A few years ago on furlough, I was walking through Conway’s historic district, admiring some of the old, well-kept houses with beautiful yards full of giant flowering bushes and trees. In my heart welled up a desire that I unsuccessfully tried to ignore.  I wanted a house and a beautiful yard with bushes so huge they obviously were planted long ago.

Unless you speak Spanish, you may never have heard of Editorial Bautista, one of the Missions Literature Ministries of BMA Global. Originally called Casa Bautista Misionera de Publicaciones, the Spanish publications department of the BMAA was begun in the 1960s by Bro. Robert Isaacs and his wife, Ruth.

Around the world, Christians witness lives and communities transformed in ways no one expected, especially in places where hope once seemed distant. In Nicaragua, Oscar and Tamy Gaitán have devoted their lives to sharing that message. As ChangeMakers, they have seen firsthand what happens when the good news of Jesus takes root.

Our designated World Missions Day in 2026 has come and gone. The impact is still to be determined in the months and years to come, but first and foremost, thank you for your investment in advancing God’s Kingdom. You are a part of God’s plan to multiply disciples, leaders, and churches.

In a country marked by political instability, ethnic conflict, and deep religious diversity, the work of sharing the gospel can be dangerous, complicated, and slow. Yet in Myanmar (formerly known as Burma) stories of hope continue to emerge through the faithful ministry of national believers.

As 2025 comes to a close, our hearts overflow with gratitude—for God’s faithfulness and for you, our Lifeword Partners. Your prayers, support, and generosity have carried the gospel into homes, villages, cities, and online communities across the world. From the islands of the Philippines to the villages of Africa, from the digital spaces of the Middle East to churches across Europe and the Americas, God’s Word has gone forth in power.

I had been at my position for ninety-two days. Ninety-two days of holding the line, waiting, and wondering if any of us would make it out alive. I’m an infantryman from the Donetsk direction. Our unit was defending a school building shaped like the Ukrainian letter “П.” It was supposed to be a strong position—but soon we were completely surrounded.

They used to come to me with fear in their eyes. They called me N’kayi—the one who speaks with spirits. I held the charms, the chants, the power. Or so it seemed. Mothers brought sick children to my doorstep. Men asked me to curse their enemies. I wore fear like a crown. But no one ever asked how I slept at night.

When I first heard about the Bible studies happening in our area, I was curious. I had heard people whisper that the Makuwa—the white missionaries—were teaching about a God who forgives sins and gives eternal life. I had spent my whole life fearing spirits, offering sacrifices, and doing what our traditions demanded. But inside, I always felt empty and afraid. So one day, I decided to go.

We live in a very remote place, and for many years our lives felt marked by limitation. I, Juan Carlos, cannot walk and depend on a wheelchair. My wife Martha can walk, but because she is visually impaired, she cannot see the path ahead. Each day, we faced our challenges together: I would guide the way, and she would push my chair. It was our simple rhythm of survival.

When Paul wrote to the church in Philippi, he said, “I thank my God every time I remember you… because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.” His words reveal something more than appreciation for financial support. They express deep affection for a church that had joined him in heart and mission–a true partnership in the gospel.

I was born into a Muslim family, and as a teenager, I was required to follow all the rules of Islam. At first, I wanted to obey those rules because I wanted to be like my parents. But after years of trying to do everything that was expected of me, I realized I had no real relationship with God.

In the heart of Tabora, Tanzania, the sound of the gospel drifts softly through open windows every Sunday morning. From Radio Uhai, voices rise in worship, Scripture is read aloud, and the message of Jesus Christ is spoken with clarity and love. For many, this broadcast is more than just a radio program—it’s a lifeline. Among those forever changed by it is a man named Soki.

My story begins in one of the hardest seasons of my life. I was battling stage 4 breast cancer, and I was full of anger and bitterness. My life had been hard, and now this diagnosis felt like the final blow. I blamed God for everything–my pain, my struggles, and my cancer.

Last month, the jungles of Petén, Guatemala–once home to longtime BMA missionary Marvin Loyd–were alive again with the sound of laughter, joy, and gospel hope. Through Everlasting Smiles Shoeboxes, the ministry that began years ago in this region continues to bear fruit for the glory of God.