6 Fajardo St., Jaro Iloilo City, Philippines 5000
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Missionaries: Ptr. Warren & Dr. Victoria Aragona 
Cambodia Update Almost six months has past since we came back to Cambodia. The first three months was spent supervising the work in the capital of Stung Treng, while we were moving in to the remote area of Rumkoal. When we had moved into the locality, the accountability of our task to bring the gospel to far places weighed on me. All eight villages of the district in the Cambodian side should, at any rate, hear the gospel. About a thousand tracts were distributed in the following weeks. Although I knew that literacy is very, very low, I had hoped that at least if one member of the family was literate, then we could have a chance of disposing our responsibility before judgment day comes. Two weeks ago two were baptized. Some children from the local school would drop in at our house to learn some simple Christian songs and pray (I wonder what would be the outcome someday.) From visiting homes, I have come to learn that some had been exposed to God’s Word when they were either in the capital or have been in Phnom Penh before. (The previous efforts of missionaries, both local and foreign, are taking effect in far flung areas). The fruits of our spiritual labor are encouraging while on the other hand, Victoria’s vegetable garden is giving us food supply in the absence of a market; my small poultry has several chicks running around her tomatoes and cucumber. But should we still go on? Should I still have my wife work the soil with her bare hands to provide us some nutrition while I still keep on trying to learn how to catch fish at the Mekong River? A few weeks ago, police from the capital captured a suspected drug trafficker in front of our house by the river. I had tried to be discreet, as not to bother Victoria, but my stress level is already considerable because I would be on the watch for thieves. Some months ago a mugger broke into my neighbor’s house. A few weeks later, someone was in pursuit of a thief who stole his money. Last week, the house behind ours was broken into. Victoria and I stand like baits as we are foreigners. Don’t I still have the option to minister in the Philippines while Victoria practices medicine in an air conditioned hospital? I know that our vehicle in the capital was under surveillance, but I don’t mind that much because after they checked it last week they came out with nothing. How long will I be in suspense? Will God grant our desire to have a church by the border to reach communist Laos? If only and only the churches that sent us would pray for us and the work always! Who knows it might make us endure? Many times, I would lay on my mat (it’s more modern now, I have a foam that goes with it) wondering and being nostalgic knowing that on Sundays, my fellow brothers and ministers are worshipping and preaching while we hope to have that here someday. Some days at the river, while I bring up water to the house, and it hits a scheduled convention back home, I can’t help but day dream being with my co-pastors mingling and laughing out our troubles away. May God remember us out here. Part of me wants to go home, but God’s compelling calling keeps us going on. For how could we leave? We have gone long ways since I stepped Cambodia exactly 15 years ago but the job is not yet done. Hundreds of kilometers of ripe fields are still waiting for missionaries to come. One time, after about an hour of travel in my bicycle on a rough trail, I happen to overtake a husband and wife, with two small children journeying to a far village that would take them a whole day’s walk. We all rested together and chatted. I asked them my usual question: “Have you heard about Jesus or even just the name?” I had assumed that they would answer now – We have heard about the name but don’t know him clearly, but rather they said “We don’t know Him nor have heard about Him yet” Could I just turn a blind eye on them and focus on my distress, suspense and stress? I feel like what one revivalist said long ago – “I was given a horse and a message, alas the horse is dying but the message not yet delivered.” Victoria and I spent our wedding anniversary and Christmas at our house by the river. No gifts, cakes, candles, nor restaurants and the usual stuff we’re used to but I was able to pick up a lonely flower by the river and handed it to her. Today, as of this writing, is her birthday. I know this day will pass but we will not let it go without something special, some thing nice, even just a wish, a wish that our friends who are reading this would pray to the God who sent us out here to bless His work and His lonely workers until the last tribe hears the gospel.
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