Tom & Nancy Cook — Missionaries to the Philippines

gmfphil@runbox.com

  • Our Scholars: Carrying the Load

    Our Scholars: Carrying the Load

    During the widespread educational shutdown caused by repeated flooding during this past monsoon season, our four scholarship students—Mikaella, Caleb, and Kelsey at Olongapo City Christian School (OCCS), and Samantha at Wesley Christian School (WCS)—kept pressing forward. Now that the rains have passed, their schools have resumed in-person classes, and the students commute back and forth each day.

    Because they attend private Christian academies with established distance-learning protocols, their teachers actively supported home studies. Mikaella, Caleb, and Samantha used basic tablets we provided when the COVID-19 pandemic first disrupted education. Those tablets were their primary lifeline to schoolwork and assignments during the closures. Kelsey, our newest scholar, used her mom’s cellphone for distance learning.

    Yet education does not happen in a vacuum. Our scholars live directly inside flood-prone areas. During the prolonged monsoon, their days demanded constant vigilance—monitoring rainfall and river levels night and day—while still keeping up with their school lessons. Even so, these four students completed more schoolwork than most of their peers across the city, many of whom lack access to tablets, smartphones, or private schools. Their perseverance amid chaos is a remarkable display of character.

    The end of the floods has not ended the danger. As the mud left behind has dried, it has turned to dust, triggering a citywide respiratory crisis. Every school day, our scholars travel to and from class through that polluted air.

    The Partnership of Sacrifice

    Providing full-tuition scholarships—which cost approximately US$700 per student for the entire school year, including required textbooks—is a vital part of our ministry outreach. But these sponsorships do not erase hardship. In many respects, committing to an academic path in an environment like this increases the load a family must carry.

    It requires extraordinary sacrifices and steady, quiet commitment from parents to keep their children fed, clothed, and focused while running a household through weeks of mud and floodwater and amid deteriorating economic conditions. The students, too, had to discipline themselves to keep studying through those stressful months.

    This is a three-way partnership between devoted parents, determined students, and generous donors who stand with them in prayer and provision. Thank you for partnering with these families to build a more hopeful future for these students, their households, and the Kingdom.

    “So I run with purpose in every step. I am not just shadowboxing.” (1 Corinthians 9:26, NLT)

    Caleb
    Kelsey
    Mikaella

  • Pressing On Through the Monsoon: The Realities of the Habagat

    Pressing On Through the Monsoon: The Realities of the Habagat

    “The LORD sits enthroned over the flood; the LORD is enthroned as King forever. The LORD gives strength to his people; the LORD blesses his people with peace.” —Psalm 29:10–11 (NIV)

    It can be hard to picture exactly what a prolonged monsoon season looks and feels like here on the western side of Central Luzon.

    The shift starts in June. The perpetually sunny skies begin to dull, and occasional afternoon showers roll in. By definition, a monsoon is a seasonal change in the direction of the prevailing winds. During this time of year, the prevailing wind shifts to the southwest, pulling massive amounts of moisture off the ocean—a weather pattern known locally as the Habagat. By July and August, the skies are completely overcast, and we are locked into periods of heavy, relentless rain.

    Occasionally, the atmosphere clears and becomes unexpectedly balmy. But that refreshing change is just a tease and a warning: heavy rain squalls are right behind it. When a squall hits, it literally roars through the neighborhood, hammering everything with wind-driven raindrops that feel like tiny missiles. The sound overrides everything else in the house.

    The Daily Damp and Dangerous Waters

    Most homes in the Philippines are not insulated, and there is no central heating. Unless you make a trip to a commercial laundry, there are no clothes dryers. At the height of the Habagat, the humidity is so high that wet clothes will not dry, and dry clothes become damp just hanging in the closet. Walls and floors grow slimy, and mold turns surfaces as slippery as winter ice. For the many families who sleep on mats on the floor, it means resting on cold, wet cement every night.

    The nonstop rain brings severe hazards. Over the past few months, the saturated mountains gave way, triggering localized landslides that crushed retaining walls and threatened upland homes. Down in the city, rivers overflowed their banks, forcing over a thousand Olongapo City residents to flee to evacuation centers.

    Floodwaters never entered our home, but we were physically cut off on two separate occasions. On one of those occasions, while returning from picking up important medical tests for Nancy, we were nearly caught in a flash flood. We had to turn the car around on a traffic-clogged street as the fast-moving waters rose rapidly, eventually taking shelter at the local SM Central Mall for an hour until it was safe to navigate home.

    Even inside, the dangers persisted. Rainwater found its way into an electrical outlet in our “dirty kitchen,” an open-air room used for cooking with gas burners or charcoal or wood fire. The water-filled outlet caused electric arcs to pop and shoot across the room at 12:30 in the morning. The result: a terrifying indoor fireworks display. The room filled with smoke, an acrid smell, bright flashes, and a cracking noise as loud as a high-caliber rifle shot. The only reason our house did not catch fire is that absolutely everything around was simply too wet to burn.

    The Economic Toll and the “Stoop Work” of Recovery

    When the weather turns like this, it isn’t just an inconvenience; it is an immediate economic crisis. A week of rain means a week without wages for tricycle drivers, construction workers, and market vendors.

    Furthermore, when the floods finally recede, they leave behind a secondary, silent threat. Flooded homes and streets are coated in a thick, sticky mud contaminated with human waste and rat feces and urine, creating a severe risk for leptospirosis.

    People—young, old, and everyone in between—have to scrape and scrub to remove the slime from their homes, streets, and neighborhoods. It is hard, heavy, backbreaking, exhausting toil. When it’s finished, you can’t go home and put on clean, dry clothes. Everything is wet and soiled.

    Our friend Walter, who works for our landlord, has his family home in Bulacan, north of Manila. His home was flooded for three weeks, and his family lived in it the entire time. The ground floor had water up to the bottom of the chair seats. They still sat around the dinner table for meals and traveled two kilometers by bangka (a native canoe) to reach dry land. The water has finally receded, but it left behind a thick layer of mud and debris, and a great deal of damage that the family is now working to clean up and repair.

    No matter how much rain falls, you cannot dampen the Filipino spirit. We have seen it time and time again: Filipinos are resilient overcomers. As October draws to a close, the Habagat is finally giving way to the cooler, drier northeast winds of the Amihan—but the cleanup and recovery will continue long after the rain stops.

    “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” —Romans 5:3–4 (NIV)

  • The Greater Cost: The After-Flood Health Crisis

    The Greater Cost: The After-Flood Health Crisis

    “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2, WEB)

    While the dramatic rush of water makes the news, the full cost of a flood often appears days or weeks later in clinic and hospital waiting rooms. Living amid drying, contaminated mud creates serious public-health risks:

    • The Threat of Leptospirosis: Leptospira bacteria can survive in wet soil and stagnant water. When floodwater is contaminated by the urine of infected animals, people may contract leptospirosis through cuts or abrasions in the skin or through the eyes, nose, or mouth. Without prompt diagnosis and treatment, the infection can cause kidney or liver damage, respiratory complications, and death.
    • Respiratory and Mold Hazards: Persistent tropical humidity can prevent buildings from drying fully. Damp walls, ceilings, furnishings, and bedding can promote mold growth and worsen asthma, allergies, and other respiratory conditions, especially among children, older adults, and people with existing lung disease.
    • Skin and Gastrointestinal Infections: Contaminated mud and water can infect open wounds and contribute to cellulitis, rashes, and diarrheal illness. The risk increases when drinking-water systems, wells, or household water containers become contaminated.

    Cleaning up this toxic environment requires intense, physical labor. Families must scrape, shovel, and scrub the heavy sludge by hand, frequently without rubber boots or protective gloves. A single microscopic scrape while shoveling mud can lead to a hospital admission that a daily wage earner cannot afford.

    What We Know Now

    How many people are sick? As of October 10, 2026, no reliable public source gives a combined total for flood-related illnesses in Olongapo City and the Subic Bay area. Reports confirm an increase in suspected and confirmed leptospirosis patients, but they do not provide a local case total. Nationwide, 11,965 leptospirosis cases had been recorded through September 9—46 percent more than during the same period in 2025. That national figure should not be mistaken for a local count.

    How many are in the hospital? No exact local inpatient count has been published. On August 28, however, James L. Gordon Memorial Hospital reported that all of its inpatient beds were occupied during a surge that included suspected and confirmed leptospirosis cases. Its emergency room remained open for assessment, but some patients who needed admission faced delays or referral to another facility.

    Can local hospitals handle the demand? The available information shows that Olongapo’s main city-run referral hospital was under severe pressure and could not immediately admit every patient who needed a bed. James L. Gordon Memorial Hospital is listed as a 270-bed Level 3 facility, but beds are only part of the picture. Staffing, laboratory and dialysis services, medicines, and space at other referral hospitals also affect the health system’s ability to respond.

    Sources: Department of Health figures reported by the Daily Tribune; the August 28 hospital advisory reported by the Philippine Daily Inquirer; and the published facility profile for James L. Gordon Memorial Hospital. Information checked October 10, 2026.

  • REJOICING IN THE HARVEST 

    REJOICING IN THE HARVEST 

    “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” — 3 John 1:4

    Remember Billy, the boy whose answer to every question was simply “God”? This season, we’ve watched that same truth play out in the lives of the young people we love.

    We baptized Caleb, Kaella, and Samantha — three more young lives stepping into the Way of Jesus. For each of them, this marks the third generation of their families we’ve had the privilege of baptizing during our 26 years in Olongapo. God is faithful across generations.

    We also dedicated a one-year-old from our church family to the LORD. Her journey with Him is just beginning, and we’re grateful to walk alongside her family as it does.

    And we’ve had the joy of celebrating milestones further down the road. One of our original Children’s Gathering kids just marked seven years as a certified public accountant — she now works for an international company and teaches part-time at the local city college. One of our original School Scholars has completed his medical internship at the internationally recognized St. Luke’s Hospital, and on August 9th, he’ll graduate from medical school and become a Medical Doctor — a tremendous accomplishment for a young man from a lower-class family.

    These young people and their families have climbed a steep, rough road. But ask them how they made it, and — like Billy — the answer comes back the same: God.

    The three who were baptized are well on their way in the Way of Jesus. The one-year-old is taking her first steps. Thank you all for making this possible.

    Rejoicing in the Harvest
  • Abaca, the Fiber the World Called “Manila”

    Abaca, the Fiber the World Called “Manila”

    How a wild banana from these islands rigged the world’s sailing ships, built a city in Mindanao, became a wartime strategic material, and ended up in your tea bag.

    Ask most people outside the Philippines what “Manila hemp” is and you will get a blank look. Ask them about manila folders, manila envelopes, or manila rope, and they know exactly what you mean. Few realize that all of those names point back to a single plant that grows on Philippine hillsides, and to the farmers who have harvested it by hand for centuries.

    That plant is abaca (in Filipino, abaka). This is its story.

    Not Hemp at All

    The first thing to know about “Manila hemp” is that it is not hemp. True hemp comes from Cannabis sativa. Abaca, Musa textilis, is a member of the banana family, native to the Philippines. Standing in a field, you would likely mistake it for an ordinary banana plant. Its fruit, however, is small and inedible. The value is in the stalk.

    What looks like a banana “trunk” is actually a tightly wrapped bundle of leaf sheaths. Inside those sheaths are long fibers, some running more than three meters in length. Once stripped, cleaned, and dried in the sun, they become one of the strongest natural fibers known. Just as important for its history, abaca fiber floats, stays strong when wet, and resists rotting in salt water. For seafaring nations, that combination was worth a fortune.

    The name “hemp” came from foreign traders, who saw it simply as one more fiber that could be twisted into rope. They named it after the port it shipped from: Manila. The chief of the Philippine Bureau of Agriculture’s fiber division was already calling the name misleading in 1915, but by then it had stuck.

    Before the Spanish

    Abaca was cultivated in these islands long before Europeans arrived. Communities spun and wove it into cloth, and some of those traditions are still alive today. The T’boli of South Cotabato weave t’nalak, a tie-dyed abaca textile whose patterns are traditionally said to come to weavers in dreams. Other Mindanao peoples, including the Bagobo and Mandaya, produce their own abaca cloth known by names such as dagmay and inabal.

    Under Spanish rule, abaca cloth was known as medriñaque. It traveled farther than many people realize. Textile historians have found it used for men’s shirts in sixteenth-century Peru, carried there by the galleon trade, and recorded in seventeenth-century English documents as a coarse canvas used for sails and for stiffening collars.

    Oddly, Spain itself was slow to see abaca’s greatest value. According to historian Elizabeth Potter Sievert, the Spanish crown rejected abaca rigging for its sailing fleet in the seventeenth century. It would take other naval powers, nearly two hundred years later, to recognize what was growing in the Philippine hills.

    The Nineteenth Century: Rope for the World’s Ships

    Commercial export of abaca fiber began in a small way in the early 1800s. Around 1820, a U.S. Navy lieutenant named John White carried samples back to the United States, and a cargo soon reached Salem, Massachusetts, labeled simply “Manila.” American shipowners and ropemakers quickly found it outperformed the Russian hemp they had relied on. As Manila opened more fully to foreign trade in the 1830s, American merchant houses such as Russell & Sturgis built a steady business shipping the fiber abroad.

    For much of the century, raw abaca crossed the Pacific and was spun into rope in New England mills. The Plymouth Cordage Company in Massachusetts, one of the largest ropemakers in the world, supplied the U.S. Navy with “Manila” line. Over time, more of the ropemaking moved back to the Philippines.

    The scale of the trade was enormous. From about 1850 to the end of the nineteenth century, abaca and sugar traded places as the country’s single largest export. By 1897, the Philippines was shipping close to 100,000 tons of abaca a year. The sailing ships, whalers, and early steamships of Britain and America were held together, quite literally, by Filipino labor.

    The American Period and the Making of Davao

    After the United States took control of the Philippines in 1898, abaca remained the colony’s leading export. Between 1900 and 1914 alone, according to official figures compiled by the Bureau of Agriculture, the islands exported roughly 1.9 million metric tons of the fiber.

    Much of the new growth happened in Mindanao. American planters opened abaca plantations around the Davao Gulf in the early 1900s. In 1903, a Japanese businessman named Ohta Kyozaburo began bringing Japanese laborers to the area, and within a year he had founded the Ohta Development Company with his own plantations. Japanese planters introduced mechanized stripping, using a spindle-driven machine that made fiber extraction far faster than scraping by hand.

    By 1918, Japanese-owned plantations around Davao outnumbered American ones roughly two to one. The Japanese community grew into the tens of thousands, and the area around Mintal came to be called “Little Tokyo.” Filipino leaders grew uneasy about how much land was passing into foreign hands, much of it ancestral ground of the Bagobo and other Lumad peoples. That concern was one of the reasons Davao was chartered as a city in 1936: the new city’s boundaries were drawn wide enough to bring the plantations under Philippine municipal authority. The modern city of Davao, in other words, was shaped in large part by abaca.

    A Strategic War Material

    By the 1930s, the U.S. Navy considered Manila fiber the best cordage material available and worried about what would happen if war cut off the supply. In 1937, the Army and Navy Munitions Board officially classified it as a strategic war material, and stockpiles were built up in the United States.

    Those fears proved justified. When Japan occupied the Philippines in 1942, the Allies lost their main source of rope fiber at the very moment they were building ships by the thousands. The U.S. government, working with the United Fruit Company, rushed abaca plantings in Panama, the Canal Zone, Costa Rica, Honduras, and Guatemala. Small experimental plantings had existed in Central America since the late 1920s, and the Dutch had grown abaca in Sumatra since 1925, but the war turned these into serious operations. Even so, naval records from 1945 show how close supplies came to running out before Central American fiber arrived in quantity.

    In the Philippines, many plantations were damaged or converted to food crops during the occupation, and some were bulldozed for airfields.

    Decline and Reinvention

    After the war, abaca never regained its old position. Plantations had been neglected or destroyed, plant diseases spread, and, most decisively, nylon and other synthetic fibers took over the rope market. The cheaper petroleum-based ropes did not rot and could be made anywhere. By the 1950s, the industry that had once anchored the Philippine economy was in serious trouble.

    What saved abaca was paper. Its long, strong fibers produce a pulp that is thin, porous, tear-resistant, and tasteless, qualities that are hard to find together. Today most of the world’s abaca is pulped into specialty papers rather than twisted into rope. You have almost certainly used it without knowing:

    • Tea bags and coffee pods
    • Sausage casings and food-preparation papers
    • Cigarette and filter papers
    • Capacitor paper used in electronics
    • Banknote paper, including Japanese yen notes

    Philippine peso notes themselves contained abaca for years, though the country has more recently begun shifting to polymer notes. In 2025, the Philippine Fiber Industry Development Authority (PhilFIDA) met with the Banque de France to discuss using Philippine abaca in banknote production.

    Newer uses keep appearing. Mercedes-Benz has used a blend of abaca yarn and polypropylene in some automobile body parts, replacing heavier glass fiber. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Philippine researchers developed abaca-based face masks. And abaca has never stopped being woven into bags, mats, hats, home furnishings, and some traditional Filipiniana garments.

    Where It Grows Today

    The Philippines still supplies roughly 85 percent of the world’s abaca, according to PhilFIDA. Ecuador and Costa Rica, both descendants in a sense of the wartime plantings, account for most of the rest.

    Within the country, the Bicol Region is the leading producer, followed by Eastern Visayas and the Davao Region. The island province of Catanduanes is the single largest producing province, and in 2022 Republic Act No. 11700 formally declared it the “Abaca Capital of the Philippines.” In 2025 it contributed about one-fifth of the national harvest.

    The People Behind the Fiber

    For all its global reach, abaca is still largely a smallholder crop, and much of the stripping is still done by hand. In Catanduanes, the workers who pull the fiber from the stalks are called parahagot. It is hard, repetitive work, and the pay is modest.

    The farmers face real threats. Viral diseases, especially abaca bunchy top and abaca mosaic, have destroyed many plantations, and researchers are working to develop resistant varieties. Typhoons are an even more immediate danger. Abaca is a soft-stemmed plant, and a strong storm can flatten an entire hillside. A newly replanted field needs two years or more before it can be harvested again.

    Catanduanes has been hit repeatedly. Super Typhoon Rolly in 2020 destroyed an estimated 80 percent of the province’s abaca crop. Super Typhoon Pepito in November 2024 damaged more than 23,000 hectares. Typhoon Uwan in 2025 caused over ₱1.2 billion in losses to the province’s abaca industry and affected nearly 14,000 farmers. Industry figures show national production in 2025 down roughly a quarter from 2014 levels.

    There is also a long-standing gap between where abaca is grown and where its value is added. Catanduanes, the country’s top producer, had only three registered processors as of 2025. Much of the fiber still leaves the province, and often the country, before it becomes the products that earn the highest prices. Government programs are now aimed at building more local processing, rehabilitating diseased farms, and getting better planting materials into farmers’ hands.

    Why It Matters

    Abaca’s story is one of the clearest examples of how deeply the Philippines has been woven into world history, often without the world noticing. For two centuries, foreign navies, merchants, and manufacturers depended on a plant they named after a port rather than the people who grew it. The rope on a nineteenth-century whaler, the line on a wartime destroyer, the envelope on an office desk, and the tea bag in a kitchen in London or Tokyo all trace back to hands in Bicol, Samar, Leyte, and Mindanao.

    It is also a story still being written. Abaca is renewable, biodegradable, and strong enough to replace some plastics and synthetic fibers. As the world looks for alternatives to petroleum-based materials, this old Philippine fiber may have a larger future than anyone expected in the 1950s. Whether the farmers who grow it share fairly in that future is a question worth keeping in view.

    The next time you see a manila folder, you will know where the name came from.

    Sources

    • Philippine Fiber Industry Development Authority (PhilFIDA), “PhilFIDA Explores Global Opportunities for Abaca in Banknote Production,” September 2025
    • DOST-PCAARRD, Abaca Industry Strategic Plan commodity profile (citing PhilFIDA and Philippine Statistics Authority data, 2025)
    • Encyclopaedia Britannica, “Abaca”
    • Elizabeth Potter Sievert, The Story of Abaca: Manila Hemp’s Transformation from Textile to Marine Cordage and Specialty Paper (Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2009)
    • Sandra Castro, Textiles in the Philippine Colonial Landscape: A Lexicon and Historical Survey (Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2018)
    • K. G. Pearson and A. L. Holden, “Manila (Abaca) Fiber for World War II,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, May 1945
    • Filipinas Heritage Library, record on the Ohta Kyozaburo obelisk, Mintal, Davao City
    • Embassy of Japan, Davao Consular Office, “IMIN: The Philippines–Japan Historical Museum”
    • Murad M. Saleeby, “Abaca (Manila Hemp) in the Philippines,” Bureau of Agriculture, 1915 (as summarized in Edge Davao)
    • The Philippine Star, “Typhoons trim abaca output,” November 30, 2025
    • Philippine Daily Inquirer, reporting on Super Typhoon Pepito damage in Catanduanes, November 2024
    • Daily Tribune, “PhilFIDA backs abaca revival in Catanduanes,” March 27, 2026
    • Republic Act No. 11700 (2022), declaring Catanduanes the Abaca Capital of the Philippines
  • How You Can Pray:

    How You Can Pray:

    Please Pray — October 2026

    Thank you for standing with us. Daily monsoon rains began in mid-June, just as the children were starting the new school year. Then, from late August through mid-September, serious floods, flash floods, and landslides brought sickness, damage, and lost income to our community. October has brought drier weather, and families are working their way back to normal. Please keep praying with us through the recovery.

    “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.” (2 Corinthians 1:11, ESV)

    • For Health & Protection: Pray against lingering illness after the floods, including leptospirosis, skin ulcers, and respiratory sickness, among our church families, our scholars, and our neighbors. Our local public hospital remains understaffed and short on equipment and supplies. “For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the LORD.” (Jeremiah 30:17, ESV)
    • For Our Scholars & Families: Pray for our four scholars and their parents as they press on through the rest of the school year with focus, good health, and provision for school needs. “For the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding.” (Proverbs 2:6, ESV)
    • For Continued Good Weather: Thank God for dry weather this October. Pray that it stays in a healthy balance: not too much rain, not too little. Here, the weather decides so much: health or sickness, steady work or lost income. “I will send down the showers in their season; they shall be showers of blessing.” (Ezekiel 34:26, ESV)
    • For Increasing Prayer & Financial Support: Our family and the people we serve are squeezed between rising costs and shrinking resources. Severe weather and poverty damage health and property. The people we serve need more help than ever. Pray that God would raise up new prayer and financial partners to sustain this work. “And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:19, ESV)
    • For The King’s FilAm Children’s Home: Pray for the leaders, workers, and children. Pray that the children would be healed from trauma and that their scars would be removed. Pray that the leaders and workers would receive wisdom and understanding from above. Pray that they would have the strength and compassion needed to care for the children. “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3, ESV)
    • For Nancy’s Cancer Care: Nancy has five targeted therapy treatments remaining, each costing about $600. Pray that God would continue to provide the full amount for every treatment. Pray also for her strength through each round and for the treatment to do its work. “The LORD sustains him on his sickbed; in his illness you restore him to full health.” (Psalm 41:3, ESV)

    Thank you for praying with us.

    “The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.” (James 5:16, ESV)

  • Joy-Joy Goes Home: A Rare Grace at The King’s Fil-Am Children’s Home

    Joy-Joy Goes Home: A Rare Grace at The King’s Fil-Am Children’s Home

    “God sets the lonely in families…” — Psalm 68:6 (NIV)

    For nearly twenty years, we have regularly visited The King’s FilAm Children’s Home. We have shared in quiet heartbreaks, prayed with and counseled devoted caregivers, and watched children grow up within its walls. Yet in all that time, we have rarely seen a child joyfully reunited with her family.

    That changed this past April.

    To understand why this moment is both special and rare, you have to understand the quiet, unglamorous reality of the home itself. The King’s FilAm Children’s Home began decades ago, during the peak of the U.S. Naval presence at Subic Bay, when an American female naval officer joined hands with local Filipino women to care for abandoned Amerasian children left behind in the community. Decades later, the military base is gone, and those early generations have grown up and integrated into society. Today, the home’s mission has evolved to provide sanctuary for “children in crisis” placed there by the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD).

    These children arrive carrying burdens no child should bear. Some are removed from severe domestic violence or sexual trauma at the hands of family members or neighbors. Others come because a single parent, living in a fragile shack, simply cannot leave a young child unattended and unprotected while trying to earn enough daily wages to buy food.

    In theory, the DSWD addresses each family’s crisis and works toward reunification. In practice, children often remain in limbo. A struggling parent may initially attend scheduled visits, but as weeks become months, visits fade, circumstances intervene, or families move away. The children are effectively abandoned but not legally declared so, making them ineligible for adoption locally or internationally. Adoption also becomes less likely as they grow older. They remain at the home until they may leave at sixteen and must leave at eighteen, often entering a predatory world without a family to protect them.

    This is why true Christian service in this type of critical care and intervention is not glamorous; it does not produce tidy success stories for a promotional brochure, and it offers few easy victories. The caregivers at the home do all the “stoop-work”; we simply show up to love and remind these children that God sees and values them.

    Then came Joy-Joy.

    Joy-Joy, a bright little girl of about five years old, had been living at the home. Through months of patient casework, real change, and sustained effort, the impossible barrier gave way. Joy-Joy was officially cleared to go home.

    We had the happy privilege of being present as she was reunited with her mother, her seven-year-old sister, and her baby brother. Standing together in that humble room, Nancy and I were invited to pray over each family —a blessing they welcomed with open, grateful hearts.

    In ministry, it is easy to become conditioned to the weight of persistent hardship, especially during seasons when storms, illness, and economic distress press in on every side. But the Gospel reminds us that the Kingdom of God often moves in quiet, unexpected breakthroughs. A true “happy ending” in this work is extraordinarily rare, and when God grants one, it is worth pausing everything to rejoice.

    Joy-Joy is home. Please join us in lifting up this family in prayer—that God would protect their home, provide for their daily bread, and allow the love and peace of Christ to anchor their lives as they begin this new chapter together.

  • The Living Shadow of Pinatubo: Lahars and the Monsoon Threat of 2026

    The Living Shadow of Pinatubo: Lahars and the Monsoon Threat of 2026

    For residents of Central Luzon, the arrival of the southwest monsoon (Habagat) brings more than just heavy rain; it awakens a dormant threat that has shaped the region’s geography for over three decades. In late August 2026, prolonged and intense monsoon downpours prompted the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (PHIVOLCS) to issue urgent lahar advisories for the major river systems draining Mount Pinatubo. Heavy southwest monsoon downpours routinely prompt class suspensions across schools in Olongapo, Subic, Castillejos, and San Marcelino as local disaster risk councils monitor river levels and low-lying flood zones. The broader threat materialized quickly when the Gugu River breached its protective dikes in Santo Tomas, Pampanga on the night of August 29, forcing emergency evacuations as floodwaters surged into vulnerable communities.

    To understand the persistent danger of these mudflows, one must look back to the cataclysm that created them. Mount Pinatubo had been dormant for over 600 years before its awakening. On June 15, 1991, the mountain unleashed the second-largest volcanic eruption of the 20th century, ejecting over 10 billion tons of magma and pushing a massive ash plume 35 kilometers into the stratosphere.

    The disaster was compounded by a rare meteorological coincidence when Typhoon Yunya (local name: Diding) made landfall directly across Central Luzon at the exact same time. The typhoon’s cyclonic rain captured the volcanic ash, turning it into a dense substance that resembled heavy, wet concrete. While this immense weight caused the catastrophic structural collapse of roofs across cities and military bases, the danger soon shifted from the sky to the ground.

    In the days following the eruption, the real terror for ordinary citizens was the lahar—rushing rivers of boiling volcanic debris, mud, and water. In Olongapo City, these violent mudflows were channeled down the Malinglu and Kalaklan rivers. The heavy sludge completely choked local drainage systems, turning famous commercial strips into gray, waist-deep swamps of volcanic silt. For working-class families across the region, the physical environment was permanently altered, initiating a long decade of navigating the constant summer threats of secondary lahars and mud-slicked roads.

    Thirty-five years later, massive volumes of volcanic sediment still sit on the upper watersheds of Mount Pinatubo. When torrential rains hit, this loose material is remobilized, transforming regular waterways into fast-moving rivers of dense, abrasive mud. Current PHIVOLCS warnings highlight the high-risk channels: the Sto. Tomas-Marella and Bucao river systems in Zambales, and the O’Donnell and Pasig-Potrero rivers draining into Tarlac and Pampanga.

    For the families living near these riverbanks, the 1991 eruption is not just a chapter in a history book. It is a living, geographical reality. As local disaster responders monitor the dikes and rising water levels today, it serves as a stark reminder that the literal fallout of Mount Pinatubo continues to influence the survival and resilience of Central Luzon’s communities every single monsoon season.

  •  The Answer to Every Question

     The Answer to Every Question

    — The Answer to Every Question

    “My goal is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely, Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” — Colossians 2:2-3 NIV

    Vacation Bible School at the Olongapo City Christian School (OCCS) was one of the main highlights of summer vacation for our three OCCS scholarship students, Caleb, Kaella, and Kelsey. Kelsey is a new addition to our Scholarship Outreach and a newcomer to the first-grade class at Olongapo City Christian School.


    During VBS season each year, I’m reminded of a boy named Billy from a VBS class that I assisted many years ago.
    Every time the teacher asked the class a question, Billy was the first to raise his hand. His classmates chuckled among themselves, knowing that Billy’s answer would be the same each time. To every question, Billy’s answer was “God”.
    Eight-year-old Billy may have been a bit slow in his understanding of some things, but at the same time, he also knew a lot more than many others do.


    God IS the ANSWER to any and every Question in life.

    Olongapo City Christian School (OCCS) 2026 Vacation Bible School (VBS)

    Kaella, Caleb, and Kelsey at Olongapo City Christian School Vacation Bible School 2026

  • SPEAKING OF VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL (VBS)

    “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” — Matthew 19:14

    Summer in the Philippines is hot, dry, and clear. Vacation Bible School (VBS) is everywhere throughout the nation, including Olongapo, around Subic Bay, and out in Zambales Province. Kids love it. It’s free, it’s fun, and there is food. VBS is an effective way to teach Bible truths, reach significant numbers of unchurched children, and foster community bonding in a fun Christian environment. The Way of Jesus is exciting, challenging, and fun for the kids.

    Our scholars, Caleb, Kaella, and Kelsey (new to our program) had a full week of good weather and good fun. They made new friends and learned more about Jesus and the Scriptures. Their VBS week ended with an award ceremony and lots of good memories.

    Out in Rabanes, San Marcelino, Zambales, two small congregations combined resources to offer the kids of Rabanes a full-featured VBS. Over 200 kids and VBS workers had a great week together.

    Through the generous gift of one of our supporters, we were able to finance a hearty meal, including snacks, for the children, the workers, and some of the kids’ families at the Closing Day Awards Ceremonies. 200+ full stomachs!

    One of the most significant blessings that VBS produces is acknowledgment, or validation. The VBS workers (mostly volunteers) make a point of making each child feel special, because they are. The kind of poverty most of these kids live in is isolating, lonely, and soul-damaging. The VBS workers spend the week building into the children’s lives. By the end of the week, the kids are full of love and food…two things they absolutely need. VBS is more than “another” church program.

    Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” — Matthew 19:14

    VBS has been part of Filipino church life for a century now — what began as an American import in the 1920s grew into something the churches here made their own, open to any child, regardless of background. That’s still true today: at Rabanes, and at OCCS, kids showed up who’d never set foot in a church before, and left knowing they were welcome. For Kelsey, new to our Scholarship Outreach and to first grade this year, that welcome came all at once.

    That’s the real harvest of VBS — not just Bible stories learned, but a week where a child who is often overlooked gets to feel seen.