On my recent trip to Malaysia, one of the most powerful moments I experienced was returning to minister at a church filled with Pakistani refugees. These precious brothers and sisters have endured unimaginable trials. Many fled their homeland because of political and religious persecution, seeking only safety for their families and freedom to worship Jesus Christ.
But their journey has been anything but easy. Caught in bureaucratic red tape, some have waited 8, 10, even 12 years for an interview with a western nation where they might finally apply for refugee status. In the meantime, life is incredibly difficult. They are unable to send their children to school. They have no access to proper healthcare. Many work in hidden or unsafe conditions where employers take advantage of them because they are undocumented. Their daily existence is marked by uncertainty, hardship, and very real suffering.
When I visited this congregation a year ago, the weight of all these challenges was heavy on their faces. During that visit, I spent nearly two hours at the altar praying for families — for husbands and wives, for children, for those who felt they had no hope left. Some were battling deep depression. Others were overwhelmed with fear. Their cries for help were raw and desperate.
This year, as I walked back into that same church, I was immediately struck by a dramatic change. Instead of downcast faces, I was met with bright eyes and beaming smiles. Men, women, and children rushed to greet me with hugs, handshakes, and words of thanks for the ministry that had taken place the year before. Their gratitude was overwhelming.
What had changed? Their external circumstances were the same — they were still refugees, still waiting, still struggling. But their hearts had been transformed. Their posture had shifted from despair to thanksgiving. Those who had been weighed down by depression now testified that the Lord had miraculously intervened in their families. Couples who had once asked me through tears to pray for breakthrough were now declaring the goodness of God with joy.
In that moment, I was reminded again of the power of testimony. I shared with them Revelation 12:11 (NLT): “And they have defeated him because of the blood of the Lamb and because of their testimony. And they were not afraid to die.”
In English, “testimony” often means a statement, or a personal account of an experience. But in Hebrew, the word aydooth carries a far deeper meaning. It means, “Do it again with the same power and authority.”
This congregation had taken hold of that truth. Every time they shared a testimony, they were not just remembering what God had done — they were declaring, “Lord, do it again with the same power and authority.” Their testimonies became prophetic. Their words became prayers. Their hope became contagious.
What moved me most was that their circumstances had not yet shifted. They were still unable to send their children to school. They still lacked healthcare. They were still vulnerable to exploitation. And yet, they chose thanksgiving. They chose to declare God’s goodness. They chose to believe that the same God who had carried them this far would “do it again.”
I left that gathering deeply humbled and encouraged. These dear brothers and sisters reminded me — and I hope remind you — that life and death are in the power of the tongue. When we share our testimony, we are not only recounting the past; we are calling upon the Lord to release that same power in the present.
This is the heart of Christ For Your City: to walk alongside leaders, families, and churches, reminding them that the Father is faithful and that His Kingdom is advancing even in the most difficult circumstances.
May we learn from the faith of these refugees. May their courage inspire us to open our mouths and share our own stories of God’s goodness. And may we, too, begin to pray with boldness: “Lord, do it again.”