Caleb is a bustling little boy, full of vigor and creativity.  In the photo to the right, he is dressed up as a pioneer missionaries on search of unreached peoples groups in the far off jungles of South America.  But, Caleb wasn't always so full of life.  

     When Caleb was under a year old, exploring the mission field of Venezuela by knee travel, he fell quite ill.  The sickness seemed to be sapping the very life from him.  He quit eating, and we worked with him, trying to provide him enough fluids to avoid dehydration.  The situation became grave, and one despairing night Judith felt that if God did not heal him he wouldn't make it much longer.  We felt so discouraged and tried to rally ourselves to seek God on behalf of our boy.  That's right at the time a phone call reached us.

     On the other end of the line was a pastor's wife in far off Texas.  She felt a need to call.  When we shared the situation, she immediately went to prayer over the line.  She cried out to God in true intercessory prayer.  I must admit, I didn't feel anything.  There was no electric shock, no chills that ran down my back, no peace that flooded my heart. 

     We passed a restless night not knowing what to do.  At some point we fell asleep.  Early that next morning we heard a little fellows voice trying to get our attention.  As we arrived to his crib, he was standing up.  Just one look into his pleading eyes and we could tell he was downright hungry!  Not only was he hungry, he was totally healed.  Well, he ate voraciously that day, and the next, and the next, and so on, until the little boy that had lost so much weight was sporting a very plump, round tummy in not much time at all. 

     Prayer made the difference and pulled the heartstrings of God to attend to an MK, and raise him up.  Now, Caleb wants to grow up and be a preacher, telling the wonderful story of salvation.

     The tensions in Caracas were mounting as those opposed to the socialist government were protesting weekly.  Clashes with pro-government demonstrators were becoming common.

It became increasingly difficult to maneuver our way through the burning tires, broken glass and rocks that littered the highway, not to mention the hundreds of people who took to the streets as we carried on the mission work while the Akers family was away on furlough. 

     It was fall 2004, on the eve of the revocatorio, the last democratic effort staged to vote out President Hugo Chavez.  We traveled up to the Santa Ana mission to conduct a church service on Saturday night. 

     During the service, and while I was preaching, a great fear suddenly seized me.  It felt as if the Devil himself had just walked into the church.  Outside the walls of the church, I could hear gunshots being fired, cheers, and revelry.  We were in pro-government territory, and they were celebrating certain victory.  All the businesses were closed because of the likelihood of vandalism that night--including all gas stations.

     After the service, one of the believers came to me and said with certainty, "It is not safe for you to be here tonight.  You must leave quickly."  I couldn't shake the feeling of danger.  It felt as if the Wicked One was out to destroy us that very night. 

     We jumped in the truck with our four small children to drive the 20 or so kilometers back to our apartment.  As I fired up the engine and started our way down the mountainside, I looked down at the gas gauge; it was on empty. 

     I told my wife, "Pray honey!  I'm going to try to coast down to the Autopista (the highway).  If we make it home, it will be through prayer."  Pray she did!  I successfully veered around broken down vehicles and trash piles, and brought the car onto the highway.  Just about five kilometers later as we rounded a bend in the road, we saw that the entire highway was blocked by rioters.  The National Guard was between us and the rowdy mob. 

     One soldier motioned for us to go back the way we had come.  And so with trepidation, I put the truck in reverse and backed up until I could take the first exit I found available.  This put us on a southern course which would not bring us anywhere near home. 

     As all of the events were unfolding, we still felt like a dozen demons were surrounding us.  The demonic oppression felt so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

     As I navigated the truck through uncharted territory, I finally was able to bear north.  For over two hours more we followed back roads, ran into dead-ends, reversed course, and tried again, ran into rioters, drunks, guards and so on. 

     I remember praying audibly, "Lord, raise up someone to pray for us in the US.  I felt as though I could not pray any more, as I tried to focus on the roads, seeking desperately to find a way home, all the while looking down at the gas gauge wondering how long the truck would remain running.  My wife as well was exhausted.

     Somewhere around 11:00pm, a tremendous peace settled upon us, and the demonic oppression lifted.  I knew then that God had answered someone's prayer.

     Finally, at almost 11:30pm, weary and feeling a bit shell-shocked, we pulled the vehicle into our apartment parking space, and made our way up to our home. 

     As we entered our apartment, the answering machine light was blinking.  I went over and pushed the button to see who had called.  On the voice recorder, the voice of Missionary James Martin greeted us, and relayed that they had felt a burden to pray for us that night, indicating that they had remained in prayer until the burden lifted.  He was calling to "rejoice with us" that God had answered prayer and to see what the need was. 

     I must say that I was so overcome with joy and wonder at the hand of God that kept a truck running for around three hours on a gas gauge that said empty that it took several hours before I was able to finally go to sleep!

 

     Many of you stood by us in the death of our daughter Melissa Faith back in 2005.  For your support during those dark days, we will ever be grateful.

     Now, as God has seen fit, we have "populated Heaven" with another child.  In January in our end of year news section of  our contribution statements, we rejoiced to bring you news that Judith was expecting another baby. 

     Because we mentioned it before, and so many have asked, we feel it only right to notify you that Judith miscarried. 

     In one sense we sorrow, for the hopes we had of holding another baby in our arms and training that little heart to serve the Lord. 

     In another sense we rejoice because our baby will never face a trial, never know a storm, never be tempted to bow to temptation, for this little one is in the presence of the Lord.  Heaven has become even richer for us, as we labor till Jesus comes. 

     As one believer aptly said, "For the Christian there are no goodbyes!"  Someday there will be a great reunion day.

 

     Over the last several months I noticed that my strength was waning.

Frequent bouts with infections and tummy troubles let me know that I had become a host for those friendly little creatures to the left called parasites.  They are not exactly the type of company I like to keep!

 

     A close friend, a pastor from Texas was praying for me and the Lord spoke to him that I had parasites.  My friend paid for my treatment, which ended this very day.  All the symptoms that I had previously have vanished, and my energy level is at or near Isaac's-our six year-old son, which is quite a praise report.

     It is wonderful to know that the Lord takes care of His own.