“How are you Fitahiana?” He moved his hand to signify that he is so-so. As we communicated through questions from me and hand movements from him, he explained to me that he is tired, emotionally exhausted, in pain, that he has had enough, that he wonders when this would end, and he would finally be fine again. I tried to encourage him from Scripture as much as I could. I cried with him and tried to make him smile…
It was one of the most difficult weeks I have ever been through with the passing of Pst John MacArthur, the passing of Saidi Francis Chishimba, a Zambian brother I got to know through Christian Publishing, the passing of Nombana and Antsa, taking the number of people dying through the food poisoning incident of June 14th to 31. 😭
The death of people aged 17 to 86 years old is a vivid reminder that life is but a vapor, and one day we will all stand before God to give an account (Heb 9:27).
However, can we even imagine how the past month has been for Fitahiana? 😭😭
He has been on this hospital bed for over a month now, almost completely paralyzed. Since June 15th, he has had to process the death of his sister, and the one-by-one death of the 4 other people that shared the room with him, including his cousin, Kasaina. He heard the doctors trying to resuscitate them to no avail. He heard the cries of the family members who lost loved ones. He doesn’t know anything of all the judicial and political circus going on outside, but what he knows is that he is still there on that bed, alone in that room. And what we know is that no antidote nor curative medicine is given to him yet. He is getting better, but so did Nombana before dying.
In an age dominated by rapid information flow, people find it challenging to stay engaged with prolonged crises. The allure of new trends and the constant bombardment of notifications lead to waning interest; once the initial shock wears off, individuals quickly move on to the next headline. Social media and news outlets thrive on rapid-fire updates, encouraging a culture where everyone urges to “move on.” Events that once captivated public interest swiftly lose their urgency, replaced by the next trending topic, meme, or viral sensation. The continuous influx of events creates a desensitization effect, where societal empathy becomes diluted. Each tragedy, each emergency competes for attention, making it easy to forget the past crises that once gripped public consciousness.
In our increasingly self-centered society, many find it hard to prioritize collective problems over personal interests. The relentless hustle for personal success often sidelines the struggles of others, leading to a culture where empathy towards collective emergencies dwindles. This is exacerbated by those who benefit from others’ predicaments. Profiting from chaos and misfortune, these individuals, be it in business or politics, resist resolving the issues, as their interests are intertwined with the persistence of such crises.
Attempting to maintain a state of emergency is inherently exhausting. The emotional toll of constant alertness and vigilance is unsustainable, leaving individuals burned out and seeking solace in ignoring the ongoing issues.
I would thus want to make an appeal for Fitahiana and the 8 others that are still fighting for their life at this hospital: let’s not move on from this. Please continue to pray for them. Please continue to pray for the families who lost a loved one.
But at a more critical level, this exhausting situation mirrors a deeper, spiritual emergency. The Bible speaks of a different kind of poisoning: sin. Rather than pursuing repentance and liberation, many tend to play with sin, allowing it to persist. John Owen poignantly stated, “Be killing sin or it will be killing you.” This quote highlights the urgency of addressing our moral failures instead of letting them fester.
As Christians, we are called not only to recognize this spiritual emergency but to act upon it. The scripture reminds us in 2 Peter 3:9, “The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some consider slowness, but is patient toward you, not willing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.” This calls for a collective turning back to God, repenting for our sins.
Let us remain alert, understanding that while societal emergencies may fade, the need for spiritual awakening and search and rescue missions for dying souls is ever-present. Each moment is an opportunity for Christians to share the gospel, extend mercy, and act as beacons of hope in a world distracted by fleeting crises, ensuring that we never lose sight of the ultimate state of emergency that affects every soul.
On June 15th, 2025, the day of her 15th birthday, I had the privilege of baptizing my daughter Emmanuelle. I would like to share the testimony she gave before getting baptized as it gives you an insight in the life of a PK (Pastor’s Kid), a MK (Missionary Kid), and a teenager dealing with being different and lonely. I hope it will be a blessing and encouragement to you.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Emmanuelle Ravoahangy, and many of you know me as the eldest daughter of Pastor Faly Ravoahangy. I was born into a Christian home, surrounded by teachings and love. I’ve had a life that many would call fortunate—I’ve traveled, I have a roof over my head, two loving parents, opportunities to grow in my gifts and passions, and I have been given too many blessings to count. Yet for most of my life, I’ve felt a deep emptiness and loneliness as if I were unloved by those around me.
No matter where I go, my life has always stood out. I never quite fit in, but that’s often the reality of being a missionary kid. My dad once told me that when you choose to devote your life to God, there’s always something you have to give up. For me, growing up homeschooled meant sacrificing friendships and a normal social life most people take for granted.
I remember one Christmas when I was about eight years old. We had just come back from the States the year before, and I had forgotten almost all of my Malagasy. I struggled to communicate, and I only knew the simplest phrases and words. And when I tried to speak, my broken Malagasy would often lead to laughter or insults from those around me. That’s when the fear, the social anxiety, and the shyness started. I became silent, scared of being mocked.
Because I was homeschooled, and because of that fear, I had no friends. And so, on Christmas Day, at just eight years old, I looked up at my dad and told him my only wish: ‘Dad, for my present this year can I please get a friend?’ I still remember so vividly the expression on my father’s face. He smiled at me gently, but there was such sorrow in his eyes. And when he told me, half-jokingly, that he couldn’t just kidnap a little girl and throw her under the tree, I nodded quietly, blinking back tears.
With time, I grew used to being alone. Whenever I faced pain or struggles, I kept it all inside and cried in silence. I shut myself off, hiding my emotions until they built up too much to contain—and then, when someone pushed me too far, it all came out as anger. My anger became something I couldn’t control that resulted in violence towards my sisters, either verbally or physically. I was like a ticking bomb, carrying pain I couldn’t express, too scared to open up, yet too proud to change.
I used to believe my family was placed in my life to hurt me. I resented my parents and their teachings, and I grew bitter toward my siblings when they didn’t say what I wanted to hear. Then, when I finally made my first best friend, I changed in ways I deeply regret. She and I grew close, and I clung to her desperately, doing whatever she asked, even if it meant gossiping and spreading lies about my own family just to earn her approval. I had never known what it felt like to have a best friend, and the thought of losing her terrified me.
Although some memories of us are still kept close to my heart, I let her take advantage of me because I was desperate for the love I thought I wasn’t receiving. But then, one day, she replaced me, discarded me when I had no more use for her. That night, I cried until the tears wouldn’t fall anymore. A deep emptiness settled in, and the pain was so sharp that I pulled away from everyone even more. Losing someone you relied on more than yourself leaves a scar that no one should have to carry.
Ever since that day, I began to hate my life. There were moments when I begged God to take me, because I didn’t have the strength to keep living. Every day felt heavy, filled with misery. I was overwhelmed by loneliness and an anger I couldn’t control. My parents scolded me often, and each beating was etched into my memory. Every word spoken in anger echoed in my mind, and I came to truly believe that my parents didn’t love me. No matter what I did, it never felt like enough. I felt rejected, unwanted, and maybe that’s why I believed I was so unlovable.
So I chose to live a double life. In real life, I became ‘the perfect daughter.’ I ate whatever my parents gave me, did every chore my mom asked, studied hard, and built a knowledge of the Bible and theology that surpassed most. I wanted so badly for my parents to be proud of me, to finally love me. I made them believe that I had accepted God at a young age, hoping they’d see me as an angel.
But online, I became someone entirely different. I created multiple identities, wore different personalities, and did things I now deeply regret. I thought no one would ever find out, and for a while, that secrecy gave me joy. I met people from all over the world, and for the first time, I felt like I had friends. To keep them around, I did shameful things but I didn’t care. My parents believed I was a golden child, so what did it matter what I did in secret?
Eventually, my parents found out what I had been doing, and they disciplined me. But in my mind, it felt unfair, after all, I had done everything else perfectly. Why couldn’t they just let me have this one thing? That mindset trapped me in a cycle. I would return to the same sins, chasing temporary joy, friendship, and the illusion of love. Then I’d be disciplined again, stop for a while—maybe a month—only to fall right back into it.
Two years ago, stuck in the same cycle of sin and shame, God finally opened my heart. I had been caught once again in the very sins I had promised to let go of, and once again my mom found out. After confronting me, she left me in my room to go talk to my dad. Fear and panic took over. Without thinking, I decided to run away.
I left barefoot, without a jacket, even though the air had started to cool. I was careful not to let any sibling, neighbor, or even our guardian see or hear me as I slipped out. It was late afternoon, maybe four or five on a Saturday, and I was running in fear. I started pounding on random doors, hoping someone would open up. But each unanswered knock only made my fear grow.
I decided to use my brain. If I couldn’t find someone right away, I’d outsmart my parents. I’d stay somewhere they’d never expect and stay just until Sunday morning. Then, when my family left for church, I’d sneak back into the house, grab what I needed, and leave permanently.
The family I stayed with was kind. They gave me dinner and gently asked me what had happened—why I had shown up at their door, shaken and sobbing. Through tears, I told them my version of the story, and they listened. They let me rest in one of their beds for the time being.
Surprisingly, my plan seemed to be working. The family told me they had seen my parents and siblings pass by, clearly searching for me. I begged them not to say a word. But as the evening grew darker, I lay in that bed—half-relieved, half-scared—and then I heard footsteps approaching. Suddenly, my father was being led into the room. I broke down completely, backing away from him in fear. My whole body trembled.
But even though he looked tired and worn, my father brought me back home. No shouting. No anger. Just a quiet, exhausted plea not to ever run away like that again. Later, I learned that my mother hadn’t told him the full story—he was simply too tired to fight. He just wanted me to apologize to my siblings and to my mom for the trouble I had caused.
That night was one of the lowest points in my life. I walked back home in tears, weighed down by shame. Every step felt heavy with regret, and I was embarrassed by how I had acted. When I finally reached my mom, she looked angry and exhausted. Without saying a word, she motioned for me to sit beside her.
The room was silent, except for my sobs. Then, she began to speak. She told me how selfish I had been—each word was like a blow to my chest, causing even more tears. Her scolding was harsh, and I couldn’t stop crying. Looking back now, I understand that her words were necessary, but in that moment, I felt my heart tighten with fear. My whole body trembled, and I looked at her with resentment. I think in that moment, she truly saw the condition of my heart.
But then she retold me the Gospel. The same Gospel I had heard all my life. Normally, I would have shut it out—mentally plugging my ears out of pride. But this time I listened. I had memorized the Gospel, I knew all the right answers, and I thought I was already saved. But something was different. The Gospel touched my heart personally.
That night, I cried—not out of anger, but out of relief. Out of shock. Out of conviction. And that’s when I truly accepted Christ. I saw that everything He allowed in my life had a purpose. My pain wasn’t pointless. My parents’ discipline wasn’t hatred. It was love. The love I thought I didn’t receive.
My sanctification had many highs and lows. Letting go and changing was difficult and it took time, but as I look back, I thank God. I thank Him for He truly does love His children no matter what we’ve done. Psalm 118:5 (ESV) “Out of my distress I called on the Lord; the Lord answered me and set me free.” God set me free from years of loneliness and hatred. And now I can say proudly: Psalm 118:21 “I thank you that you have answered me and have become my salvation.” God truly loves me.”
It is quite difficult to summarize a whole year from a Christian perspective. Many affirm that the influence of Christianity, especially in Western countries, has reached historic lows. However, others notice a resurgence of Evangelical Christianity with many public displays of faith such as the March for Jesus in Dublin, with organizers estimating up to 12,000 attendees, on October 26th.
Three ‘events’ that took place this summer epitomize 2024 for global Christianity.
1- Elon Musk and Cultural Christianity
Elon Musk, the founder of SpaceX and Tesla, is often associated with innovation and technology rather than overtly religious beliefs. In an interview with Jordan Peterson on July 23rd, Elon Musk, indubitably the richest and one of the most powerful men in the world, declared himself to be “a cultural Christian”. Musk, who in the past identified as an atheist or an agnostic, divulged his admiration for Christianity:
“While I’m not a particularly religious person, I do believe that the teachings of Jesus are good and wise. … I would say I’m probably a cultural Christian. There’s tremendous wisdom in turning the other cheek.”
He went on to say that Christian beliefs,
“result in the greatest happiness for humanity, considering not just the present, but all future humans. … I’m actually a big believer in the principles of Christianity. I think they’re very good.“
A few days later, in response to the Olympics’ opening ceremony, Musk said “Unless there is more bravery to stand up for what is fair and right, Christianity will perish.” Granted, Christians need to be more bold for their faith, but here are a few issues with Musk’s perspective:
Christianity will not perish
Jesus Himself declared “…I will build My church; and the gates of Hades will not overpower it.” (Mat 16:18b) and also, “…In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Paul confirms “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who is against us?” (Rom 8:31)
Unlike with cultural Christianity, believers have the confidence to be on the winning side as the Lord reigns supreme over all things.
Christianity is about Faithfulness not Achievements
Musk’s work with advanced technologies reflects a contemporary understanding of progress that is often divorced from traditional religious frameworks. His focus on renewable energy, space exploration, and artificial intelligence can be seen as an interpretation of humanity’s God-given mandate to subdue and have dominion over the earth (Genesis 1:28), and not a faithful submission to Him.
Musk’s rhetoric, when addressing the existential risks facing humanity, including climate change, technology and artificial intelligence, suggests a moral imperative to confront these challenges, hope, perseverance, and the importance of working towards a better future. These resonate with Christian teachings.
However, Christianity’s hope resides in Christ’s return, not human betterment.
Musk embodies a proactive engagement with ethical dilemmas connected to the development of artificial intelligence (AI) and its implications, advocating for responsible innovation that aligns with a progressive vision of humanity’s future. However, his quest for technological ethical practices and stewardship is not built upon a dependance and surrender to Christ.
Musk even posits that humanity must become a multi-planetary species to ensure its survival. No, men must surrender their lives to Christ, live in faithful obedience to His commands, and hope for the new heavens and the new earth in His presence (Rev 21:1-7).
Christianity is Christ-centered, not man-centered
Musk represents a new kind of visionary—a figure who pushes the boundaries of human capability and reflects a belief in the possibility of redemption through innovation. He embodies in his entrepreneurial journey individualism and personal purpose. He represents the archetype of the self-made individual, challenging conventional wisdom and pursuing his vision regardless of societal limitations or norms.
There is much to be celebrated in his creativity, entrepreneurship and drive. But it is self-centered. His story of perseverance, work ethos, failure, and ultimate success can serve as inspiration, but it is not pointed to the ultimate source of purpose and satisfaction, the Lord Jesus Christ.
The tension between personal ambition and surrender is palpable, and this dichotomy reflects the broader challenge with the increasingly popular conservative cultural Christianity. Cultural Christianity becomes a framework for exploring spirituality outside of Christ.
Ultimately, Musk’s embodiment of cultural Christianity serves as an intriguing case study for understanding modern spirituality and the evolving relationship between faith and human innovation.
2 years ago, the Christian satire website missed the opportunity to clearly share the Gospel with Elon Musk when they interviewed him. He, and all those who believe in some form of cultural Christianity need to heed the words of Scripture: “…Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved…” (Acts 16:31a)
2- Olympics’ Outrage and Testimonies
E tenebris oritur lux. Out of darkness comes light.
The 2024 Olympics were the most polarizing ever. Yet, that is not necessarily a bad thing. Blurred lines hurt a society. Blurred lines hurt the church’s testimony.
The Opening Ceremony was a celebration of sin, not of sport. Thomas Jolly, the ceremony director, decided to go beyond the Olympic spirit and promote the dominant social trends in France, deeply rooted in “wokism”. Drag queens, “queer” dancers, polyamory, blatant idolatry, and blunt mockery of Christianity were all on display.
However, as a result of the controversies from the opening ceremony, the polemics about transgender boxers and the attempts to caricaturize and belittle Christians:
Every Christian blogger on the planet took this opportunity to contend for the faith
Many Christians worldwide were bolstered to stand as faithful and loving ambassadors of the truth as they realized their faith was under attack.
The Woke movement was exposed for what it is, and many recognized its aberrations.
Mainstream media worldwide jumped in to defend Christians from a religious liberty point of view.
And last but not least, Christian athletes spoke more boldly about their faith than ever before.
When German shot-putter Yemisi Ogunleye was asked how she approached that decisive final throw for the gold medal, she replied, “Before the last attempt, I didn’t think about anything but just lifted my hands and prayed. … After seeing where the shot landed, when I knew it was hopefully going to be enough for the gold medal, I just went on my knees and said, ‘Thank you, Jesus.’”
At the end of the post-event press conference, the moderator asked Ogunleye, “Is it true that you sing in a gospel choir? What song was going through your head tonight?” She responded with an impromptu rendition of “God Kept Me” by Harvey Watkins Jr.
Marileidy Paulino, who started her career running barefoot because she couldn’t afford shoes, became the first woman from the Dominican Republic ever to win Olympic gold by breaking the Olympic record. At the Tokyo Olympics, she held a Bible after earning silver three years ago. This time, Paulino knelt and prayer after crossing the finish line. She thanked God for her opportunity to excel on her country’s behalf.
British diver Andrea Spendolini-Sirieix said, “I give glory to God,” and quoted Joshua 1:9 on her Instagram page after earning bronze with partner Lois Toulson in the 10-meter platform synchronized diving competition.
“This is more than just sport,” she added. “I am proud to represent my country, my family, and glorify the name of Jesus.”
Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone, who qualified for her first Olympics while still in high school, broke her own world record in the 400-meter hurdles. Her husband is studying theology at The Master’s Seminary in California (which is where I also studied) and they have both used the platform God has granted them to make their Christian testimony widely known. Sydney even wrote a book called “Far Beyond Gold: Running from Fear to Faith.”
During the post-race interview in the Olympics, she declared “I credit all that I do to God. He’s given me a gift, he’s given me a drive to just want to continue to improve upon myself, and I have a platform and I want to use it to glorify Him…So whenever I step on the track, it’s always the prayer of ‘God, let me be the vessel in which you’re glorified, whatever the result is’—how I conduct myself, how I carry myself, not just how I perform. So it’s just freedom in knowing that regardless of what happens, he’s going to get the praise through me. That’s why I do what I do.”
Amen! That is true Christianity. That is living knowing Christ and making Him known!
3- The Fourth Lausanne Congress in Seoul
This one is potentially the most controversial point of the 3, but if you have read to this point, you should be able to endure through to the end.
You may not be familiar with the Lausanne movement. It was founded by Billy Graham, Leighton Ford and John Stott in 1974 to accelerate and build better collaboration for world evangelism. The first meeting was held in Lausanne, Switzerland, thus the name of the conference that sticked afterwards.
The Fourth Lausanne Movement Congress, gathering over 5,200 people from 202 nationalities in Incheon-Seoul, South Korea, sought to accelerate global outreach through collaborative efforts, promoting unity in diversity. The theme of the Congress was “Let the Church Declare and Display Christ Together.”
The Congress ended with a call to joint action through signing the ‘Collaborative Action Commitment’, stating on paper the signatories’ intention to:
“respond to the Great Commission by filling gaps and seizing opportunities”,
seek “relationships and unity with leaders”,
work to “remove duplication and silos by celebrating others”
“identify existing collaborative initiatives”
and by addressing “together” the challenges facing the global church.
I do not wish to remove anything from the amazing experience lived by those who attended, notably when people from over 200 nations worship the Lord and fellowship together as a foretaste of Revelation 7:9, but unity in diversity is hard to achieve. Especially when the diversity is related to doctrine. Congresses and joint declarations are nice, but they fail to conceal and properly address the issues wrought by diverging theological perspectives.
As an example, Ruth Padilla DeBorst addressed the challenge of social injustices. As part of her presentation, she made two remarks that made some participants uncomfortable. She stated that “There’s no room for indifference towards all who are suffering the scourge of war and violence. The world around the uprooted and beleaguered people of Gaza, the hostages held by both Israel and Hamas and their families, the threatened Palestinians in their own territories”. Then, at another point, Padilla lamented that “colonialist theologies that justify and finance oppression under the guise of some dispensational eschatology”.
An email apology signed by the event’s director, David Bennett, had to be issued. Her singling out and critic of ‘dispensational eschatology’ and her failure to express comparable empathy for the suffering of Israeli people were flagged as they caused an avalanche of opinions and informal conversations at the conference.
In other examples, one of the speakers passionately and graciously reprimanded cessationists, claiming they denied the power of the Holy Spirit. Creation care was outlined as a justice issue, but the proposed solutions echoed secular narratives. Rick Warren was invited and given a prominent platform from which he reprimanded complementarians, suggesting they overlook Joel 2. An American Pentecostal presenter, in his excitement, asked everyone to raise their hand if they considered themselves “Spirit-filled” believers. The talks on social justice related issues often reflected a liberal and postmodern lens: creation care, gender gaps, anti-colonialism, and critiques of capitalism. There was also no mention of abortion or the current capitulation of the church when it comes to same-sex marriage. In a nutshell, certain viewpoints were given a platform while others were delicately excluded.
And here resides one of the main problems: The Lausanne Congress become so “issues-driven” that the emphasis on world evangelization, which used to be central, has now been buried down to just one emphasis among many. The main thing is no longer the main thing per se.
At the heart of all the disagreement is a simple question: What is the mission of the Church? During the congress, The Seoul Statement Seoul Statement was released, and it generated a lot of discussion. It outlines seven key themes for the global evangelical church: a biblical theology of the gospel, a strong view of Scripture, doctrine of the church, and a vision for humanity and biblical sexuality, discipleship, global conflict, and technology.
None of these are inherently bad, but there needs to be a clear delineation of emphasis on evangelism over social action. The Seoul Statement wrestles with the tension, striving to give equal weight to both “incarnating the gospel” and “holistic gospel”, and as a result dilutes the Gospel.
When everything becomes a gospel issue, nothing is actually the Gospel, nor the issue.
So What?
As the church looks ahead to 2025, we need to make sure that the Gospel remains central and is proclaimed by words and deeds. Theological clarity, triage and discernment are more needed than ever in a world where the words “evangelical” and “church” have lost their intended meaning.
God will always have His remnant throughout the ages. The church must endeavor to be a pillar and buttress of the truth (1 Tim 3:15). And the church must seek to be faithful in the Lord’s eyes before seeking to be attractive in the world’s eyes.
May our testimonies be bold, sincere, earnest and powerful as we trust, obey and proclaim our Lord Jesus Christ.
