Flying home from Katmandu

I’m through security and ready for the flight to Melbourne. I’ve been on the road in South Asia for three and a half weeks on the road.

I’m ready to go home and hug the grandkids and walk the dog, but this trip has changed me.

For more than three decades I’ve read everything I can on movements, and I’ve interviewed hundreds of practitioners — nothing beats being in the field, face-to-face with first-generation believers pursuing multiplying movements of disciples and churches.

We drove thousands of kilometers and met hundreds of people, I never grew tired of hearing their stories — how the gospel came to them and their families. How the sick were healed, demons cast out, alcoholic men freed to love and serve their families. How salvation came to multigenerational households, their neighborhoods and nearby villages and how they sacrificed to take the gospel to faraway places.

I never grew tired of hearing this story time and time again. The gospel is on the move in South Asia and everywhere it goes in the power of the Spirit, the fruit is always disciples and churches to the glory of God.

Why should we be surprised? Isn’t that the story of the movement of God in Acts?