Hello friends of the ministry,
For thirteen years, I have written to you every few months to keep you updated on what is happening in the ministry, what God is doing, and at times to share specific needs so you can join in prayer to our faithful God.
I understand that some of you do not follow Facebook, where I often post more frequent updates, photos, and glimpses into daily ministry life. Over the years, some of you have expressed a desire to better understand what it is like to serve here in a foreign nation. Because of that, I want to share a very real account from just yesterday—one that reflects both the weight and the urgency of the work you are helping sustain through your prayers:
Yesterday was one of those days that pressed hard on the soul—spiritually and emotionally. You could feel the battle from the moment it began. The devil does not hide his intentions. The fiery darts come, sometimes subtle, sometimes relentless. But even in the middle of it all, one truth stood firm in my heart: 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.
I began the day on the far side of town—an area with more money and comfort, yet just as much need. Sin doesn’t respect income levels. I spoke with a homeless woman, a few drug addicts, a drug dealer, and a young college student. Different faces, different circumstances—but all sharing the same need for Christ.
What weighed heavily on me were two separate conversations with individuals who sincerely believed they were not sinners at all. Not that they were trying to live good lives, but that they truly saw no sin in themselves. I spent time with them in the Scriptures, walking through God’s Law and gently trying to help them see what God says. But they would not move.
And I told them, as gently but as clearly as I could—Christ came and died for sinners. If a person refuses to see themselves as a sinner, they will never see their need for a Savior. And if they have no need for a Savior, they have no hope except for hell. That reality doesn’t make me angry—it breaks me. Because deception doesn’t feel like darkness when you’re inside of it. It feels like the truth. And Jeremiah 17:9 reminds us how deceptive and perverted the human heart really is.
A couple of hours later, I found myself in a very different place—a central park known for heavy drug use, homelessness, and prostitution. The demonic presence there is thick. You don’t just see brokenness—I could feel the demonic oppression. Temptation, darkness, confusion—it presses in from every inch of the park. For a moment, I felt overwhelmed. I even thought about leaving.
And then, just as quickly, God intervened.
The Spirit of God stirred something fresh in me—an urgency, a burden, a strength that I did not have a moment before. It was as if my eyes were opened wider, and all I could see were the many souls wandering… people standing on the edge of eternity with no one trying to rescue them.
I immediately walked straight toward them.
I approached a small group, three men and one woman, sitting on the grass, smoking crack. Everything in my flesh felt sick. But God doesn’t call us to comfort; He calls us to obedience. I sat down on the grass next to them. I tried to speak to them about hope, healing, about Christ, about God’s peace. Outwardly, it may not have seemed like much was happening, but I have learned that God often works beneath the surface in ways we cannot immediately see.
Afterward, I moved across the park and met a group of male prostitutes. Right there, in plain sight, a drug dealer was selling cocaine. No hiding. No shame. Just open darkness.
And something rose up in me—not anger at people, but a deep, burning anger at what sin and Satan are doing to them.
I looked that dealer in the face and told him plainly—he needs to repent, and that death is coming. The dealer didn’t like my words. He pushed back, got defensive, tried to shut the conversation down.
But one of the men in the group must have seen Christ’s light; he blurted out a question, and I moved toward him, ignoring the drug dealer. I sat next to him on the bench and began to speak words of life. He listened. Really listened. He asked many questions. You could see something stirring.
At one point, the dealer interrupted us and tried to offer him some cocaine. And without even thinking, I spoke up and said, “Leave us alone.” Then I quoted John 10:10 from the Bible: “𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑙, 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑦.” 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑓. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐽𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦.”
And he declined the drugs and refocused on our conversation.
God encouraged me with this thought, “This is a battlefield, but it’s also a rescue mission. Keep courageous.”
Later, I walked past another group and sat down next to a young woman. She was strikingly beautiful; her name matched her appearance: Michelle. She allowed me to sit next to her, and we had a good, long discussion about her need for Christ. Underneath the surface, it is clear that she is filled with confusion, deception, and pain. Sin never delivers what it promises, but it keeps people believing that it will.
She listened as I shared Christ with her. I don’t know what she’ll do with it. But I know this—truth was placed in her path today.
By the time I left the park, I was drained, but grateful. But the day wasn’t finished yet.
Even in my time alone at a mall, Satan shot another fiery dart. A moment came when I could have reacted in the flesh. But I did not—thank the LORD. I felt the strength of God. I stood still. I grinned with a big smile and said not a word. I simply prayed for the person.
And as simple as that sounds, I could feel the victory.
I just whispered, “Thank You, God,” as I walked away.
And so I tell you that days like this remind me why your prayers matter so much. You may not be physically here, but you are very much part of what God is doing. Your faithful prayers are not in vain; they are part of the strength and endurance the Lord provides in moments like these.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
On another note, God has opened the door for me to travel back to the United States on May 5th for a short two-week visit surrounding the release of my new book, IT IS ENOUGH! Finding Purpose in Suffering.
This book isn’t just something I’ve studied; it is rooted in real life. It’s what I see lived out every day in the lives of those I minister to, and in the bewildering difficulties the Lord allows us to walk through. I still have a few open dates and would be grateful for opportunities to speak in churches, ministries, or gatherings. If you would like me to come and share, please CONTACT me as soon as possible.
For those who pre-ordered the book, your copies should have arrived recently. For others, I encourage you to consider ordering a copy—not only for yourself but perhaps for someone walking through a difficult season and in need of encouragement.
You can order here: www.MissionFrontier.info/ItIsEnough.
THANK YOU, as always, for your faithful prayers, giving, and support. Your co-laboring in this work truly matters more than I can fully express.
Sincerely,
Lawrence Bowman
For thirteen years, I have written to you every few months to keep you updated on what is happening in the ministry, what God is doing, and at times to share specific needs so you can join in prayer to our faithful God.
I understand that some of you do not follow Facebook, where I often post more frequent updates, photos, and glimpses into daily ministry life. Over the years, some of you have expressed a desire to better understand what it is like to serve here in a foreign nation. Because of that, I want to share a very real account from just yesterday—one that reflects both the weight and the urgency of the work you are helping sustain through your prayers:
Yesterday was one of those days that pressed hard on the soul—spiritually and emotionally. You could feel the battle from the moment it began. The devil does not hide his intentions. The fiery darts come, sometimes subtle, sometimes relentless. But even in the middle of it all, one truth stood firm in my heart: 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.
I began the day on the far side of town—an area with more money and comfort, yet just as much need. Sin doesn’t respect income levels. I spoke with a homeless woman, a few drug addicts, a drug dealer, and a young college student. Different faces, different circumstances—but all sharing the same need for Christ.
What weighed heavily on me were two separate conversations with individuals who sincerely believed they were not sinners at all. Not that they were trying to live good lives, but that they truly saw no sin in themselves. I spent time with them in the Scriptures, walking through God’s Law and gently trying to help them see what God says. But they would not move.
And I told them, as gently but as clearly as I could—Christ came and died for sinners. If a person refuses to see themselves as a sinner, they will never see their need for a Savior. And if they have no need for a Savior, they have no hope except for hell. That reality doesn’t make me angry—it breaks me. Because deception doesn’t feel like darkness when you’re inside of it. It feels like the truth. And Jeremiah 17:9 reminds us how deceptive and perverted the human heart really is.
A couple of hours later, I found myself in a very different place—a central park known for heavy drug use, homelessness, and prostitution. The demonic presence there is thick. You don’t just see brokenness—I could feel the demonic oppression. Temptation, darkness, confusion—it presses in from every inch of the park. For a moment, I felt overwhelmed. I even thought about leaving.
And then, just as quickly, God intervened.
The Spirit of God stirred something fresh in me—an urgency, a burden, a strength that I did not have a moment before. It was as if my eyes were opened wider, and all I could see were the many souls wandering… people standing on the edge of eternity with no one trying to rescue them.
I immediately walked straight toward them.
I approached a small group, three men and one woman, sitting on the grass, smoking crack. Everything in my flesh felt sick. But God doesn’t call us to comfort; He calls us to obedience. I sat down on the grass next to them. I tried to speak to them about hope, healing, about Christ, about God’s peace. Outwardly, it may not have seemed like much was happening, but I have learned that God often works beneath the surface in ways we cannot immediately see.
Afterward, I moved across the park and met a group of male prostitutes. Right there, in plain sight, a drug dealer was selling cocaine. No hiding. No shame. Just open darkness.
And something rose up in me—not anger at people, but a deep, burning anger at what sin and Satan are doing to them.
I looked that dealer in the face and told him plainly—he needs to repent, and that death is coming. The dealer didn’t like my words. He pushed back, got defensive, tried to shut the conversation down.
But one of the men in the group must have seen Christ’s light; he blurted out a question, and I moved toward him, ignoring the drug dealer. I sat next to him on the bench and began to speak words of life. He listened. Really listened. He asked many questions. You could see something stirring.
At one point, the dealer interrupted us and tried to offer him some cocaine. And without even thinking, I spoke up and said, “Leave us alone.” Then I quoted John 10:10 from the Bible: “𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑙, 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑦.” 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑓. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐽𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦.”
And he declined the drugs and refocused on our conversation.
God encouraged me with this thought, “This is a battlefield, but it’s also a rescue mission. Keep courageous.”
Later, I walked past another group and sat down next to a young woman. She was strikingly beautiful; her name matched her appearance: Michelle. She allowed me to sit next to her, and we had a good, long discussion about her need for Christ. Underneath the surface, it is clear that she is filled with confusion, deception, and pain. Sin never delivers what it promises, but it keeps people believing that it will.
She listened as I shared Christ with her. I don’t know what she’ll do with it. But I know this—truth was placed in her path today.
By the time I left the park, I was drained, but grateful. But the day wasn’t finished yet.
Even in my time alone at a mall, Satan shot another fiery dart. A moment came when I could have reacted in the flesh. But I did not—thank the LORD. I felt the strength of God. I stood still. I grinned with a big smile and said not a word. I simply prayed for the person.
And as simple as that sounds, I could feel the victory.
I just whispered, “Thank You, God,” as I walked away.
And so I tell you that days like this remind me why your prayers matter so much. You may not be physically here, but you are very much part of what God is doing. Your faithful prayers are not in vain; they are part of the strength and endurance the Lord provides in moments like these.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
On another note, God has opened the door for me to travel back to the United States on May 5th for a short two-week visit surrounding the release of my new book, IT IS ENOUGH! Finding Purpose in Suffering.
This book isn’t just something I’ve studied; it is rooted in real life. It’s what I see lived out every day in the lives of those I minister to, and in the bewildering difficulties the Lord allows us to walk through. I still have a few open dates and would be grateful for opportunities to speak in churches, ministries, or gatherings. If you would like me to come and share, please CONTACT me as soon as possible.
For those who pre-ordered the book, your copies should have arrived recently. For others, I encourage you to consider ordering a copy—not only for yourself but perhaps for someone walking through a difficult season and in need of encouragement.
You can order here: www.MissionFrontier.info/ItIsEnough.
THANK YOU, as always, for your faithful prayers, giving, and support. Your co-laboring in this work truly matters more than I can fully express.
Sincerely,
Lawrence Bowman
