In Psalm 12, God declares: “Now I will arise.” He moves toward the poor—and invites His people to rise with Him.
This is why we love church planting. It’s God’s favorite way to transform a community from the inside out.
Last week our family shared Christmas memories. Our kids grew up in marginalized neighborhoods, and the contrast between their joyful Christmases and the hard realities around them is still vivid. It reminded us again why healthy churches matter.
The Ten-Centavos Manger
(As remembered by one of our daughters, lightly edited by Dad)
The story you read to us was simple:
A family draws names in secret during Advent… does hidden acts of kindness for that person… and each kindness earns the right to place one piece of straw in Baby Jesus’ manger.
The goal? Make His little bed soft by Christmas morning.
We loved it instantly. Soft bed for Jesus? Secret missions? Sibling espionage? Yes, please.
But there was one problem:
Where were we going to find straw in the Amazon?
So we improvised—because missionaries always improvise—and swapped the straw for ten-centavo coins. Every tiny kindness earned a little copper coin. Bigger kindnesses earned bigger coins. By the end of December, that jar became our “Jesus manger”—heavy with more mercy than money.
Every Sunday of Advent we drew new names. That meant four straight weeks of wonderful, ridiculous pressure to be secretly kind.
You could spot us scheming from the other side of the house:
• laying out a sibling’s shirt at bedtime… • sneaking inside with a sweaty little flower to leave on someone’s pillow… • or the hardest one: catching ourselves mid-argument, grinning, turning around, and muttering, “Fine. Ten centavos.” Clink.
One year I got the same sister three weeks in a row and groaned, “I feel like her little servant.” But I still snuck chocolates onto her pillow and kept the kindness missions going.
Looking back now, the Ten-Centavos Manger wasn’t about coins. It was about formation.
It was teaching us—inside that imperfect little Amazon house—that kindness costs something. Not money… heart.
You could feel it every time you swallowed pride or chose silence instead of the perfect retort. It was tiny worship disguised as childhood.
On Christmas Day we carried the jar to church and poured the coins into the offering. We used it to buy a cesta básica—a food hamper—for a family down the street. Rice, beans, flour, oil. Mercy in a grocery bag.
All our secret kindnesses—those flowers, shirts laid out at night, moments of restraint—became literal food for real people.
We didn’t put straw in a manger. We put kindness into circulation. We softened a hard world.
That’s what I remember most:
The giggles. The secrecy. The ache of thinking up one more kindness. And the quiet sense that Jesus noticed.
Not like a scorekeeper— but like a Father watching His children learn to love.
Kindness offered in secret always grows into something bigger than itself. It builds something holy. It forms something soft. It shapes a child’s heart toward the humility of Christ— the One who slipped into the world unseen, gentle, unnoticed by the powerful, carrying more glory than the world knew what to do with.
A Christmas Party at our home in Altamira in 2004.
And Psalm 12 reminds us how God loves to care for the poor!
HOW TO ENGAGE PSALM 12
Use this color-coded layout to guide your meditation:
Ponder verse 5—let it become the heartbeat of the psalm.
Compare the blue verses and how they set the emotional landscape.
Notice how the blue verses feed into the red verse (v.5).
Compare the purple verses—the human response and God’s reply.
See how the purple verses illuminate the promise in red.
Read the psalm as a whole—slow, savory, steady.
Morning and night. Let it feed your spirit.
Does this stir something in you about planting churches among the poor?
REFLECTION
“Your Father, who sees what is done in secret…” — Matthew 6:4
There’s a line in the Sermon on the Mount tailor-made for children dropping ten-centavo coins in a jar:
“Your Father… sees what is done in secret.”
Jesus doesn’t say maybe God notices. He says He sees.
He pays attention to the hidden, the quiet, the uncelebrated choices no applause will ever reach.
A whispered forgiveness. A swallowed complaint. A flower on a pillow. A coin dropped because you refused to pick a fight.
These are not “little things.” These are the things that make the manger soft.
When we offer the smallest kindness to God, He multiplies it into mercy for someone else. That’s Kingdom mathematics— hidden seeds becoming visible harvests.
As Advent approaches, take courage: No act of kindness is invisible. No restraint is wasted. Every ten-centavo act of obedience is noticed by heaven.
Your Father sees. And seeing, He delights.
Deanna’s Journey to Healing
“Our long-time partners in church planting, John and Ellie Born, stopped by to bring healing cheer this week. They have been bringing us healing cheer for decades. They’re the kind of people who feel like family. They have the Presence that expands the Kingdom of God wherever they go.
Deanna completed her third week post-surgery. She can begin holding the babies gently. And the targeted therapy—though similar in process—is mercifully lighter than chemotherapy.
The twins have been over often this week as Bella paints Christmas scenes on storefront windows around Harrison and Abbotsford. Watching them tumble around the house like little bear cubs has been healing for all of us.
Prayer Requests
• For Deanna’s complete healing. • For a generation who will find the poor, make disciples, and plant churches among them, socially, financially, mentally, or physically poor. • For the Marabá Church, which held a powerful Men’s and Women’s Encontro retreat last weekend in their marginalized neighbourhood.
The Marabá Church held a Men’s and Women’s Encontro weekend on the mission property in a marginalized neighborhood. These are Friday-Sunday night retreats with an intense focus on becoming more connected with God and with their people.
A Word from Creation
Mallard ducks display the autumn series of God’s creative genius at Mill Lake.
Closing Blessing
May the God who rises for the poor Rise for you this week.
May Jesus, Who slipped quietly into the world, Cradled in straw, Welcomed by the lowly, Make His nearness known to you.
May He place you in safety, And steady you with His tenderness, Like a manger built of mercy.
And as you go, May His Spirit create in you a strength That lifts the needy, Shelters the weary, And brings peace to every place Your feet carry you.
In the name of Jesus, Who still comes close to the humble Amen.
Partnering in the Work
We each play a part in the Great Commission. Some plant churches in marginalized communities. Some help leaders grow and work together. Some sustain the mission through prayer and giving.
When we do our part—whatever it is—it just feels right.
