Delicately my friend sets a well-used plastic shopping bag in front of us on the floor. We’ve been sitting for a while on a piece of folded old carpet and drinking strong tea out of miniature glasses. The plastic bag is stuffed with old photographs. 

Wearily, his mom leaves the family’s one-room home at the bottom of the apartment building to walk to the store. Her preteen son quietly sneaks out the door and peeks around the building corner to make sure that his mother is not turning back for something she forgot. He already knows that his father is away.

Lebanon is a small country, and I used to live on the outskirts of Beirut, which is overpopulated. People were friendly and curious about others, especially when their new neighbor was the only Asian-American in that area. 

With thumb and forefinger she wipes the tears welling up in her eyes. . .

Recently, during a meeting with the staff of a local organization we work with here in Lebanon, we were reminded that sometimes miracles take time.

Can I love my enemies and pray for those who persecute me?

For Christians and many others in Lebanon, the answer to this question can be difficult and complex.

For the past three and a half years our family has been living in the city of Beirut, and working with marginalized people groups in different parts of the country of Lebanon. Whilst the news about countries in the Middle East do not paint a hopeful picture for people in this part of the world, our hearts fill up with excitement to see the different ways God is ...