma they have experienced,” Machabi says. “They still miss their parents. They need closure. They need to know that their parents are never coming back, and there is no full-time social worker to help them through that. Some of them don’t know why they are here. Someone needs to orientate them.”

The children may not have a psychologist yet, but they do have the help of medical professionals–and as Machabi says: “The children know how to pray and believe in Jesus. Janis prays for them, and that makes the place unique.”

Several medical professionals volunteer their time for the children, including a pediatrician and a physical therapist.

The entire Acres of Love program runs on donations, not just from the local community but also from the United States. Gerda Audagnotti says 90 percent of the funding for the operating costs comes from the United States. Churches in Texas, Alabama, Florida, California and Washington, D.C., support the project. This funding has become available because the Audagnottis now live in the United States, where Gerda Audagnotti works full time, and Ryan part time, raising funds for Acres of Love.

The Audagnottis’ relocation came about when, six months after launching Acres of Love, Ryan was involved in a near-fatal horse-riding accident.

“On his deathbed, on life support, we were told by the medical staff that he would not live due to the severe injuries to his lungs,” Gerda Audagnotti says. “At this time the Lord strengthened my faith with the Scripture in Psalm 41:1-3: Blessed is he who considers the poor. The Lord will deliver him in the time of need and trouble. The Lord will protect him and keep him alive. The Lord will refresh and strengthen him on his sickbed and restore him from his bed of illness.”

Ryan experienced a miraculous recovery, and the Audagnottis decided to move to the United States to pursue a lifelong dream of living and working in America. They set up a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization with the aim of doing development work in the United States.

“We are building a bridge between the vast resources in the United States and the needs in South Africa,” Gerda Audagnotti says.

Although they started small, the couple has a massive vision. The cost of operating a single home–including mortgage, salaries, medication and transportation–is only $6,500 per month. By the end of next year they hope to have secured funding for the operation of 12 additional homes that will give 200 or so children a winning start in life. And that is just the beginning.

The Audagnottis plan to multiply the work in other sub-Saharan African nations and elsewhere. “Within the next five years we would like to see 200 Acres of Love homes prospering in countries that need it most,” Gerda Audagnotti says. “Our long-term goals are ambitious, but we are certain we will see the vision of 1,000 Acres of Love homes become a reality in our lifetime.”

Spreading this model around the world may well take the Audagnottis and their team a lifetime. For young Sarah, however, they’ve already made a lifetime’s difference.

Sub-Saharan Africa is the worst-hit region in the world with regard to HIV-AIDS. A September report by the Joint United Nations Program on HIV-AIDS (UNAIDS) said an estimated 29.4 million people in the region have HIV-AIDS. In 2002 the epidemic killed 2.4 million people there, and 3.5 million were infected for the first time. According to a 2001 report by Christian Aid, sub-Saharan Africa is expected to have 43 million AIDS orphans by 2010.

The most affected part of this region is southern Africa. For a number of years South Africa President Thabo Mbeki questioned the link between HIV and AIDS, and for a time his government refused to provide treatment for those who were HIV-positive. According to UNICEF figures for the end of 2001, 5 million people in South Africa are living with HIV-AIDS, 250,000 of whom are under age 14.

The AIDS education organization LoveLife estimates that if infection rates continue as they have, more than 50 percent of all South Africans under the age of 15 will contract HIV. South Africa has more than 300,000 AIDS orphans, a figure set to rise to 1 million by 2005.

Tony Palmer, development director at Acres of Love, a Christian ministry to children orphaned by AIDS, said the situation, though still critical, may not be as grim as it seems. He said because South Africa does not keep public records of HIV infections, figures are based on statistical projections that do not take into consideration three important HIV-AIDS prevention strategies expected to reduce the rate of infection in the near future.

First, figures are based on an enzyme test, which for children gives a higher HIV count than the more accurate Polymerase Chain Reaction tests, which check for the presence of the actual virus and not just the antibodies to the virus.

Second, if the controversial LoveLife sex education campaign funded by the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation reaches just 20 percent of its target market–South African teens–it will save 2 million lives in the next five years.

Third, the proposed government treatment campaign to make antiretrovirals available to the population is likely to make a significant impact on the rate of infection as antiretrovirals make HIV-positive people less infectious.

We had finally come to terms with the fact that medically we would not be able to add another member to our family. My husband, Grant; 11-year-old son, Garreth; and I were looking into adoption. We did not believe it would be possible to love another person’s child like our own and did not consider a cross-racial adoption as an option.

In January 1999 I decided to become involved at Acres of Love, a home for abandoned babies. I do so for two reasons: It was an extension of my work as a crisis pregnancy counselor, and I longed to hold a baby. I thought this would be a good opportunity for the latter.

On my way to Acres of Love I prayed: “God, please let there be a little girl there for me to get involved with. If she were white that would be a bonus, and no HIV would be great.”

Just before I arrived there I said, “Oh, if I could ever bring her home for a weekend, what should we call her?” The answer that came to me immediately was “Joy.” I smiled and thought that certainly wouldn’t have been my choice, but it would be OK.

At Acres, I was told they had a baby in mind for me. The mother had attempted to abort at 30 weeks, but somehow this little one survived. The staff took me to meet the baby. It was a girl. She was black, and she had HIV.

I thought, God, one out of three is not really good! I touched her hair. It was so soft–just a mass of black curls. I asked what her name was, and they said, “Her name is Joy.”

I was overwhelmed. When Joy woke up, they let me hold her. I was amazed at how dark she was–her eyes, skin, hair, even her gums. She was the most adorable baby I had ever seen.

On my way home I phoned my husband and told him what had taken place. I asked him to come back later to meet little Joy. At 5 p.m. Grant, Garreth and I made our way back to Acres of Love to see Joy. She mesmerized Grant. Garreth loved the way she clung to his little finger.

After the second visit to Acres, I felt the most incredible love for Joy. Grant was desperately trying to be “rational,” and yet every spare moment we had was spent visiting Joy. Acres saw the bond growing stronger and guided us with wisdom. We began the adoption process.

Bringing Joy home was incredible. Grant and I felt love, joy, fear, reservation and enthusiasm. The responsibility of having a different race baby with HIV was enormous. Somehow our fears did not seem to matter.

In May 1999 we received the incredible news that Joy’s HIV status had changed–she was clear! It was a glorious day.

We have learned so much since Joy became part of our lives. Color really is skin deep. We could not love Joy more. We never believed we would ever love another person’s child like our own–we were so wrong. Joy really is our daughter and Garreth’s little sister.

She is doing well. Her first love is definitely music, followed closely by story time. For various reasons we have changed her name to Abigail, which means “the Father’s joy.”

We realize there will be challenges ahead, but quite honestly, this little life that God saved and hand-picked for us is worth it.

SOUTH AFRICA

Population: 40 million

Racial mix of population: 77 percent black African; 11 percent white;
9 percent mixed race; 3 percent Asian and other

Total number of languages spoken there: 32

Languages in South Africa with Bibles or Scripture portions: 21

Number of Pentecostals in South Africa in 1960: 400,000

Number of Pentecostals in South Africa in 2000: 3.5 million

Number of South Africans infected with the AIDS virus: 5 million

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David Larsen is managing editor of Africa Media Online and head of The Media Bank, which publishes two South African Christian newspapers. He lives in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa.

Leaders say the laughing has stopped, but the unique revival movement is still going strong
On Jan. 20, 1994, the worldwide “awakening” known as the Toronto Blessing ignited in a small Mississauga, Ontario, church near Toronto’s international airport. Ten years later, there is scant evidence among believers that enthusiasm for the movement is waning.

In October approximately 3,500 people made the pilgrimage to the church where it all began–Toronto Airport Christian Fellowship (TACF, formerly known as Toronto Airport Vineyard)–to participate in the 10th annual Catch the Fire conference.

They journeyed from across North America and from as far away as Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia and South America to the 70,000-square-foot building that now houses TACF. Spokespeople estimate more than half of those present were first-time attendees.

Some came out of curiosity. Some came to fellowship with other believers; some to participate in exuberant worship and to hear speakers such as John and Carol Arnott, Heidi Baker, Mike Bickle, Wesley and Stacey Campbell, Randy Clark and Joseph Garlington. But most said they came hoping to receive a touch from God, and to experience the Toronto Blessing for themselves.

“The Toronto Blessing” is a phrase coined by British journalists to describe what movement insiders say is an incredible outpouring of the Holy Spirit marked by unusual physical manifestations among believers. It began in Toronto and quickly spread. TACF senior pastor John Arnott told Charisma that the Catch the Fire conference in 1994 was “catalytic in spreading the fire of God around the world.”

Ministry leaders from all corners of the earth came to that first October conference. “They were shocked by the intensity of what happened to them,” Arnott said. “It launched them into a whole new dimension of ministry.”

Those who came to Catch the Fire 10 Years On hoping to witness or share in similarly shocking experiences weren’t disappointed. Attendees and speakers alike participated enthusiastically in the partylike atmosphere. Countless individuals could be seen jerking spastically, laughing, shaking, weaving drunkenly or falling backward into the arms of catchers.

Keith Luker from Forth Worth, Texas, was one of them. Luker was at Catch the Fire ’94. He remembered it took several days before he felt anything, then he “felt everything: shaking, fire, feeling God’s love, tears.”

“It totally changed my life,” he added. “Reading my Bible, worship–it’s almost like the difference between black-and-white and color.”

He was eager to return for the 10th conference. The first afternoon, Arnott invited Luker to the platform. Receiving prayer, Luker began to shake and then crumbled to the floor, where the shaking continued for several minutes.

“To me, physical manifestations are just an indication that there’s something supernatural at work in that human,” said Dr. Grant Mullen, a mental-health physician long associated with TACF. “These are strictly human reactions to the presence of a supernatural force,” he added.

But not all charismatics accept that force as originating with God, and in the last decade the movement has had its share of critics. In December 1995 the Toronto Airport church was formally expelled from the Association of Vineyard Churches, a move that was symptomatic of conflicts occurring in many churches touched by the revival. Arnott said it happened, in part, because [Vineyard leader] John Wimber “didn’t like the way we managed [things].”

Others raised different concerns. Kevin Reeves left his Haines, Alaska, “Toronto/Latter Rain” church in 2000, after five years as a teaching elder, and today describes himself as “very conservatively Pentecostal.”

He read an article in which New York pastor David Wilkerson criticized the Toronto movement. “So I thought, If David Wilkerson can question these things, certainly I can.”

Reeves said his questions were not welcomed in his church. “I wanted to open a Bible, and all everybody was talking about was their experience,” he remembered. “The biblical reference is the only written record we have of God’s interaction with man. If you cannot find any kind of parameter within the Scriptures that you are operating within, you are operating outside. It’s very cut and dried.”

Supporters insist that the Blessing has affected millions of lives. Randy Clark is credited with being the man who brought the Blessing to Toronto in 1994. He told Charisma that in his opinion, three of the “greatest fruits” of the movement are “the miracle of the revival in Mozambique”–where Toronto alumni Rolland and Heidi Baker have helped start more than 5,000 churches–“the miracle of the number of Muslims that are being saved” and “the spreading of the fire around the world.”

Arnott said the most significant result of the Toronto Blessing can be seen in “an expectation in the hearts of many Christians now that when they go to church, something should happen,” he said. “There’s a greater expectation that the presence of God should be felt and experienced in some way.”

TACF meetings continue to be held each Tuesday through Sunday, just as they have been since the movement began. But 10 years ago, laughter dominated the meetings. Today, that’s no longer true.

“One of the misconceptions I hear from people is they think, Oh well, the laughing’s over,” TACF associate pastor Steve Long said. “And that’s true. The laughing is over. However, things are just as powerful, just as anointed.”

Today, average attendance at weeknight meetings varies from 100 to 500. But the format of some services is different.

“The Holy Spirit has been taking us … on a journey,” Long said. TACF now holds weekly “Soaking” and “Seek His Face” nights, which feature quiet ministry by the worship and prayer teams. Speakers are scheduled for Thursday through Sunday meetings only.

What the future holds for the Toronto Blessing remains to be seen. But Arnott has a few ideas. In 2002, the Arnotts began Catch the Fire Ministries, which includes a TV ministry and a vision for establishing 10,000 “Soaking Prayer Centres” worldwide.

“Revivals tend to have a life of 20 to 30 years,” Arnott says, “so we’ve really only just begun, haven’t we?”
Patricia L. Paddey in Toronto

A California couple say God spared their home Oct. 25 when wildfires burned much of their San Bernardino neighborhood.

For 11 days last fall, several fires swept through San Diego and Los Angeles, destroying 3,600 homes, burning 740,000 acres of land and killing 22 people.

All of the houses within a block of Tony and Diane Forfa’s home burned to the ground, but the couple’s house was hardly singed.

Fire safety experts say wind shifts and fire-resistant building materials could contribute to such an anomaly, but the Forfas, who attend The Rock, a charismatic church in San Bernardino, believe God worked a miracle.

The fire was so hot it melted the shutters. Their children’s large, wooden play set burned to a crisp, and their tricycles were metal skeletons.

But nothing on the Forfas’ home suffered significant damage. Their roof, made of wood, has no burn marks. Their boat, sitting in the front driveway, was perfectly intact, though the grass beneath it burned.

“I know it was God,” Tony Forfa said. “It was like gold, coming up looking at the house. It was really bright, like it was glowing.”

Tony Forfa said his neighborhood looked like a disaster area when he returned. Ash filled the air, and cars had burned until they were almost unrecognizable. The Forfas can’t explain why their home didn’t burn.

“For the first three or four days I was totally struggling with why,” Diane Forfa said. “There are Christians across the street who lost their home.”

But when one of the Forfas’ pastors mentioned that the couple had made a covenant with God and that the Lord had honored it, “that made sense to me,” Diane Forfa said. “I was able to move forward and help out.”

Churches in the San Diego and Los Angeles areas have been helping fire victims too. The relief agency Convoy of Hope shipped two 35,000-pound truckloads of water and supplies, which local churches helped distribute. All of the fires had been contained by Nov. 5. The damage is believed to exceed $2 billion.
Adrienne S. Gaines