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2000 - 2025

Children’s Relief International

25 Years 2000-2025 2025 © Children’s Relief International Design - Melody Pieratt, Nathan Pieratt Photos - Special thanks to our CRI missionaries, staff, and team members. Scripture references are from the New International Version. Children’s Relief International P.O. Box 2470 Rockwall, Texas 75087 childrensrelief.org

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Table of contents

WELCOME 7

Sharing the Love 80

The Hardness of Poverty 8 The Golden Handshake 11 On Sunday Morning 12 A Boy Named Punishment 15 Death Walked Away 16 Highway of Death 19 Lucy the Abandoned 20 The Baby Who Died On Friday 23 “Amen, They Said, Amen” 24

Life as it Should Be But She is Satisfied Blue Walls of Hope This Well Never Runs Dry Water for Thirsty Souls

Logos, Taglines, Metaphors

God Makes Himself Known 30 Durga - The God-Woman 32 God Does Not Live in a Tree 35 God Is In the Coconut 36 Just Simple Trust 39 It’s Raining Blood 40 Maybe I Will Meet This Jesus Tomorrow 43 Drip, Drip, Drip 44 There Was No Rain 47 No Western God 48 A Sliver of Light 51 Was It a Sign? 52 Numbers Report & Compassionate Christmas

Help us Live 58 A Different Jesus 60 The Book of Names 63 The Devil Has Been Beaten 65 Five Women on the Floor 66 Our Magdalene 69 Soup for the Soul 70 Her Daughter Had to Live 73 This Child Was Wanted 75 Uncle Carlitos 76 The Bracelet Fell 79

82 85 86 89 90

It’s About the Children 94 Riya’s Mother Trusts Me 96 God Gives Different Talents 99 The Two “Be’s” 100 The Carpenter’s Son 103 I Have No Words 104 They Agreed to Let Her Go 107 Leftovers in the Sink 108 My Cow is Pink 111 He Leads Me Right to Them 112 A Place of Joy 115 Why We Do What We Do 118 A Tap On the Shoulder 121 Child Bride on the Mountain Side 122 More Cow Bell 125 The Ice Cream Man 126 Sung Sung 129 Sweet Sticky Grace 130 Why Take a Picture of That? 133 A Prayer with Joao Carlos 134 The Future: We Step Forward

138

You Know Who You Are

144

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WELCOME

f you are reading this, welcome! And thankyou as well because you are likely to be a friend, missionary, staff member, board member, or donor of Children’s Relief International. It is with gratitude and joy that we publish this book to celebrate the past 25 years. We believe that God has directed our paths, infused our hearts, and created our sense of identity as an organization. We are here to share the light of Christ with the poor in Word and deed. We are doubly blessed with both ability and desire.

and remembrance, we have assembled a selection from them, drawing from communiques out of our projects overseas. They are representative of many others that could have been told. Embedded in them are lessons that we have learned over poverty, partnership, aid delivery, and God’s presence. All the stories are true and the people are real. We hope you will think of them as your stories too. Alan Pieratt, Founder, PhD, MNM

During these years, we have published thousands of newsletters, fliers, brochures, and updates of all sorts (and that does not count our website). In gratitude

All the stories are true and the people are real. 7 - WELCOME

During the early years of our work in Mozambique and India.

The Hardness of Poverty T his first section consists of stories where we encountered the hardness of deep poverty. Most of them were written during the early years of our work in Mozambique and India. The people and situations they describe are not unique to that country. They are typical of places where there is hunger and sickness all over the world. However, the stories selected are well-told and represent the many that we cannot tell in this limited space.

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The golden handshake

fter 30 years of breaking stone, breathing it in as dust, and coughing it out as disease, Nageswar has been left too ill to work or even to walk upright. He tells his story breathlessly. He has been under treatment for tuberculosis (TB) for the last year and a half, but the medicines are not working. His wife, Laxmi, has fevers and coughs but refuses to get her lungs tested. She says: “My husband stopped working two years ago. Where’s the money for two people to be treated? Medicine keeps us alive. But there’s a fine choice to be made between food and medicine. A week’s dose costs a month’s salary. We’re broken; just like the stone we break.”

10 years, they are forced to join their parents from dawn to dusk. And yet, when crops fail in the countryside, for whatever reason, villagers move into the area to work at the quarry. Many have to accept a loan from the quarry to pay for their move and to have food to eat the first week. Their interest rates on the loans are so high that they can’t earn enough to pay it back. The loans appear to be a golden handshake to a family in need, but, in reality, they are a chain that ties them to the quarry for the rest of their lives. Into this darkness, we bring the light of Christ. - Pastor Ananth G. | India 2012

Men, women, and children work in rock quarries in India, filling lorry loads of granite. They are paid little, and half of what they earn is taken to repay loans to the company store. Many suffer dreadful injuries from the blasting. There is no medical care. Quarry owners reap huge profits, while the laborers live in Stone Age conditions with hardly any possessions. There is no education for their children, and when reaching the age of

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On Sunday morning

n a little mud church in a village in Mozambique—where most people are poor, where there is no clean water, and medical help is miles away, people come to worship. They crowd together on hard wooden benches amidst the backand-forth of tending to toddlers and infants to hear the Word of God spoken (most cannot read it for themselves). Sunday morning is a time of joy—of singing as a choir, dancing to songs of praise, and learning from the Word of God. Sunday morning is a time to offer coins to a building fund for a cement block church—a church that will have more benches, windows with screens, and a bathroom nearby. Sunday morning is a time for prayer. In a village where over-the-counter drugs are unheard of, the requests are many—for toothaches, bad feet, lots of asthma, tumors, fever, and abscesses. So many babies have sores on their heads. AIDS is just an everyday occurrence, so it barely gets mentioned. Sunday morning is a time to learn. On this particular Sunday, Pastor Zito shared the story of Joseph, a man who had been wronged by his

brothers. The people of Mozambique can relate. The civil war of the 90s is not forgotten, and neither are the family and friends who were lost in the fighting. Sunday morning is a time for change. Joseph chose forgiveness, not vengeance. What does that mean for us? Zito challenged his tiny congregation. We don’t come to church just to sing and dance with friends. We come to church to hear the Word of God and to let God’s Word transform our lives. So what does Joseph’s story mean for us today? Who do you need to forgive? With no clocks or electricity, the service began later than scheduled, and with no food at home, there was no rush to leave for lunch. Hungry people seeking the Bread of Life—each Sunday morning, they sit for hours in a little mud church in sub-Saharan Africa. - Lou Peryea, CRI Team Member Mozambique 2011

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A boy named Punishment

t was a Sunday like all others, hot and the church was full. At the end of the service, two young women came forward to present their new babies. The first wanted her baby named by the pastor. The pastor chose “Isaiah.” The other woman had already chosen a name for her baby: “Punishment.” When the church heard this, it grew silent. The mother was a recent convert, the father a nonbeliever. When she had first become pregnant, her family was in hard straits. They didn’t even have enough clothes to wear. So when it became evident that she was expecting, the family saw it as a curse and a punishment. When the service ended, I called the mother over and told her that this child wasn’t a punishment and that calling him by that name would curse him for life. Something he didn’t deserve as a gift from his mother. She listened and said that it was the father who chose that name. I said, go to the father and tell him he is cursing his child with a name like that.

Two weeks passed. She returned to church and said the father didn’t know that such a name would be bad for the child. Would I choose one for him? I was caught by surprise, but then decided on ‘Luke,’ after the beloved doctor. We had a second time of blessing and prayer in the service for the child. Luke, the beloved. Parents in Mozambique use other hard names to name their children: Misery, Hunger, War, Soap, Butter, Onion, Needle, and Bicycle. These names describe the situation in the moment they are pronounced. These names tell the true history of Mozambique. Our Lord is the great changer of names. Saul - Paul. Persecutor - Persecuted. One day, we will all have a new name given by God, not out of hardness but out of love. - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2012

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Death walked away

walked to the hospital in a hurry that day. I had so much to do yet. On top of everything else, we had a group of visitors that needed attending. However, I took time to greet one of our local volunteers named Malfada. She helps us care for terminal AIDS patients in our Project Life Hospice. She asked me to come meet someone. So I followed her outside to where a young lady named Nina, 16 years old, was lying on the ground beside her mother with her head in her mother’s lap. She was tiny, with nothing but skin and bones.

For a week, I looked for blood for her. By that point, Nina was too weak to talk anymore. But her eyes shined with hope each time I came into the room. And finally, I found a donor who willingly gave what we needed.

Nina needed a blood transfusion to survive much longer. So many patients here do. Most have to do without because there simply isn’t any blood available. But I told her mother I would do what I could.

But AIDS had the last word. As I write this a few months later Nina has passed on. Nina lived so little - and yet she lived enough to know Jesus and His power. What matters now isn’t that she walked again after the transfusion but that she walked with Jesus. And so she walks today.

For several days, I looked everywhere for a blood donor of her type. Every day, her mother sought me out and asked if I had found any yet. I would say, “Not yet. But someone will give,” though I knew it would take a miracle.

Nina got her transfusion at the very last minute. Even with the new blood, some nurses didn’t think she would make it through the night. But the next morning, she was sitting up and smiling weakly. She could even walk a little. “Death walked away.” That is what we say here in Mozambique. The next day, her family took her home.

- Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2010

During those days, a greater miracle than finding blood occurred - Nina accepted Christ as her own Savior. I say this to the credit of our volunteers who witnessed to her every day.

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Highway of death

ur town is a cluster of villages that run into one another. Altogether, we come to about 60,000 souls. There are very few stores here. Most of the things we need are bought at the feet of people who are sitting on the ground. Charcoal, wheat, corn, vegetables, chicken, fish - it’s all there, laid out in front of the seller’s feet. The most important feature of our village is our highway. On the maps of our country, it is called the “Beira Corridor.” That’s because it’s the only road to the sea for our neighbors to the west: Zimbabwe, Malawi, Botswana, and Zambia. It should be called the “highway of death” because of all the diseases it brings. A lot of truck drivers pass through here, and truck drivers like a certain type of woman and these women have AIDS. I don’t think there is a single family in our community that hasn’t lost someone. In many families, both the mother and father are gone, and only the kids are left behind.

It’s a poor area, to be sure. There are children here who have never seen an apple or milk that didn’t come from their mother’s breast. An ice cream cone or chocolate bar is no more than a dream.

thirty miles away. No one had a car! Joel’s father panicked. He ran out into the street shouting over and over: “My God, my God, it is my son.” “God, it is my son!!” It gives me goosebumps just to write this.

Food may be scarce, but one thing we have plenty of is malaria. It doesn’t kill like AIDS, but it still takes a toll. It seems a week doesn’t pass without one of our church’s families losing someone.

I ran into the house and phoned the church and my husband came as fast as he could in his pickup. We snatched Joel up and took off. By the time we arrived, he was barely alive. But we had sent out the alarm with our cell phone, and many of the members of our church were praying. I’m so glad to be able to say that God saved Joel’s life.

Like just last week, our neighbor’s little boy Joel - he is three years old - was playing outside when he suddenly passed out and fell into convulsions. He was being treated for malaria, but apparently, his parents had run out of medicine. All of a sudden, his malaria got a lot worse, as it sometimes does. We needed to get him to a hospital fast. The only one available was a ramshackle, government-run place some

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When I got home I looked at my two kids, gave them a hug, and delivered them once again into the hands of God. - Noemia Cessito Mozambique 2011

Lucy the abandoned

uring one of my first visits to Mozambique, I struck up a conversation with a young woman as she sat on the ground by herself outside a village hospital. She was waiting to be seen. Her name was Lucy, she said. She was probably about twenty years old, though she looked much older. As she talked to me, she stood up with the help of two canes. Her skin was pockmarked, and her knees were red and swollen. Her voice was high—like that of a small child. She was in pain, suffering from late-stage symptoms of AIDS. Lucy’s parents and siblings had already died, and she had no one left. She had come to the hospital for help because she had nowhere else to go. She was the most forlorn figure I have ever met.

responsibility take on a new light. To come across such poverty is to sense its importance. It is an affront to God and man. Once seen and experienced, it is hard not to read the Gospels in this light. - Alan Pieratt, Founder | Mozambique 2001

To talk to someone like Lucy is to be permanently impressed. To come across a place and person where there is no help, no equity, no justice. All that is left is pain —it shapes one’s self-understanding and one’s reading of Scripture. Places where it speaks to injustice, poverty, compassion, and

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The hardness of poverty

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The baby who died on Friday

ast week, a visiting team and I took soup to the hospital to share with patents and staff. In the last room of our visit, a 1-year-old child drew our attention. He had sores all over him and his little legs were so thin that they were dried up. He was having trouble breathing. A doctor came in and said, “This child came in with his parents and a witchdoctor. But, as always, they waited too long.” A nurse said, “We have been fighting for this child since yesterday. There isn’t enough blood in his veins to even draw for a test.” While we were talking, the baby died.

call on the village witchdoctors when they are sick. I was angry. But I was sad, too. When we are raised as children, we accept what we are taught. Our people were all raised believing to fear the spirits. We teach them that our God is bigger than the spirits, and they have His protection. Don’t go to a witch doctor. Come see your pastor first, and then we will go to the hospital. It is a hard lesson for them to learn. - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2005

Here in my community, when parents have a sick child, they go to a witch doctor first. If they don’t have money, and they never have any money, the witch doctor will ask for their shoes, watch, radio, and clothes. To save their child, they will give anything. Only after the witchdoctor has charged all that he can for his incantations and spells, they bring the child to the hospital when it is too late. Many adults die this way, too. It happens even among Christians. Many who come to our church

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“Amen,” they said, “Amen.”

ina was about 20 years old when she first came to our church. That was a few months back. She wore a ring in her nose. She loved to dance and sing in our services. Back then she didn’t look a day over 16. Now, only a few months later, her AIDS has advanced, and her singing and dancing have stopped. As I write this, we are in the hospice section of our hospital, and she lies before me with a painfully swollen face and feet.

I took her some soup this evening, and after I had prayed with her, I finished with an amen. I heard a chorus of voices from the other patients around the room. They had heard me talk about how their blood may be infected with a virus, but the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses us from all sin and sickness. “Amen,” they had all said softly, “Amen.” - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2003

Gina has no one to help her. Her parents are both dead. So is her only brother. She is alone and terribly lonely. But I and my Project Life team are here by her side at the hospice section of our local hospital. We are her new family. We are going to help her leave this world with dignity.

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 25

Our stories are only a part of our story. Our stories give us inspiration to create our collateral. So we are pleased to share within these pages a few of our favorite ‘gems’. We hope you enjoy, one piece at a time.

Logos Taglines Metaphors Our logos and taglines say it all. Other metaphors have come, but Hill Country and Slay Giants have been our name-stays since the beginning.

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original logo 2020

t CRI, we are...

Missionaries shining the light of Christ in word and deed among the poor of our time, climbing hill country, scaling El Capitan, building living bridges, slaying giants, choosing grit like the ibex, staying focused on the blue sheep, being evergreen, ascending in prayer daily, and pursuing excellence with faithful attitudes of gratitude & thanksgiving! Best job in the world! Onward!

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Tens of thousands of the poor have experienced His love in Word and deed.

God Makes Himself Known G od still makes himself known in our time, and our experience is that this is especially so among the needy. We call rare sightings of God’s presence “Snow Leopards” because sensing God’s hand is something like the sighting of a rare animal. It is always impressive, if also a little mysterious. The important thing is that God has made Himself known, and still does so today.

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 31

Durga - the god-woman

ar in the Deep Forest tribal area of India, Pastor Yesunadam and his wife have started a church in the village of Geddada. Enabled through support from Children’s Relief, the pastor leads a congregation of new converts from the untouchable caste. Most had only recently heard the name of Jesus Christ. Durga is one of them. Before her conversion, she was an intensely religious woman, devout in her prayers to her goddess. But her devotion was to a power that comes from what you in the West call “witchcraft.” She made her living through fortunetelling and offering rituals that called on local gods and goddesses. It brought her power and influence in the village. People feared her and started calling her the “god-woman.”

A friend suggested she attend pastor Yesunandam’s church. Maybe this pastor had power from a different god and could bring deliverance? Maybe she should go and ask for prayer and healing? Reluctantly, Durga attended a Sunday service and heard for the first time about this strange god named Jesus Christ. Afterwards, she asked the pastor for help. He asked the whole church to fast for three days and pray for Durga. By the end of the three days, Durga and her whole family were healed. Their diseases were gone! How could she not give her life to Christ? Now, Durga’s former followers from the village have also begun to ask about this Jesus Christ. - Pastor Ananth G. | India 2018

But inside, Durga knew something was wrong. She sensed that her spirit was growing in bondage to evil powers. She began to suffer one physical ailment after another. Her family also began to experience unexplainable illnesses. No medicine, no treatment of any sort, seemed to be of help. The village “god-woman” feared that she would soon die.

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 33

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God does not live in a tree

e drove for three hours before reaching the village of Rampachodavaram. We left early in order to arrive at 5:00 a.m. before the villagers usually leave to work in the fields. We found them gathered around a tree. After showering it with a reddish-purple powder, which they also rubbed on their foreheads, they prayed to the tree for their needs. I asked, “Why are you worshipping this tree?” They said, “Because a god and a goddess live in it. Our forefathers have worshipped this tree for generations.” I laughed. They asked, “Why do you laugh?” I responded, “There is a real God whose name is Jesus Christ. But he does not live in a tree.” Then I told them my personal experience of coming to faith in Christ and they were amazed to hear how God had blessed me and done miracles in my life.

“WHY DO YOU LAUGH?”

We stayed for the whole day. We taught the Bible and sang Christian songs. In the evening, we prayed for them before we left. They asked us to visit again. Our message is always the same: There is only one Lord and His name is Jesus Christ. - Pastor Isaiah G. | India 2008 35 - GOD MAKES HIMSELF KNOWN

God is in the coconut

uring our last day with a group of pastors from the Deep Forest, I taught a session on the persecution of the early church and then spent a couple hours listening to them talk about their spiritual journeys. Several of the men have been shunned by their families and kicked out of their homes. One of the pastors told this story: Some men from his village decided to test the power of his Christian God. They tied him to a chair and told him they were going to bring back a coconut that had been offered as a sacrifice in a Hindu temple. They were going to force him to eat it to see if the Christian God had the power to stop them.

I have been challenged by the commitment these men have to be a witness for Christ. They walked to hear us speak, some over two hours each day, about God’s Word and his church. They endure ridicule from their communities and family members for believing in the one true God. They are firm in their faith in the midst of an environment that constantly demands them to demonstrate that their God is real. They have such compassion for their people—praying for them without ceasing. In spite of their hardships, I have never seen a more joyful group of men. - Alan Pieratt, Founder | India 2008

When the men left, the pastor began to pray that God would show himself to be real and true. Several hours later the men returned without the coconut! On the journey back to the village it had rotted in their hands. The coconut smelled so horrible, and it was so spoiled, no one would dare take a bite from it. They all knew only God could do this and some of them were converted on the spot.

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 37

The hardness of poverty

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Just simple trust

ast February, I stood on the bank of the Ganges River looking across to the other side, wondering what it was like. My translator told me that the West side of the river is a sprawling red-light district. “It’s dark over there,” she said. Nine months later, I visited a home on the other side of this winding river. It was the dwelling of a woman who had accepted Christ through Smriti’s ministry to the poor. It was humbling to sit and listen to her testimony. Ever since she spoke the life-changing words of asking Christ into her heart, peace has come into her life. Remember the story of the Roman guard when Jesus healed his son? The end result was his whole household was saved. It was the same with this woman. Her son and his wife have also come to know Him in a true and personal way. This woman is now praying for her toddler grandson to know Jesus, too.

The woman shared with me that she and her son cannot read, and they are wondering how they will learn more about Jesus. I assured her that with her desire, God would answer her prayers to make it happen. I asked her what she does when she is troubled, when she feels like there is no peace in her heart. She smiled and said, “I just say, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah over and over, and the peace comes.” Simple. Just simple trust. - Kathy Knight, CRI Missionary, Retired India 2015

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It s’ raining blood aman Raju is part of our Deep Forest team of pastors. As with the others, he came into the ministry through a miracle. Let me tell you his story.

Raju does not tire of telling his story. Christ has healed and saved him. Every time he tells it, it is like it was the first time. - Pastor Isaiah G. | India 2009

Eight years ago, he was lying in a hospital in a terminal condition. He had struggled with leukemia for years. Now, the doctor said he had only a few more days to live. As he lay in bed, he thought back to the time when a Christian evangelist came into his home and talked about a strange god named Jesus Christ. The man had prayed for him then, but it hadn’t helped. To his great surprise, this same man suddenly appeared in his hospital room. I am here to pray for you, he said. If you are healed this time, you belong to Christ and you are to serve him the rest of your life. That night, Raju dreamed blood was raining on him from the sky. Although startled, he sensed that it was healthy blood, good blood. He heard a voice say that it was healing his body. The next day, he felt better. And the day after. The doctors ran tests and found what he already knew: His cancer was gone.

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The hardness of poverty

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Maybe I will meet this Jesus tomorrow

very day it’s the same thing. Break the stone. Crush the rock. Make more dust. Every day. Sick or well. Tired or hungry. Break the stone. Crush it.

I am tired of the same thing. There are many families around me, they work side by side. I watch them sometimes in between swings of my sledgehammer. It makes me miss my husband. Today marks two months since that large rock fell on him. I miss him. I wish I could crush all the rocks that crushed him! Last night I cried with each blast of rock. They shake my bed and keep me awake. But I don’t sleep well alone anyways. Without my husband to help me crush the rock, I may never earn enough to pay off the rock quarry owner. And I think I need to take another loan out for food. The woman who breaks rock next to me sang all day today. It’s too hot and too dusty for me to sing. And I wouldn’t want to. There is nothing to sing about! She keeps talking about a man she calls Jesus. She said he lived a long time ago and was rejected just like us. I wonder if he was part of the “untouchable” caste too? Today she said he experienced injustice like we do but he did it willingly to save us. Maybe her Jesus can help me. Maybe…but it’s beginning to rain and I still don’t have a roof. If I work harder maybe I can buy a roof. Maybe. Maybe tomorrow I can buy shoes. Maybe…. Maybe I will meet this Jesus man tomorrow. Maybe… - A rock quarry worker | India 2013

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Drip, drip, drip

y wife, Akkamma, was a constant drip-drip-drip to me. She would say, “Jesus is the only God.” Then she would repeat it. “Your idols have no power. Come to church with me and see for yourself.” She would say these things over and over. I would hear it at least ten times a day. Drip. Drip. Drip. It was torture.

her God had spoken to me. But to me, it was just a dream.

I posted pictures of my Hindu gods around our small hut to protect me from her God. I reminded her of the time, as a boy, I witnessed the burning of a Christian pastor in our village. To acknowledge Jesus as God was to live as a slave to our Hindu neighbors. She listened but continued to drip.

I accepted Jesus Christ as the one, true God. More than that, I became a pastor, riding my bike from village to village to share the Good News. I have been beaten for carrying my Bible openly. God not only sustained my faith but has made it stronger than before.

Finally, I gave in. She asked me to go to church. I thought, “If I can find fault with the church, the pastor, the sermon, anything, maybe then she would stop asking.” So I went.

Before I knew Christ I worked the fields to provide for my family. But because of your support, I can now work on planting seeds and harvesting a crop for my Savior, Jesus Christ. The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. (Matthew 9:37) Thank you for enabling me to serve as a worker in God’s fields.

That very night, I dreamed. I saw angels. I saw myself holding a Holy Bible. When I woke up the next morning, I told my wife. She was like a giddy schoolgirl literally jumping for joy because

The next day, a man delivered a package. I opened it and found the exact same Bible I had seen in my dream. I still don’t know who sent it. I started reading and paraying. Slowly, my wife’s drip, drip flowed into a river of living water for me and my whole family.

- Pastor K. Dora | India 2014

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There was no rain

o rain meant no crops. When there are no crops, there is no food, and starvation becomes a reality. Junnu Varaprasad remembered his father’s words to him as a young boy, If we ask the gods for rain, then rain will come. He got up immediately and made his way to the top of a hill. It was early morning. He prayed to Brahma, the Hindu god of creation, to send rain so that the people in his village would have a crop to harvest and would not starve. He continued until dusk, but no rain came. As he walked down the hill, he thought to himself, Brahma is not god. He prayed to Krishna, If you are the real God, then show me. Bring rain to this village. Rama, Vishnu, Indra, none of these Hindu gods brought rain. There is no god, he said to himself. Dejected, Junnu made his way down the hill. A man passing by handed him a small book. The words jumped off the cover: “I Am the Real God.” Junnu laughed at the irony and opened the

book to read. The story told of a God-man named Jesus who brought sight to the blind and caused the deaf to hear. Junnu was shocked. How can one born blind be made to see? He turned around and marched back up the hill. He prayed to Jesus for rain. As he stood to return home, the sky turned so dark he couldn’t see his village at the bottom of the hill. As the thunder crashed above him, Junnu heard a voice: “My dear son, go and preach to the unbelievers about me.” Junnu shivered with fright and ran down the hill. When he reached his small home, he said to himself, “This Jesus is the real God.” Today, Pastor Junnu travels around his village and to nearby villages, preaching the Good News of his Lord Jesus Christ. He has faced ridicule for his testimony, but his faith is not shaken. Many have come to believe in Jesus through his witness. - Pastor Ananth G. | Inda 2016

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No western god

astor Borru Bhushnam leads a Christian congregation in a Deep Forest village. His story starts, like most with a Hindu upbringing. From early childhood, he learned and recited the Hindu Vedas and, by his own account, was a pious believer in their teachings and customs. His first contact with Christianity came much later. It happened one day when a small band of Christian evangelists arrived in his village. They preached, prayed and distributed tracks in the village square. Their audacity made Bushnam angry. He decided to force them out of his village. He began cursing them in front of everyone and grabbed the tracts from the villagers as he did so. He threw them into a pile on the ground and burnt them in front of everyone. “No Indian,” he said, “should follow a Western God.” Years passed, and Bushnam entered his 40s with troubling heart problems. They grew serious enough that he had to seek medicine that could not be found in his village. He began planning a trip to Rajahmundry. As it happened, on the day of his journey, there was a huge gathering of people in a tent on the outskirts of the city. They were singing. He decided to see what it was about and was surprised to learn it was a Christian

prayer festival. Pastors were seated on a stage up front, taking turns preaching and inviting people to come forward with prayer requests. The sight made Bushnam furious. He went toward the stage as if he had a prayer request. His plan was the same as the last time. He would shout curses to disrupt the meeting. But something went wrong. Before he could say a word, he found himself fainting. He woke up some minutes later, laying on his back, and, to his complete surprise, he discovered that he believed! He knew in his heart with certainty that Jesus Christ was the one true God. Later that day Bushnam returned to his village with the medicine. But now he had a compelling urge to pray to the Christian God. Before long he was fasting and praying for a week at a time. He felt himself growing stronger in both body and spirit. His heart problem disappeared. He began witnessing to his neighbors, then in neighboring villages. Before long, a congregation of believers formed, and Bushnam found himself that which he would never have believed, a Christian pastor—a pastor of the One True God! - Pastor Isaiah G. | India 2008

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49 - THE HARDNESS OF POVERTY

50 - THE HARDNESS OF POVERTY

A sliver of light

ay has come to my Kolkata women’s conferences for almost ten years. She is soft spoken and poised. She is the one who would call the women to be respectful if there were unruly behavior, like the fight right outside our door when the police came to arrest a man for drug trafficking. Jay would listen to my talks with rapt attention, often wiping away tears, when she heard about Jesus who is so very different from any man she has ever met. During this trip I had the privilege of visiting Jay in her home. Narrow alleys led to rows of tiny one-room dorms. Hers is right in the middle. It is so small that for only her and two visitors, it was standing room only. Her bed is elevated off the floor so her children can sleep under it. All the cooking and laundry are done outside. The prominence of the paintings of Hindu deities above her bed is a reminder that hers is a dark world. There are no snap conversions here. But slowly peoples hearts, even bound tightly and held captive, can be slowly awakened to the Someone they never knew existed. They display these dark deities on their walls, but their hearts are irresistibly drawn to the Light.

And so goes Jay’s story. She grew up in a rural village. When she turned thirteen her family decided to take her to Kolkata to seek work as a domestic helper. Instead, they dropped her at a brothel. Despite her pleadings, she was left and subdued, surviving from day to day. She never saw her parents again. She was a beautiful child and eventually one of her clients offered to take her for himself. She would serve him only. Later her sister died, and she took in her nephew. Throughout her life, beatings and abuse were normal, meted out by both her “husband” and her nephew. When she started to attend Christian meetings, they increased exponentially. Nevertheless, she always found a way to be at our conferences when I came. Little did I know the price she paid, nor did I perceive the strength of the hope she clung to as a result of our little lessons. Word is that both her abusers have backed off and are allowing Jay to participate in the meetings, which she is doing wholeheartedly! We may never know for sure, but it looks like a sliver of light might have reached that home. - Anita Frederick, CRI Missionary India 2025

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Was it a sign ?

It was the end of a long, fulfilling day. My team and I had spent hours visiting church plants nestled deep in the “Deep Forest,” encouraging the 38 brave pastors we support—men who risk persecution and violence daily for their faith. These pastors are more than spiritual leaders; they are lifelines to their communities, offering counsel, prayer, medical care, and food when possible. Many have worked with CRI to provide clean water wells near the churches they’ve planted. Each well serves as a beacon of hope, pointing villagers toward the “living water” of Christ. Getting to their churches in the Deep Forest is a journey in itself. It requires hours of travel down a long, challenging road that weaves through dense jungle and open fields, shared by colorful, overloaded Tata buses, motorcycles, buffalo, and the occasional troop of monkeys. Warning signs caution against bear and tiger attacks, and military checkpoints stand ready to intercept Naxalite rebels. The scenery feels ancient and mysterious, with temples and idols to forest gods peppered along the way. It’s a dream drive for adventurers and photographers, if you don’t get car sick. I felt great and was determined to capture some good photos along the road to share with family and supporters.

of light pinning down a glowing mass at the edge of the forest road. The image seemed supernatural. Where was the light coming from? What was it pinning down? Paul’s words in Ephesians echoed in my mind: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, authorities, and powers of this dark world and the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Perhaps it was a sign of the Lord at work? In a land where dark forces are worshiped and hold people captive, the light of Christ and His angels are at battle, active and bright! Today, I understand the picture as a gift from the Lord. In my office, a photo of the light hangs beside a picture of a wolf—a nod to Matthew 10:16—reminding me that the unseen battles for Christ’s kingdom are raging and filled with light and victory. I am grateful for our work in the Deep Forest and for all who have helped make it possible over the past 25-years. Today, 100 water wells have been dug, and 80 churches planted in this region. Hundreds have come to know Christ. Tens of thousands of the poor have experienced His love in Word and deed. Christ and his angels are at work, shining brightly with and through all who have joined us on mission. That is something to celebrate. - Jason Pieratt, President

Since this was before iPhones, I didn’t see the photos until later. One picture stopped me cold: a bright beam

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| India 2015

53 - GOD MAKES HIMSELF KNOWN

Our stories are only a part of our story.

Numbers Report & Compassionate Christmas Number reports are more than numbers. They show God at work. We like to think we help make Christmas even merrier.

S A M

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“We are indebted to others once we know Jesus Christ. If I have food, I am indebted to share my food. If I have money in my account, I am indebted to give it. If I am a teacher, I am indebted to teach. If I have hope, I am indebted to share hope. This not something that is forced or caused by guilt but comes freely out of those of us who know the Lord.” Jeronimo Cessito, Project Leader, Mozambique.

Values

Faith, ambition, honesty, humility are the four values that describe what we aspire to be.

General & Administration $145,400 18%

Fund Raising $18,100 3% Program Spending $520,200 79%

$687,700

$700,000

Faith. We strive to design and conduct each of our overseas projects in a way that places the person of Christ at its center.

Honesty. We strive for a high standard of integrity based on the fear of God and expect the same from our overseas partners.

Ambition. Our goal is to make as much of a difference in the world as we can and thereby contribute to God's work in our time.

Humility. We pursue humility by reminding ourselves how small we are in comparison to the needs in the world today and by realizing how much our work depends on the convergence of many people, each with their own calling to faith service.

$650,000

Strategies

$600,000

We use three strategies in the communities we serve. Their combination produces an approach to international aid that is highly effective at transforming lives.

$550,000 $515,000* $500,000

$450,000

First of all, our projects are lead by Christian leaders native to their communities. This makes the aid extremely effective because it is culturally sensitive, readily owned by the community and is less expensive to deliver.

$400,000

$350,000

Secondly, we commit to our projects for as much time as it takes to enable a community to stand on its own feet and make its own contributions to church and society.

$278,210

$300,000

Third, we design flexible our work assignments that allow our volunteers and missionaries to travel freely to accomplish their ministries.

$249,997

$250,000

$200,000

$150,000 $112,864 $100,000

$56,502 $62,371

$50,000

2000

2001

2002

2003

2004

*This figure is without donations for Katrina.

2005

2006

M E R RY

CHRISTMAS

Shine Light. Change Lives. CompasSionate Christmas 2022 / CATALOG

2024 CATALOG

COMPASSIONATE

CHRISTMAS

C OM PA S S IO NAT E

CHRISTMAS 2023 Catalog

Brighter Together

Our hope is that by our giving they will receive God’s grace.

Help Us Live T

hese stories show how we help those who are on the edge of existence. Sometimes, even before sharing Christ’s light, we first have to feed, clothe, and provide medical care. People in dire situations will not and can not hear any deeper meanings until their lives are stabilized and secured. In many places, our most important aid relates to village food distributions, nutrition for infants in critical condition, or daily care for those suffering from advanced age or illness. Our hope is that by our giving they will receive God’s grace.

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 59

A different Jesus

he Bible tells us that it is better to give than to receive, and I have seen firsthand the power of giving. A large offering came to us unexpectedly, allowing us to buy hundreds of kilos of rice to distribute to villages around our area. There are so many hungry people right now. Why rice? Because all you have to do is cook it. Just add a little salt or sugar, and you have a meal. The joy of those who received this rice was matched only by the sadness of those with whom we are unable to share. Here is a story from a food distribution last week: Joan was not able to make our distribution event because she lives far in the interior. But as she was on my list to receive, I held her sack of rice in reserve. A few days later, she appeared, and I gave her the sack. That evening I received a text message saying that she had arrived home to find her family trying to sleep, but too hungry to do so. “You cannot imagine the joy my family felt,” she said, “when I returned with that sack of rice.” Another story: Two days ago, we traveled to the village of Mutua and found a community run by children. So many of their parents had died of AIDS or other diseases that ten, twelve, and fourteen-

year-olds were in charge of most homes. When we arrived, they gathered at the village center and sang to welcome us. Then we distributed the rice. Afterward, the leader, still a very young man, came up and said, “Others have come to our village and talked about Jesus and his love and his cross and his salvation. But they don’t share any food with us. We have never heard of a Jesus who cared whether we were hungry. Thank you for showing us a different Jesus.” Moments like these mark my thinking. They teach me a gospel that goes beyond just speaking and praying - one that expresses faith in action, deed, as well as Word. Only God knows how many houses and how many hearts these sacks of rice have touched with a different gospel - not one that talks only, but a gospel that also gives. I don’t have words to thank each of you who have been moved by the misery of my people to share with us. These are only little stories in God’s big world, but they make us believe that Jesus is watching and meant what he said, “It is better to give than to receive.” - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2016

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 61

The hardness of poverty

62 - THE HARDNESS OF POVERTY

The book of names

he women arrived with traditional capulanas tied around their waists and their hair brushed. Almost all had their best clothes on. Slowly, they filled up the yard in front of the church. For the men, women, and children of Project Life, it was a day of celebration! They came with empty bottles and sacks, but they knew they would leave with containers full of oil, beans, and rice -and with peace of mind that their children would eat that night and for many nights to come. A few people tried to get in line, but their names weren’t on our list, so their attempts failed. Someone started playing a tambourine, and in seconds, most were laughing, dancing, and singing—their voices echoing back from the surrounding buildings.

encountered a renewal of life through our Project Life Food Pantry distribution. 180 people who had been affected by HIV-AIDS felt themselves well. Our book of names for Project Life reminds me of the Great Book in which all the names of the elect are written. I think of the day when those names will be read aloud, and many from our ministry will be among them. The oil, beans, and rice you give are more than food for the stomach. These gifts bring hope and the chance for us to tell of the One who offers Himself as the bread of eternal life. In Him, we hope as we wait for the day when He will wipe away every tear, when death will be no more, when there will be no mourning, or crying, or pain. In Jesus, we hope as we wait for Him to make all things new. - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2015

For a few minutes, sickness no longer existed. Their poverty and misery were left behind, substituted by the mercy of God. For a few minutes, only joy, praise, and adoration were felt by these poorest of God’s people. They had

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The devil has been beaten

n Mozambique, most people use the services of witch doctors. The spirits they conjure are as real to the people as the evil consequences that take place in their lives, including sickness, hunger, and despair. The devil is real to them.

When we have enough donations, we hold a “Food Pantry” event for the AIDS widows in our project. At our last one, 107 women came to receive rice, beans, oil, and juice. We have a thanksgiving service beforehand. We start with hymns and a short sermon, then end with an African dance where the women line up and, while singing, move forward to receive their goods. The women were so enthusiastic, so urgently insistent in their singing as they received what was freely given, that even the Americans who were present joined in, though we cannot dance as they do! They sang acapella in the local Senna language. The words were a phrase, repeated over-and-over. I asked someone to translate it. They were saying, The devil has been beaten! - Alan Pieratt, Founder | Mozambique 2010

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Five women on the floor

e care for people who are in the final stages of AIDS to die with dignity. Our work started last year when I heard that some patients were being left all to themselves in a small building over by the hospital. Well, I went to take a look. I was shocked at what I saw! And that’s saying something because I was a nurse in the orthopedic ward of a hospital for five years during Mozambique’s civil war. I have seen it all. At least that’s what I thought. But when I walked into that room I wanted to just turn around and walk out. No, I wanted to run out! There were five women on the floor. They were literally skin and bones and just laying there on the dirt floor. They had been abandoned by their families. This happens sometimes because people are so afraid of getting the disease. They will dump their own son or daughter or nephew or niece of brother or sister off at the side of the road and keep on going.

Suddenly, I felt that I had to leave right now! I said goodbye and left quickly. After I got back to my office at our preschool, I sat down and cried. The next day, I wanted to return to help, but I wasn’t ready. When I did go back some days later, two of the women had died. I felt ashamed that they had died alone. I told myself that I have limits on what I can do. I can only do so much. I am human, and my nerves aren’t made of steel. But still. I knew I had to do something. So, we have started “Project Life.” We call it “Life,” not to be silly or ironic, but because we bring a message of hope. Yes, there is hope even for people who are dying of AIDS. Hope for the life to come. Hope for God’s love and mercy. And comfort, too. No one should have to die alone. Every day now, I and a few volunteers bring food, water, a bit of comfort, and a lot of prayer to those in our Project Life AIDS ward. - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2012

All five of them watched me silently as I moved around the room - as if they were waiting for something. I thought I was a strong person. But I had never before seen a person suffering from late stages of AIDS who had been abandoned. It was truly awful.

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 67

68 - THE HARDNESS OF POVERTY

Our Magdalene

ne of the women I got to know well before she died in our hospice was Magdalene. I’ve known many women by that name in my life. One was a teacher. Another a missionary. Another yet a mother of a large family. And I’ve read about Magdalene, the friend of our Lord Jesus. But none of them marked me like this woman. When she came to our hospice, she was in her early 20s but still had the face of a child. She was deathly thin, without color or strength. She had no family or friends that I ever met. Whoever brought her to our hospice left her, never to come back. She had nothing but her memories, and her only possession was pain. She was Magdalene the abandoned. That is how we found her, and that is how we adopted her. She became “our” Magdalene. She arrived almost dead, but in our care, over the last few weeks of her life she resolved to live yet a little longer. One day, shortly after coming to us, she accepted Jesus. With a voice so soft it was hardly able to escape her mouth, she opened her heart and asked Him to come in. This Magdalene, who was rejected and abandoned by her family, now has a new family. And she is loved by God. At first, she would only eat if we insisted and placed the food in her mouth. It was clear that she was slowly leaving us for the next world. Her mattress had been

laid on the floor in a corner because we were out of space, and she could not get up off it at all. Her body was so thin, her lips dry, but her eyes still gentle. She never complained, and when we asked if she was firm with Jesus (That’s what we say here, that we are firm with Jesus), she would smile a smile that only those who know God can see and feel. Yesterday afternoon we gave her a washing, and her bed a cleaning. Her bed was damp with just about everything you can imagine a bedfast person can produce. We changed the sheet. We massaged her arms. At one point, I asked her if she knew that we loved her. “Yes,” she nodded. I asked if she knew that Jesus had a place for those who received Him as Savior. “Yes,” she nodded. I asked if she already had that house in heaven and she smiled again, while her nodding head, only half hanging on its side, and she gave me her smile. So we set a date. The one who left first would wait for the other on the other side. She agreed and smiled again. That was our Magdalene. Magdalene the Saved. As we left the room that day, leaving her clean and calm, her eyes were fixed on me. As I write this, I can still see them. When I returned the next day, the bed was empty. She had gone ahead. There was only silence now in her place. Magdalene the abandoned, Magdalene the rejected had gone ahead and was now waiting for me. - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2012

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Soup for the soul

roviding soup to nourish a child’s body is easy. It is quite another challenge to nourish a patient’s soul. Week after week, we dole out soup—provided by our Soup Solution ministry—in the wards of the local hospital. We share the Word of God with mothers of babies, the sickly, and those not long for this world. We often leave without any of them acknowledging our message. Could we have said it better? Did we say enough? Usually, they are very polite, yet in their eyes, I could see evidence of other worries. They were not concerned with our message of God’s love. I began to wonder, What are we doing here? In the last room, in the very last bed, lay a man. As we entered, he painfully maneuvered to lift himself out of bed to greet us. We assured him that his role as a patient was to rest, not to show hospitality to guests. We shared the soup along with God’s story.

He had a story of his own to share: One day, I met a gardener who worked for an American in the area. I never learned his name, but he asked me to join him on Sunday for church. I waited for him to come, but he never came. Soon after, I became very sick and checked myself into the hospital for treatment. I believed I had missed my chance to learn about God. But then you entered the room with soup and your story of Jesus and the four kinds of soil. “And other seeds fell into good soil and produced grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirtyfold and sixtyfold and a hundredfold.” (Mark 4:8) In that last room of the hospital, in the very last bed, we shared the seed of God’s Word, and it fell on fertile soil. This man had accepted Christ along with the soup. Because of your giving, and your prayers, 30 new believers were welcomed into God’s Kingdom that week, along with the man in the hospital bed. - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2012

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 71

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Her daughter had to live

hinnari’s baby cried and cried. She was hungry, but as hard as she tried, Chinnari could not produce enough milk to appease her baby’s hunger pains. Because of the pandemic lockdowns, Chinnari’s husband had no income to purchase infant formula. Chinnari was desperate. She knew she had to find help. Her daughter had to live. Relief washed over her when she was accepted and welcomed into the Tessa Grace Nutrition program. It didn’t matter that Chinnari was Hindu, and the program met in a Christian church. The nurses performed health checks on them both and provided formula for her daughter. The village pastor was also there to pray with her and offer encouragement. Chinnari knew then that her baby’s future would be different. She would get to watch her grow into a healthy toddler and beyond.

before. Within a few short hours, she came to their home with a Deep Forest pastor. With the right medicine and prayer, her baby recovered. The family was filled with gratitude for the love and care that came from the Tessa Grace program. Our international missionary partner in India writes, “Many women came forward and turned to Christ because of our Tessa Grace Nutrition program. We never forced anyone to believe in Christ. It is their own choice. We just show the love of Christ through our help.” - Elizabeth Nieves, CRI Missionary Mozambique 2020

Last month, Chinnari’s daughter became sick with a fever and a cough. They feared she had caught the coronavirus. But Chinnari knew exactly what to do. She called the nurse who had helped them

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This child was wanted

arly in the morning, before the sun was hot, Florence and her husband, Ola, headed to the fields to work along with their four children. It had been their routine and livelihood for years. Farming was all they knew. There was much to be done to ensure a good harvest: sowing, thinning, weeding, and fertilizing. Each one had their own role. They worked well together. But this morning, Florence was tired. She had been for a while now. It was the secret she was carrying that made her fatigued. Only she and Ola knew. They would keep it that way as long as they could. If others found out they were expecting their fifth child at their age, they would risk criticism and judgment. Their youngest child was already 10 years old. The pregnancy was not planned. Their Nigerian culture would label the baby “unwanted.” Along with the stigma of having a child so late in life, they didn’t know if it would be possible for Florence to carry the baby to full term. The pregnancy was challenging and not without

risk. After a difficult delivery, she gave birth to a baby boy. Christopher was small and unable to nurse well. Concerned, Florence and Ola sought help from the Tessa Grace Nutrition program. Florence soon discovered that Tessa Grace was more than just a place to receive formula. There were health checks for Christopher and Bible teachings and encouraging devotions for her— showing her that their son was God’s child too. Once the women in the village saw the joy and delight Florence and Ola had for little Christopher, they understood that this child was wanted. After months of being part of Tessa Grace, he was no longer an underweight baby with an uncertain future. He was a growing, thriving, and happy boy—a child who was wanted! - Blessing Rowland-Adeniyi, International Missionary Partner Nigeria 2022

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Uncle Carlitos

“U

ncle Carlitos!” a young boy shouted as he walked by. At first glance, Carlitos did not recognize him. The boy was standing nearby with some friends, drawing water from the well. Carlitos returned his greetings and started to walk on. He had a busy day ahead of him. He is the director of our Tessa Grace Nutrition Clinic. Thirty healthy babies were ready to graduate from the program that day. Each was a testimony to God’s provision. He loved graduations. It meant that these infants were healthy and that the program was ready to receive another 30. The new openings would fill quickly. With last year’s drought, the waitlist to get into the program had grown longer.

As Carlitos turned around to speak to the boy, he remembered. Later, he shared with us, “I remembered Josue, who came with his grandmother to receive milk in 2014 at Tessa Grace, and today, this young boy was drawing water to help his grandmother.” Seeing a baby who came to Tessa Grace at 2 months of age because his mother had died, now seven years old, and studying in the second class Carlitos smiled. It doesn’t get any better than this. - Elizabeth Nieves, CRI Missionary Mozambique 2021

These thoughts occupied Carlitos’s mind as he walked. Before he could get far, the boy called out again. “Don’t you work at the clinic where the children get milk?” Carlitos’ attention shifted back, and he nodded in reply. The boy responded, “I am Josue. My grandmother told me that I got milk from you when I was a baby.”

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The bracelet fell

vó listened to the high-pitched cries of hunger coming from her granddaughter Antonia. Her cries were all the more piercing, knowing that she had no food to give. It was clear that Antonia was losing weight. Avó thought over her options. She knew that it cost five dollars for one can of baby formula. That is a whole week’s salary, an impossibility to cough up. So she carried the child to our Tessa Grace Nutrition Center with a hope in her heart that verged on desperation. She said to the nurse who met her at the door, “Please help my granddaughter. Her mother is dead. I cannot afford to feed her. I don’t know where else to go.” Two of our Tessa Grace workers took the baby from her arms. As they were preparing Antonia to be weighed, they noticed a leather bracelet tied on her wrist. Before dying, Antonia’s mother sought protection and care for her baby. She went to the only place she knew - a witch doctor. There, Antonia had been dedicated by name to a spirit.

disapproved, too. But the witch doctor’s bracelet was her daughter’s dying effort to care for her child. How could she dishonor her daughter’s memory? The Tessa Grace workers pleaded for Avó to remove the bracelet. Everyone waited for a decision. In the room, there was silence, then suddenly, a small stirring, and the bracelet fell to the floor. All the staff let out a sigh of relief. The sound of a falling bracelet is the sound of victory. The workers said a prayer for Antonia and Avó. Now, months later, Antonia is healthy and gaining weight. Avó smiles to herself when remembering her first visit to Tessa Grace. Her family had escaped the bondage of the witch doctor and found freedom in Jesus Christ. - Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2012

Avó shifted her feet, not making eye contact with the workers. She knew they disapproved of witch doctors and spirit dedications. And she understood. She was a Christian woman. She

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Our stories are only a part of our story.

Sharing The Love Is Our Favorite Thing To Do We love the what we do and we love working with you. There is still much work to do!

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“Go ye choosing. Great Commission: have ’s. We us to carry out His invites and commands receive a mission that is like our Hero we st’s story because He We share in Chri nations . . .” In obeying this command, ion work among the poor. miss all of try therefore and teach valleys to arrive in the hill coun to navigate over deep ignorance and injustice. the giants of poverty,

with those of His

CHILDREN’S RELIEF INTERNATIONAL p re s e nt s

Give us this

Hill Country

the course of our training for missionary service, we refer to valleys, giants, hill country and slaying giants. Valleys describe the difficult decisions and tasks missionaries must face in order to serve the King in other countries. Giants depict the obstacles, conflicts and problems we confront in deep poverty. Hill country refers to the places in the world where giants live. Slaying giants refers to the results we seek from our work. These images come from the 14th chapter of Joshua where the elders of Israel meet to consider the task of conquering Palestine. Caleb says to Joshua,

Now then, give me this hill country about which the Lord spoke on that day, for you heard on that day that Anakim (giants) were there, with great fortified cities; perhaps the Lord will be with me, and I will drive them out as the Lord has spoken (Josh. 14:10-12).

Caleb asked for the part of Palestine where the fiercest tribes lived, believing that since God had commanded Israel to take the land He would be with them in conquering it. Similarly we feel called to take Christ to areas of the world where life is difficult and poverty runs deep. Like Joshua we believe God will be with us as we strive to slay giants.

Starting the Journey Missionaries hear the Hero’s command in the Great Commission as a personal calling. To pursue it, they have to cross the valleys of self-denial and support raising.

CHILDREN’S RELIEF INTERNATIONAL

Written ated and illustr by Joe Sneed

SLAY

GIANTS IN RAJAHMUNDRY, INDIA

Crossing

Valleys

Crossing the Valley of Self-Denial Facing the valley of self denial means confronting the decisions that call for personal sacrifice. What are we willing to give up for Christ? What are we willing to do in His service? With the help of prayer, good counsel and the Holy Spirit, this valley can be crossed. (Let your yes be yes - Matt. 5:37)

Crossing the Valley of Support Raising Facing the valley of support raising means confronting the fears and challenges that come with asking people to help you be obedient to the call to missions. It is an intimidating valley to cross. We help our missionaries cross this valley through:

Endorsement Endorsement by our agency establishes the credibility to be accepted by individuals and churches as bona fide missionaries. Sharp vision We help our candidates present clear vision, strong strategies and ambitious goals. Quality media We share our vision and strategies through custom made media. Training We provide training on how to raise support among American church going people. Donor retention We place a high value on making our donors feel a part of our work. Human resources We provide a full range of legal and financial resources.

Slaying

Giants

Facing the Giants of Poverty

Giants Slain

Once our missionaries have crossed the valleys, they work among the giants in hill country, facing injustice, hunger, ignorance and the stubbornness with which poverty clings to people. We use nine strong strategies to slay the giants of poverty.

Wherever Christ went the poor were taught, healed, saved and helped (Matt. 9:35; Luke 4:18-21). It is no different today. As we take Him to the poor through our words and our actions, through our programs and ministries, people come to know Him and are helped, healed and saved in the same way. We look for six outcomes from slaying giants in hill country.

1 - Keep Christ first. 2 - Recruit, train, send and support national leaders. 3 - Recruit, train, send and support American missionaries.

1 - The church grows.

4 - Organize and send short-term teams and interns.

2 - Children are cared for and educated.

5 - Commit for the long run and re-evaluate often.

3 - Quality of life rises.

6 - Show honor but insist on transparent accountability. 7 - Be disciplined in planning and budgeting. 8 - Be conscientious in communication. 9 - Be zealous in the pursuit of goals but realistic about outcomes.

4 - Skills are acquired for jobs. 5 - God’s people are awakened to the needs of the poor and the opportunities to help. 6 - God’s people are enabled to go and serve.

In time, they will know Jesus, too.

Life As It Should Be “A house

ritical and immediate needs aren’t the end of the story. Once we have made sure the pressing needs are covered, we add legacy programs that meet long-term needs for shelter and clean water. Providing much needed stability to families and communities where we work.

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uses are are sch to expres rs and that are eduled voluntee designe s Chris commo for the t’s love d using rs com n to the summe in this e material local com r of 2008 manner. COMM s and me munity. PART . Our UNITY thods ICIPAT which INVOLV ION. Th to parti familie construc EMEN ose cip s rec ate who rec eiving tion de in its con T. Lo eive a ho a house tails an cal bo conjun structio . They use are d loan ard ction wi n. s decid also car encourag STEW payback th teams e e for pa ARDS ed (if any). . perwork HIP. Cla houses We use , sses are on home local lab home ow provided stewards or in nership, for hip. Su care an the diff bjects inc families receiv d maint erence enance between ing lude the of a ho renting concep me. t of and ow ning, an FLEX d the IBILIT Y. A ho beyond using the house project itself, suc h as a com may also inc WHY THE lud mu e need nity pla NAME us of the s yground GREE gift of . N DO life tha sents bo OR? t God th The co created lor gre in Chris the house be in Gene hind it t’s name sis 1. Th en reminds and the of const . Paint e door ing the ser vice ruction rep rendered front reis an act neighbo by a tea rhood. of closur door green m at the e and complet a witne ion ss to Ch rist in the Please contac t us at in ser vin CRI if g on, or you are in formi construc intereste ng a ne tion tea w Green d m: Door Children ’s Relie f Intern Box 63 ational 1369 Hi ghlands 80163-1 Ra 369 nch, CO Email: support@ children Phone: srelief.o (720) 34 rg 4 1940

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25 years - Children’s Relief International 83

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But she is satisfied

n enchanting smile stretches across Grandma Chica’s weathered face, as her few teeth peek through. Some say she is 75 years old; others say 82. No one really knows for sure. All they see is her smile. Even though she had just come to Christ, there was no smile radiating from her face today. It was a Sunday morning at our church in Macharote. She came after the service, obviously worried. I asked if I could pray with her. Looking up with tears in her eyes, she sobbed, “I have absolutely nothing. No husband. No children. No house. No property. I live in the front yard of a neighbor, but now she says she needs the space. What do I do?”

Him, look at the house He has given me!” I looked around her house. She had no table, not a single chair, and only a few pots. In the corner, she had a mat where she slept. But she is satisfied. The ministry of Green Door provided a house and created a sense of self-worth. She has a simple life. Every day, Grandma Chica sits in front of her house like a queen. Christ has raised her from the dirt and given her a home. She has a secure place to live and sleep. We thank God for those who have given to help and bless our Mozambican poor in this way. Noemia Cessito | Mozambique 2013

We shared Chica’s story and her deep need. Someone responded in compassion. Thanks to that donation, Grandma Chica has her own house. On the day it was dedicated, she danced! Sometime later, I went to visit her at home. She looked older and not well. I asked, “Grandma Chica, are you a follower of Jesus?” Suddenly, her famous, near-toothless smile lit up her face again as she exclaimed, “He means everything to me! Before I knew Christ, I lived in a chicken house with the ducks and chickens. But now that I know

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Blue walls of hope

saw children smile while they kicked a ball made from layer upon layer of trash bags bound together with string. I felt the ground vibrate while women pounded maize into flour. Laurinha, one of our caregivers, motioned me to follow her down a sandy path. Hens scurried to avoid us. To my right and left were small huts made of sticks, mud, and thatch. Many had a blanket hanging as a makeshift front door. I thought of the families who call these huts home. They have dirt floors and no electricity or running water. Without screens on the windows or locks on the doors, mosquitos and thieves have easy access. When the heavy rain season comes, they sleep standing up to avoid getting wet, ready to run should the mud walls collapse. As we walked, a burst of color caught my eye. I turned to see a small cement home painted sky blue with a silver tin roof and a green door. I was

told this was a “Green Door” home built for a woman named Catarina. She stood outside, ready with a smile and a handshake. It was hard for me to comprehend that this lovely woman was HIV+. An elderly man slowly made his way forward with a cane and stood next to her. I looked into his white, glazed eyes and realized he was blind. This man was Catarina’s brother, Chico. As a widower with no children, he depended on his sister for care. They used to live in a mud hut, and when the rains came and the roof leaked, blind Chico was helpless to make repairs. Chico and Catarina now have a safe, dry place to live. Screened windows protect them from malaria-carrying mosquitos. Locked doors protect them from thieves. Hope in the form of blue walls, silver roofs, and green doors springing up all over Dondo. - CRI Intern | Mozambique 2015

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“T

This well never runs dry

hank you, God, for providing clean water to our village. And thank you for Jesus Christ, our Savior, the Living Water who washes away our sins. Hallelujah!” The pastor’s prayer echoed through the windows and open front door of his church. Prasanna was standing right outside the church at the water well. She looked down as fresh and clean water poured out of the pump into her jug. Until recently, Prasanna had drawn water from a nearby pond—the same pond used for washing clothes and dishes and for bathing both animals and people. “Yes, God, whoever you are, thank you for giving my family clean water.” When Prasanna was a child, her father died of malaria. Since then, the family has moved from one crisis to another. Their mother was in poor health, they were often sick and hungry, and they could not afford to go to school. Day after day, Prasanna returned to that well to draw water for her family. As she heard the songs and shouts of “Hallelujah,” her curiosity grew. What did that pastor mean when he spoke of Living Water? Why did this Christian church

allow her to draw water from their well, free of charge, even though she was Hindu and of the “untouchable” caste? She waited as the church service came to a close. As the pastor was closing the church for the day, she asked, Please pastor can you tell me, what is the Living Water you speak of? Pastor Bushanam smiled. Walk with me, he said. Jesus is the Living Water, and His well never runs dry. His followers gave us this water well so we could know his love for us. He shared some of his favorite stories from the Bible. He told her how Jesus cared for the untouchables of His time and does so still today. The next Sunday, Prasanna brought her whole family to church, and they came back the next Sunday, and the next. Their health began to improve, and they knew it was because of the clean and Living Water this Christian God had provided. Now, their voices can be heard, too, flowing out to the village with songs of praise and Hallelujahs. - Pastor Ananth G. | India 2013

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Water for thirsty souls

ello, my name is Rajya Laxmi. My husband and I live in a small village in India called Dirsinapalli. Our families are from the Hindu religion, but we know Jesus through the witness of Pastor Raju. Recently, a water well was drilled right next door to our church. I want to tell you how this well has changed my life. Before the well, the women and girls in our village would walk a mile and more to a pond on the outskirts of the forest to collect water. We would travel in groups—never alone. We were afraid, knowing we could be attacked by bad men or even bears and tigers. That pond was our only source of water. We cleaned our clothes in it, washed and watered our animals and ourselves. It looked dirty, smelled dirty, and tasted dirty. I hated using that water to cook. I hated to drink it even more, but I had no choice.

I go to draw water. Not only do I have clean water for my family to drink, but for the rest of my life, I no longer have to walk down a dangerous path each day. Since the well was drilled, many villagers have come to our church. You see, anyone can drink the water from our well, whether they come to church or not. They come because they are curious. They heard that Christians from far away gave money so we could all have clean water. They cannot understand why someone we have never met would care about us. I know why, though, and I try to explain it to them. In time, they will know Jesus, too. Thank you for caring about us enough to help. When I thank God for our water, I thank Him for you too. May He bless you and keep you. - Pastor Ananth G. | India 2012

The first time I drank from the new water well, I could not believe how clear and clean the water was, and it tasted good! I thank God every time

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Drilling a well in India

And together, let us embrace our part in the greatest story.

It’s About The Children T

hese stories show why “children” is in our mission statement. Most of our programs begin with them. None of our projects are without them. Children, of course, have families, and much of our aid goes through the parents on behalf of the kids. In this section, we find some of our more amusing stories. I am particularly fond of “My Cow is Pink.”

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Riya’s mother trusts me

here is nothing more profound nor compelling than sitting on a bench in the brothels of Kolkata and praying with someone who makes such a living. The cry of our hearts as mothers, regardless of what we must do, is to want more for our children than what we have had for ourselves. The dreams of seeing our children go further, be more, and accomplish goals for the greater good of humanity are the same around the world. We women, children of the Creator, are all the same in our hearts. Even from different cultures with different rules some of us are in powerless bondage. Riya’s mother walked in. Her first reaction was to smile, say hello, and then sit next to me, taking my hand in hers as she spoke about her daughter. She knows my face, we have become friends, and she trusts me. My trips to this city have helped her gain confidence in me.

International is working to place her in a boarding school away from the brothels. We have reassured Riya’s mother that we at CRI are here for the long run. We are here to help her daughter have a different life, a life outside of the red-light district of Kolkata. She leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms around her and prayed that she would have the courage to trust us. I prayed that she would continue to allow us to help her and Riya. Not so long ago, Riya’s mother was unwilling to let her go outside the walls of the brothels. A daughter is the next in line to support an aging parent. She becomes their security blanket. This is their life, this is their culture, and this is why we are there: To help children like Riya avoid having to go down that desperate road. - Kathy Knight, CRI Missionary, Retired India 2020

Riya is now 12 years old, and at that age when girls enter into “the profession.” She is a virgin, a prize, a valuable income resource for a family. But for Riya, there is hope to escape that life. Children’s Relief

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God gives different talents

iego stared at the words in front of him. They looked like lines and shapes that didn’t have any real meaning. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Maybe that would help, and he would understand the words. But when he looked again, it was the same confusing jumble. Why couldn’t he work on math instead? Numbers always made sense to him. Or better yet, why couldn’t he draw? That was something he loved to do. The other kids in his class often asked if he could draw them something. A farm, dragons, race cars, anything! He could draw it all. But now in fourth grade, it seemed like all his time was taken up with homework. The words were starting to move. He snapped to attention when he realized I was pulling the book away from him. On a clean sheet of paper, I wrote a letter. Diego squirmed in his seat, trying to figure out what the letter was before I asked, but he could not remember it.

So, I asked a different question instead. “Can you draw an águila (eagle) with this capital ‘A’?” Diego stared at the letter ‘A’ long and hard. Finally, he was able to imagine it. He carefully drew on the bottom two lines, the eagle’s legs and feet, and in the triangle, the face and beak. We went through the entire alphabet together. With each letter, Diego drew something that started with that letter. Seeing the drawings, he could easily recall the letter’s name and sounds. “God gives us different talents, Diego,” I told him. “And sometimes we can use those talents to learn new things. God gave you a talent for drawing, and you can use that talent to learn your letters— from águila all the way to zorro!” This is the purpose of Vida Victoriosa—to help children understand that God is a part of their lives, even in the small things such as turning the letter ‘A’ into an eagle. Thank you for choosing to be a part of this ministry. It means a lot to me and to the children. - Jessica Lopez, International Missionary Partner Mexico 2020

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The two “be’s”

hen we say, “Your sponsorship makes a difference,” we mean it. But sometimes, those words are simply not enough. They can’t convey the true impact your commitment makes in the lives of our Mudpaths children. The following story was shared by a visiting team member. We hope her experience will convey how important this ministry truly is. “As the sun set, literal darkness fell over the very real spiritual darkness of Kalighat. We needed to make one last stop to check on some street children Smriti hoped to invite into her program. The youngest of the four siblings was two or three years old—still a baby, really. She wore only a baggy pair of underwear. As we took our leave, the oldest child walked with us for a few blocks, chatting with Smriti. The youngest followed on our heels. There were no parents in sight. I assumed her big sister would take responsibility, though she was only eight or nine. Even so, I kept a close watch on the baby. When we were about to turn a corner, the baby

paused to decide whether to follow us. I offered to pick her up and carry her. She looked up at me with her sweet, smudged face, eyes wide. Then she turned and ran off into the darkness. In an instant, she was lost to me among the crowd. Our team leader informed me this was the norm. Children, even as young as this, wander the dark streets of Kalighat alone. My heart wept. It was a moment I will never forget.” The director of our Mudpaths Project, Smriti, chases after children like this each day. Through the dark and muddy paths of Kolkata’s slums, she runs after them with the light of Christ—with Bible teaching, education, good food, field trips, and lots of love. She carries them to a loving Savior. “I run my ministry according to two “Be’s,’” she says. “Be Christ-centered. Be child-centered. I teach these children a new way, a clean path, and a new King.” - Pam LeTourneau, Team Member | I India 2019

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The carpenter’s son

et me tell you the story of Sai Kumar and his father. Few jobs are open to people from the Dalit or untouchable caste, but one is carpentry. Sai Kumar’s father found irregular work in a shop that made chairs, tables, and beds. He is called in for work when there is an order to fill, then laid off when they are finished. Even when the work was steady, his income would not allow him to send his children to school. But one day, Sai Kumar’s father heard of an opening at a home in the big city of Rajahmundry. It took all the dollars he had saved to take his son on the 4-hour trip to find out if it was true. When they arrived, they nervously knocked on the door. Pastor Isaiah let them into the entryway and, after an interview, agreed to take Sai Kumar. And that was that. The decision was made. Sai Kumar said goodbye to his father and then cried for three days. But before long he began to play with the other kids in the home, and was eating and studying normally.

After a time, Sai Kumar’s father came for a visit. His son greeted him in a school uniform with new shoes and his own backpack. He showed his father his bed with a real mattress. His father was stunned. He said, “I have made beds in the carpentry shop all my life. But I have never slept in one. I could never afford one. Now, here you are.” He cried out and told Pastor Isaiah that he never dreamed his son would live like this. He said, “No Hindu organization would help a Dalit child in this way.” Sai Kumar is now in sixth grade and is a good student; he is second in his class. He has learned to respect himself and others. He wants to become a doctor. - Pastor Isaiah G. | India 2012

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I have no words y name is Mubunga Damali. I am a girl, about 17 years old, though I am not sure as I don’t have a birth certificate. I would like you to hear my story.

from an organization in America. Even now, it is hard for me to believe it actually happened. They paid for my tuition, my backpack, clothes, shoes, and books. It was amazing, amazing, amazing!! I thank God every day.

I live with my family in a village at the base of the Rwenzori mountains. It is beautiful here, but we are very poor. Three years ago, when I was about 14, my parents were so desperate that they were ready to sell me. Parents sometimes sell their daughters to older men to become their brides, but slave is a better word. I would have been trapped for life. It would have been a certain hell for me. Why would my parents do that to me? Well, my mother has been sick for a long time, and we have had no money to buy medicine for her. My father is an alcoholic and spends every last cent on that. My family had no money for clothes and barely enough to buy corn to grind for food. With me gone, there would be one less mouth to feed, and the money they would get from the sale would help them for months. But I said no. Absolutely no. My father beat me. I was totally miserable.

Now, three years later, I have graduated high school and am studying for my entrance exams to nursing college. The American organization is going to pay for my two years of training. I want so much to help my people live better lives, and now that is going to be possible. God, You are so wonderful! You are Holy. Your works are great! Glory to God most high! Thank you, thank you so much! CRI and Rev. Kule, God bless you more and more. The rest of the story: Damali is one of thirteen girls that CRI has rescued in this village from marriage slavery. She is the first of this group to graduate from High School. And the first to be supported through a two-year program to become a nurse. - Jason Pieratt, President | Uganda 2024

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They agreed to let her go

s Sakinha walked down the rows, pulling corn from the ripe plants, she pictured a room full of students like her. Despite never entering a classroom more than once or twice in her life, she imagined rows of children waiting for her next words of instruction. With a freshly plucked corn cob, she gestured to different diagrams on her imaginary chalkboard before her mother’s touch returned her to the task at hand. Moving down the furrow, she plucked and tossed another ear of corn into her basket. Sakhina worked alongside her parents. Even with the three of them planting and harvesting, they still struggled to earn enough for food. Her mother and father knew of Sakhina’s dreams but couldn’t afford to send her to school. They decided to ask a pastor in the village for help, despite the fact that they were Untouchables. The pastor told them about a Christian boarding school where Sakhina could attend school while being well cared for.

In 2015, Sakhina left her parents and village to live at our Rajah Children’s Home. She began to learn about the subjects she’d dreamt of. For the first time, she learned of God’s love. She had grown up hearing that, as an Untouchable, she was undeserving and worthless. The love of Christ completely changed the narrative she had spent so many years believing. When asked what makes her happy, Sakhina replied, “I am happy for the love of God for me.” For almost 10 years now, CRI has provided Sakhina with an education. Now, at 20, she is preparing to graduate from university. Her dream of standing in front of a blackboard as a science teacher is about to become a reality. - Hannah McBratney, CRI Missionary India 2024

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Leftovers in the sink

biye lives with his grandmother and handicapped father (his mother died during childbirth). The day we arrived for a visit, we discovered that he had disappeared. His family and neighbors had searched for three hours in the forest before finding him. And he is only about 4 years old. Abiye’s routine was to wake up each morning and go into the forest or look through their neighbor’s trash to scavenge for food. His father could hardly provide bread each day, much less think of sending his son to school. When we heard about Abiye, we decided to give him a chance. We admitted him into our Grace and Knowledge Academy and gave him clothes, shoes, socks, and books (these were the first set of shoes, socks, and supplies Abiye had ever received). Abiye had never been to school before, and he had not learned simple directions, so it was not easy to keep him in class. Even after eating his school lunch, he would go back to the leftovers in the sink and trash to find more food. It wasn’t that he was still hungry, it was just his old habits coming through.

Today, Abiye is reading the alphabet letters A-Z, can write letters A-J, can count numbers 1-50, and is even saying a few English words. His story gives us joy and has, at times, brought tears to our eyes. This little boy is the reason we have been called to this community. We are here so that children like Abiye can know the love of Jesus Christ and receive a good education, which is the foundation for a better life. Dear faithful friends, we have been on this journey of faith together, and we can all testify to the goodness of God. Together, we are going to build this wonderful school for these children. You and I can make this happen for the glory of God and for the good of His neediest children. We will be proud when we stand before the King and say, “Yes, Lord, we did this in your name.” - Blessing Rowland-Adeniyi International Missionary Partner Nigeria 2013

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My cow is pink

ur school in western Kenya is called Mayatima, which means orphan (in Swahili). It runs a lot like a big family. Before I visit the home of one of our sponsored kids, I don’t need to make appointments. I can just show up and am always greeted like a brother or an uncle. I get out every day to see our kids, check on their health, and make sure they have food. Sometimes, George, our project director, comes along. When I visited little Ann Wanjiku Njoki earlier this week, he was with me. When she saw George’s car drive up, she took off running and hollered into the small hut she calls home, “Grandfather is here.” That is George’s nickname with our project’s kids. Her mother didn’t make it to the sponsorship meeting at the office last week, so George was concerned. But everything was fine. Ann loves to draw and paint, and she likes to use every possible color. She showed us a pink cow she had drawn. “Why pink?” I asked. She answered, “Because that’s the color my cows would be.”

George returned to the car to retrieve a blanket he had bought for Ann. So many of our children here in Kenya sleep with very little in the way of blankets. Ann took it to her mother and said, “Grandfather brought this for you.” George interjected and said, “No, it’s not for your mother, it’s for you.” That brought a big smile. She started jumping up and down and dancing in circles. “Thank you, thank you, and thank you.” It’s the little things that make our children happy. You must understand what Ann’s life would be like if she did not have a sponsor. Her future would be grim. She would not be in school. She would be hungry more often than not. She would have a remote chance of hearing how much Jesus loves her. Thank you to our sponsors for changing the lives of Ann and others like her. - Emmanuel Chege Mayatima Project Staff Worker Kenya 2008

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He leads me right to them ome, come! We need to take the train to the next village. I have been before. There is so much need. I was with Smriti, CRI’s international missionary in Kolkata. We’ve nicknamed her “Mighty Mouse” as she is fearless for her Lord.

The village was two stops down the line from the train station. I expected to see poverty as the places where Smriti works are always poor. What I did not expect was to meet two precious little girls, Puja and Mumby. This place, these girls, were not on my radar. I had no idea what God was up to but He led me right to them. God led Puja and Mumby right to me. We walked into their home. There was nothing in the room except for a bowl of food that a cat was eating. It was supposed to be that day’s meal for the girls. We found out that their mother is a refugee from Bangladesh. She is a brothel worker during the day, looking and waiting for the next call to service to earn a small wage to buy food and pay rent. Puja, who is 8, and Mumby, who is 6, had never attended school, so they did not know how to read or count. Their future could have been the same as their absent mother. It is a common way of life for the women of the lower caste in India. Their landlord begged us to take the children, the neighbors begged us to take the girls—there would be no hope for Puja and Mumby unless someone helped. My heart was heavy. Here were two little girls for all purposes, abandoned. What were the chances that we

could do anything? I offered them each a hand stitched doll. Their smiles and out-stretched arms helped my heart feel lighter. Maybe there was hope. Today, Puja and Mumby are living at a boarding school and a Christian one at that! They are learning their numbers and ABCs and have a bed to sleep in with meals served three times a day. An American couple has committed to long-term provision for these precious ones— God bless them! Thank you to those who support me through gifts, prayers and encouragement. Because of you I was in India on that train and in that home, that day. God knew. Puja and Mumby are now two more of the chosen whose lives will be forever changed because of the love of Christ being shown through His people. Thank you for taking this journey with me, “even just for one.” Thank you to those of you who support me through gifts, prayers and encouragement. Because of you I was in India on that train and in that home, that day. God knew.

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Puja and Mumby are now two more of the chosen, whose lives will be forever changed because of the love of Christ being shown through His people. Thank you for taking this journey with me, “even just for one.” - Kathy Knight, CRI Missionary, Retired India 2013 PostScript A few years after we placed the sisters in a Christian Boarding school, it seemed that Puja was not well. After a flurry of doctor appointments, tests, and medications we were told that she had AIDS. Her diagnoses came too late. In February of 2021, at the age of 13, Puja went home to her Heavenly father. Her sister Mumby has graduated from Secondary School and is planning to enter a nursing program. With the help of the donors who started supporting these sisters early on, and with Smriti’s care, we are hopeful that Mumby will thrive. May God’s protective hand will be with her always.

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A place of joy Laughter echoed from the van windows as our team pulled into a sandy open space outside Dondo, Mozambique. We climbed out, eager to visit a new children’s ministry, expecting to play soccer or teach games to a lively group of kids.

Our chatter faded as we walked to an open shelter in the center of the lot. Fifty pairs of eyes stared at us from small bodies sitting cross-legged on straw mats. These boys and girls were not like those we had previously encountered. Young children comforted crying baby brothers wrapped in dirty fabric capulanas. They didn’t move to grab our hands or play with our hair. They didn’t smile or laugh. Helena and Ramizia greeted us. Orphaned at a young age themselves, the sisters recognized a need and brought together this group of children once a week to eat a meal, sing, and learn about Jesus. “These children are all HIV positive,” Helena explained to us, and then turned to them. “Who here has parents?” Only five raised hands. She called three children to the front. Open sores, a sign of weakened immunity due to HIV, covered one boy’s forearm. Flies covered the open sores. “These three are orphans and have no guardian to take care of them. They live by themselves.” In silence, we unloaded food out of the car. One by one, we served each child a piece of bread, lettuce, a boiled egg, and tea. It was the most wholesome meal they would receive all week, and they waited until everyone had been served before taking a bite.

I sat with a small boy and watched him pray. “Dear Lord,” he said, hands clasped and eyes scrunched earnestly, “Thank you for this food. Thank you for the people who visit us.” As I helped him peel his boiled egg, I longed for a New Heaven and Earth more than ever before. I longed to sit with this boy in resurrected bodies free from sickness and decay. I longed to play with him on a transformed earth, not a land still reeling from the effects of war. I wanted him to know a world characterized by goodness and beauty—not a land of injustice and death. And yet they named this ministry Place of Joy. It is a place that brings foretastes of shalom to the present. Every meal, every song, and every story allows these children to behold the character of God—Redeemer, Reconciler, Good Father. The sisters fight for that joy. To glimpse the rare smile of a child means they must enter their stories through home visits, care for the sick, and fierce prayer. We bear the image of a redemptive God by taking part in his redemptive work. We hold pain and joy in tension when we see the world as it was intended and as it will one day be. May we enter the stories of children like these and allow them to enter ours. And together, let us embrace our part in the greatest story as we anticipate that ultimate “place of joy.” - Paloma (Douglas) Lee, CRI Intern | Mozambique 2016 PostScript: Helena died in 2021 in a tragic bus accident. She is now with God in the ultimate place of joy.

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Faces of CRI

The stories in this section demonstrate our belief that God led us, often with an invisible hand.

Why We Do What We Do W

e have a broad and farreaching mission, but we are keenly aware that we cannot help and reach everyone with the light of Christ. The stories in this section demonstrate our belief that God led us, often with an invisible hand, to be in these places to help these people. These are success stories: children and families who were reached with the Word and helped in some tangible way.

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A tap on the shoulder

s we finished lunch, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was attending a conference in the Kiryandongo Refugee Camp in Uganda with our international missionary partner, Martin Kuku, and several other pastors. When I turned around, a girl who had helped cook the meal was standing there.

I am thankful the girl had the courage to ask for help. It made all the difference. Had she not asked, her story would have been different. Yet because she did ask, Jesus used my “Yes, I can help,” to strengthen and encourage one of His weakest children. I became part of Jesus’ story in her life. And I am thankful that her story is now a part of my own.

Her voice shook, and tears rolled down her face as she said in soft, broken English, “Dr. Jason, please help my mother.” After many questions and some help from Pastor Martin, I learned that this South Sudanese refugee had lost every member of her family during the war, with the exception of her mother. Now, her mother was close to death. Without an emergency surgery, she only had a few days to live. The cost was just under $300. “Dr. Jason, can you help us? If I lose her, I think I may die.”

You have been a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in their distress, a shelter from the storm, and a shade v from the heat.

As we drove back to Kampala the next day, Pastor Martin’s phone rang. It was the girl. Her soft, broken English was shaking with tears, but this time they were tears of joy. “My mother is alive! Thank you!” The call ended with a prayer of gratitude to God.

For the breath of the ruthless, is like a storm driving against a wall. (Isaiah 25:4) The life-changing event started with a tap on the shoulder and a willingness to listen. - Jason Pieratt, President | Uganda 2023

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Child bride on the mountain side

t 13, Jane’s parents sold her to an older man who lived up the side of the Rwenzori mountain. The price for her hand was a share of the upcoming harvest. Angry tears streamed down Jane’s face as she shared her story with me. She asked me this question: How is it possible that my parents sold me to an older man for food? How could they do that to me? I am just a young girl. With the question ringing in my ears, the face of my daughter Keller shot to the front of my mind. Jane and Keller are the same age. Jane spoke with a spark in her eye, similar to Keller’s fire-eyed spirit. At CRI, we often talk about working in hill country and fighting the giants that live there. It isn’t too often that I find myself on the side of a literal mountain face to face with the giant of injustice to young girls Keller’s age. The hills are steep, and the giant has an ancient grip. If Keller had been born to different parents on the side of that mountain, she’d be a child bride, too. Sold and angry as hell for the wrong done to her. And while Jane didn’t tell me how long she had to

be a child bride, I sensed that it was not long. I was told she fought off the old man and would not stay on the mountain with him. She sought refuge with a local pastor. Reverend Kule pleaded with her parents and found guardians in his church who would take her in. Money to pay for boarding school was found. A child bride no more. Jane is fortunate. She and the others that we are helping are outliers in a place where most aren’t found by the kindness of those who love Christ. I am thankful for Rev. Kule. He has asked me if CRI will help him reach 100 girls. That is a big ask. As I consider the request and the weight of a yes or a no, I take courage in what I know. Our organization is battle-worn. We know how to climb mountains and fight giants. Perhaps the Lord will see fit to allow us missionaries and supporters (you) to fight alongside and for Jane and her friends. Mad as hell at the injustice! Thankful for the opportunity to share the light of Christ in Word and deed! And always trusting that we can help Jane and more like her if the Lord is with us. - Jason Pieratt, President | Uganda 2023

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More cow bell

uring my recent trip to our project in Myanmar, we attempted to reach the home village of one of the boys we support. The roads we traveled ran towards the Chin Hills and made for slow-going. An hour into the journey, we stopped to look at the river we would need to cross to reach our destination. Its fingers stretched around river rock islands. The team took in the rural sounds: The hum of a far-off tractor, fast-moving water over rocks, the wind through the tall grasses that lined the river, and the clanging of a bell in the distance. It was the type of bell that kept the pace of whatever it was on. As we walked to the river bed, it grew louder and closer. Soon, the tall grass revealed a water buffalo (or an Asian cow - not sure). The bell kept pace as the buffalo ignored our group on the river bank. Whoever that creature belongs to trusts in that bell. Clearly, it was how it would be heard and found.

That small bell kept the pace, making his presence known with a clear tone, providing a means of identification and protection from being missed, regardless of conditions (silence, noise, darkness). So, too, our work keeps the pace of the poor and needy in our care, making their presence known, providing a means for identification, protection, and love to those who are often missed in the silence, and noise, and darkness. When we ring the bell, we ring loud and clear as people who identify with Christ, the one who has called and sent all His people to love him and care for their neighbor (both near and far). You have trusted that the prayers and financial support you share with us do, in fact, ring out care and love for God’s people. We are thankful for that trust. We hope that the good we are accomplishing in Christ’s name is something you claim and hold dear, too. - Jason Pieratt, President | Myanmar 2017

On the way back, I stopped at a local shop and bought a buffalo bell. The shopkeeper thought I was crazy and just laughed and laughed. But I thought, “Best fifty cents I spent all year!” The bell sits by my desk at home as a reminder of our purpose.

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The ice cream man n 2007, while sitting at her kitchen table, Noemia Cessito shared this story with me.

I came to Mozambique in 1984 as a missionary nurse from Brazil. I was just a young lady then, not much more than 20 years old. At that time, Mozambique was in the middle of a 15-year civil war. It was a very hard time. In fact, the first day I arrived in the country, I was walking to an evening church service when I came across a man lying in a ditch. I went over to help and never made it to church that evening. People were dying from the fighting, and people were dying from starvation. I can tell you, I’ve seen it all. One evening, I went to our church for a mid-week prayer service. Later that night, in my little apartment, I got down on my knees to pray more for the war because I had heard about a battle on the Zambezi River. In the middle of thinking about that, I got this desire for some ice cream. There was no ice cream in Mozambique at that time. But I do love ice cream. I thought, “Good Lord! How could I possibly think about ice cream now when there is so much war and starvation around me?” But yet, deep in my heart, I heard a voice saying, “Ask for some ice cream from God.” I ignored the thought. How could I possibly ask for ice cream when so many people are starving and are in so much need? I started to pray again for the war. But, my mouth started to water because I so wanted to have some ice cream. Then, all of a sudden, I said to God, “God, I would sure love to taste some ice cream again.” And then, I thought, how selfish can I be! I think I was crying a little because I was homesick too.’ About noon the next day, I was home for some reason. I don’t remember why. And a big truck coming from our port city of Beira and heading inland to Zimbabwe rumbled up to my

apartment and parked. We get a lot of trucks like that passing through here, but none have ever stopped at my apartment. The driver got out and came up to my door and knocked. I couldn’t understand him because he was speaking English and I speak Portuguese. But I did understand that he was looking for someone named Naomi. He kept saying “Naomi, Naomi.” I finally realized that Naomi must be my name, which is Noemia, in English. So I said, I’m Naomi, and took the package from him. When I touched it my heart froze. I knew right away what it was because the box was cold. So I asked the driver, “Who sent this? Where did it come from?” He didn’t understand me exactly, but finally, through gestures I got out of him that someone at the airport had given him that box to deliver to “Naomi.” It had been flown in on a plane from South Africa. To this day I have no idea who sent it or where it came from. Well, I put that little carton of ice cream in the freezer of my refrigerator with a sense of overwhelming gratitude. It was then that I began to understand that I can ask God even the most insignificant things. Since then, I’ve faced a lot of hard times. I’ve nearly died of malaria, and I’ve gone hungry. But, as the many difficulties arose, I would remember that carton of ice cream. It’s the biggest lesson of my life. Then she paused, looked at me and said, “Jeronimo and I have been praying for a long time for God to send us help to this village. We need a Christian school. We need a medical clinic. We need help to help our people. And now here you are. You, too, are the ice cream man!” You and your organization have brought us everything we have been praying for. - Alan Pieratt, Founder | Mozambique 2007

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Sung Sung

ot long ago, Melody and I visited our Shalem Christian Academy. It was a long trip, and we arrived on a hot day, but we were looking forward to meeting the children. They showed up one by one along with a few parents. By the time we finished with introductions and listening to a short program, I was exhausted to the point of nausea. It was time to go back to the hotel. But as we left, something happened. We bumped into a student, a shy little girl. Our project leader suddenly became serious and said, “Oh, look. This is SungSung. She is 11, and her dad recently died. She has 4 brothers and sisters, and her mother is going to take her out of school to help support the family. SungSung will make about $35 a month and be a laborer for the rest of her life.” Here was this little girl looking up at me with a blank face and sad eyes. “Oh,” I said, “I’m so sorry. How did her father die?” Our leader replied, “Her dad was caught in last month’s flood and was swept away in the rising waters.” On top of my exhaustion, Sung Sung’s story was just too much. I felt terrible. I felt depressed. What is the point of having a school if we can’t prevent a tragedy that destroys the family of one of our students? That was the gist of my thinking on the ride back to the hotel. I was experiencing a dark feeling.

Then I heard a very strong thought—it came into my mind as clear as crystal: “This is why you are here.” Just six words, but I understood their full meaning: “What do you mean by your discouragement? This is why you are here. You are here to help this family. Do you think your timing was by accident?” In seconds, my discouragement was swept away. I contacted two donors and asked if they could send a special gift for Sung Sung. Indeed, they could! Sung Sung would be able to stay in school. I can’t tell you how relieved our project leader was. How amazingly, fundamentally, from the bottom of his heart relieved that he could help this family in Christ’s name. “This is why you are here.” Those words aren’t just for me. They are for you, too. You give because, at some point, and in some way, you also have heard God’s voice speak on behalf of the needy. “I want you to help the poor, the lost, the sick, and the suffering. I am claiming you to care and to help children like Sung Sung.” There are many Sung Sungs in our world today. We have been called to share the light of Christ with everyone that we can. - Alan Pieratt, Founder | Myanmar 2015

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Sweet sticky grace

iants are real. Evolved from fairy tales, they operate under different names today and in subtler ways, but wreak just as much havoc as the creatures of old. India is full of these modern-day giants. I battled oppression as I prayed with women hammering mountains of rock as immovable as their debt. I clashed with deep poverty as I held a half-naked little girl, and challenged ignorance as I told the gospel story to ears hearing it for the first time. I spent my last week in India with Children’s Relief International leaders Jayesh and Rani. Our group accompanied them on their monthly visit to a government-run home for children infected with HIV. I nearly missed the small boy sitting in the furthest and tiniest room. A rust orange shirt swallowed his skinny frame. His hands lay limp in his lap, and his inky hair gleamed in the fading light. His name is Sandesh. He is in isolation. Tuberculosis. Highly contagious. Most likely, he will die. I walked over and crouched next to him. Why don’t you give him a mango? Rani suggested. Sandesh looked surprised, but his small fingers wrapped around the gift, his fingernails bitten down to the quick. Encouraged by his slight grin, I pantomimed praying for him. He nodded his head in agreement. I lay my

hand on his shoulder and closed my eyes, but I had no words. God, why are you allowing this boy to die? Why did you leave him alone? My answer seemed to float in on the breeze. You’ve all been given a death sentence. My tears slowed, then stopped. Peace came. I wrote Sandesh a letter explaining who Jesus is. Rani promised to translate and deliver it on her next visit. I would like to say the rest of the trip was easy -that I never grew discouraged again, but it wasn’t, and I did. Yet, for every giant I saw, I met a hero ready to make a stand. I witnessed hope in the prostitutes who dared to dream of a better life for their daughters. Joy in the little girl who sang songs about a God her parents deny. Grace in the sweet, sticky juice of a mango. Christ is not asking us to single-handedly eliminate every giant, but he is calling and commanding us to pick up our swords and go to battle. For if David sat back, who would have slain Goliath? If I hadn’t flown across the world, who would have sat on that rooftop with a lonely, scared little boy? We are called to slay giants. It’s time we did. - Allison Mock, CRI Intern | India 2015

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Why take a picture of that ?

recently traveled to our Mudpaths Project in India. It was hot in Kolkata! 106+! The heat was hard to deal with, but the adrenaline of seeing the good work being done made it bearable. We spent a lot of time in the village of Gorangacha. What a site! The community is a small slum of one-room brick buildings with tin rooftops. The mud paths between the buildings are full of trash and damp from dishwater and worse. There were children everywhere. When we showed up, they came out of their homes to watch us. We took pictures of them and the conditions in which they lived. As I was taking pictures of the trash and the “bathrooms,” I could hear the thoughts of the little ones who were watching me closely…….Why in the world is this big strange America taking pictures of THAT?!

“awakening” of just a few people to their needs could make a huge difference in their little lives! They don’t know that, but I do! It is a blessing to serve these children in our Mudpaths outreach. They hear about Christ, pray with hope, and learn that their poverty is not from God. They are being exposed to a new way, a clean path, and a new King. May we tell their stories well, and may our Lord bless the effort and multiply the aid sent! Those kids could use it!” - Jason Pieratt, President | India 2014

Fair question! The pictures are taken because there are stories to tell - stories about great need, low places, and the children who suffer in them. The little ones watching me didn’t know that there are countries full of people who would cringe at the sight of trash and human waste steps away from toddlers. Nor would they know that the

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A prayer with João Carlos Noemia: Hello João. Would you want some soup? João: Yes, thank you.

João: Ok. Noemia: Ok, I want you to close your eyes. Place your thoughts on

Noemia: Can we have a prayer?

God. If you can’t hear, I’ll come closer to you. Ok?

Can you pray João Carlos?

João: Yes.

Noemia: Lord Jesus, I want to receive you now as my Savior.

Noemia: Do you have Jesus in your heart?

João: Lord Jesus, I want to receive you now as my Savior.

João: Yes. Noemia: Did you invite Jesus into your heart? João: Not yet. Noemia: For Jesus to enter your heart, you need to invite Him. No one enters your home if you don’t allow them. When you invite Jesus to enter your heart, he changes your life. João: That’s good. Noemia: Even if here you are suffering tremendously, you will have a place in Heaven.

Noemia: Enter my heart and cleanse my sins. João: Enter my heart and cleanse my sins. Noemia: Make in me a child of God. João: Make in me a child of God Noemia: I receive you now as my Savior. João: I receive you now as my Savior. Noemia: Prepare a place for me in Heaven. João: Prepare a place for me in Heaven. Noemia: In the name of Jesus. Amen. João:: In the name of Jesus. Amen.

João: That’s good.

Noemia: Amen.

Noemia: Do you want this?

João: Amen

João: Yes. Noemia: Do you want to invite Jesus to come into your heart? João: Yes.

Noemia: Ok, I’ll speak and you repeat.

Noemia: Ok João, brother Joao. God bless you. João: Thank you. - Mozambique 2011

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Faces of CRI

The Future:

We step forward today

or 25 years, Children’s Relief International has followed God’s heart for the poor, stepping into the hill country—the hardest places, where poverty and spiritual darkness remain deeply rooted. We are humbled by how the Lord has worked through CRI, bringing His love and truth where hope once seemed lost. But the work is far from over. As we look ahead to the next twentyfive, our mission will not slow down—it will continue to climb, step by step, with faith, prayer, integrity, and an unshakable commitment to the call—sharing the light of Christ with the poor in Word and deed. In Word, we will raise up and equip missionaries, disciple believers, plant churches, strengthen pastors, and teach the Word to children and their families. We will boldly proclaim the truth of the Gospel, ensuring it is shared and lived out in the communities we serve. In Deed, we will feed the hungry, bring clean water, shelter, medical care, and education—extending Christ’s love to those

in desperate need, declaring that darkness will not have the final word. As we grow, we will steward every resource entrusted to us with integrity and transparency, investing wisely in the people and places we serve. We will walk alongside our missionaries and international partners, ensuring they are prepared, supported, and equipped for the challenges of hill country ahead. Prayer will remain central to our mission—not just a practice, but the power that sustains and propels us forward. By 2050, we will see a global network of living bridges—missionaries, donors, and communities bound together in faith and purpose, walking side by side to bring lasting transformation. But we will not wait for 2050—we step forward today. The giants of poverty and spiritual darkness will not fall on their own. The hill country is before us. Let’s climb together. Jason Pieratt, President, D.Miss, M.CCM, M.Ed

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Faces of CRI

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Faces of CRI

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You Know Who You Are

hank you to all who have been a part of Children’s Relief International these past 25 years. You know who you are.

You may be a staff member, retired, resigned, or current. You may be a missionary partner who has stayed with us even in the hard times. You may be a former board member, or one serving now. You may be someone who gave when you could and even when you couldn’t. To all of you, we know that Children’s Relief International would not be who we are today without you. Through your involvement - past, present, and hopefully future - you are sharing the light of Christ with us to the poor of our time through Word and deed. We hope you feel good about that. With gratitude,

Alan & Melody Pieratt Jason & Lindy Pieratt

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