InterACTION - February 2026
A Publication of InterAct Ministries
God Saw My Tears
January 1949. I remember it like it was yesterday. Though it was still dark at 10 a.m., I knew the snow had piled high in the night. Heavy snow muffled the barking of the sled dogs. They needed food. They couldn’t produce heat in this brutal cold without fuel in their bellies. My husband, Jack, had been awakened to an emergency in the village late the night before and I didn’t know when he would return. I would need to feed the dogs. Bundle up, cover face, brace myself for that first shock of icy air. I pushed on the door but it barely budged. The blowing snow had piled up against the door. If Jack were home, he’d probably climb out a window on the other side of the house and shovel the snow from the door, but I wasn’t feeling athletic that day. Tears burned my cheeks and grew into sobs as I released my frustration. We were missionaries! We were supposed to be bringing Good News to this village. They didn’t need to endure lives without hope. But at that point, a prisoner in a drafty cabin, I didn’t feel much hope myself. My mind wandered back to when Jack had returned from World War II with a passion to go where the gospel had not been heard. We packed our small car with a few belongings and headed to Bible college. It was there that a friend had passionately shared a letter he had received from an acquaintance in Alaska. There were scores of villages living in spiritual darkness. Jack and I sensed a heart tug that was unmistakeable. God was calling us to pioneer missions in one of those villages. Our church family recognized God’s call on our life. They tearfully sent us on our way with prayers, promises of finances, and several “missionary handshakes” of folded bills passed on with a firm hand. We didn’t feel like heroes but we certainly were treated that way. Heroes? What would they think if they could see my tear-stained face? It was only snow, and darkness, and hungry dogs and loneliness. I knew the Lord was there, offering comfort. But I felt so alone. We were the only outsiders and only believers in the entire village. I had left a culture I understood only to spend every waking hour trying to understand the best way to bring the hope of the gospel to my neighbors.
Was it only last year that we had boarded the steamship headed to Alaska? We were confident of God’s call and knew He would lead us to the village He had prepared for us. Except for a few bouts of seasickness, anticipation flooded our thoughts. We felt so honored that God was entrusting us with His message. We stepped onto the wooden dock in Seward, retrieved the trunks with our belongings and headed into the unknown with joy in our hearts. It was early Spring and even though the wind was biting and dirty snow covered the ground, our excitement was unquenchable. Our only contact was the man who had sent the letter to Jack’s college friend. We boarded the train headed for Anchorage. There we connected with several believers who were familiar with the many villages needing a missionary. During a prayer meeting, we sensed one village rising to the top of the list. A flurry of activity followed as we gathered all we would need to send on the barge once the river thawed. My traditional one-week menu plans were minimally helpful when I considered 52 weeks of supplies, trusting we would be able to add fish and moose meat to our staples. We had arrived with little more than clothing and a few essential items. We trekked through the thawing, muddy streets of Anchorage with our shopping list—a sharp knife for butchering, a sewing machine and fabric to make curtains, winter boots, parkas, tools for all types of repairs. When the day arrived to load our goods onto the barge, we could only stand in humble worship. God had provided the means and the help to walk through years of preparation, and we were headed to our village at last.
From outside the cabin, loud shouts from Jack interrupted my ponderings. The monthly mail plane had landed and we had letters from our family, our church and one from John Gillespie who pastored the Church of the Open Door in Anchorage. We excitedly ripped through the envelopes and studied news from home. The letter from Pastor Gillespie invited us to attend a conference gathering missionaries scattered across the state. There were many like us who had no affiliation with any organization, thus no ongoing support system or fellowship. The discouragement that had gripped me melted into expectation. Though it was months away, I knew the Lord had provided again, this time for my aching heart. The missionary conference that summer exceeded my expectations. It didn’t matter that 14 of us were wedged into a modest house, sleeping on sofas, floors and even in the garage. Conversations buzzed with village experiences, frustrations and shared hope for the people we came to serve. Songs of praise rang to the rafters of the church where we gathered and tears flowed as we joined in the heart-felt chorus of “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” We hadn’t heard music like that for a whole year. More tears flowed as we pleaded with the Lord for the souls of many friends living without hope. The conference was over far too quickly but we had connections that we would maintain throughout the year. It was like a unique society of shared griefs, joys and a burden for the people we had come to love. Hugs and goodbyes were accompanied by promises of praying for one another. It’s shocking how much those promises lifted our spirits. That was 77 years ago. Two years later, John Gillespie and a group of godly believers recognized the critical need for a mission organization that would formally connect missionaries. We were among the 16 missionaries who joined Arctic Missions* that year. We were comrades in a battle for souls and now we had common vision with support for our physical and spiritual necessities. I wish I could say there were never again days that I questioned how I would survive. There were many. But now I had a family—and that made all the difference. *Originally Alaska Missions but officially registered as Arctic Missions and changed to InterAct Ministries in 1988.
Three Reasons Why I Give
By Oldman Lad, a faithful donor
Pastor Richards, the Beloved, left First Baptist Church of Wellsville, Michigan in 2003. He had continued the church’s tradition–started back in the 1940s–that half the budget went for missions. After his departure, the church floundered for three years until the search committee found, the elder board recommended, and the church–desperate for leadership–called Pastor Dunn. Attendance, along with contributions, dropped by half. Compounding the financial crises, Pastor Dunn had no use for tithing. “If the Lord calls you to give a dime, and you give a quarter, you’ve given 15-cents of self-righteousness.” People who had not developed the discipline of tithing suddenly felt the Lord calling them to give a dime. The missions budget was slashed. My wife and I knew that we certainly could not make up for the tens of thousands of dollars that had been cut from missionaries around the world, but we chose to help seven families with young children in foreign countries. One of those families was Greg and Laura Hamilton, now serving with InterAct Ministries. It just didn’t seem right to cut funding to missionaries with young families, leaving them halfway around the world with no way to make up for the missing funds. So that’s the first reason we began to support missions: out of a sense of moral obligation. As we picked up support for these families, we began to know them better. Now they weren’t just people up on a platform talking about places we had never heard of. They were real people. People like us, with needs, wants, desires, goals, problems, neighbors, interactions with governments, and schedules. Like us, they worshipped a God who walked on water and raised the dead. But like us, they walked on Dr. Scholl’s® and raised vegetable gardens. Now, when they updated us on their ministries, it wasn’t in front of a church. They showed their slides on our living room wall. They ate with us. Their children played in our basement. Now we supported them for a more personal reason: they were our friends, and who doesn’t support their friends? As the years have gone by and our thoughts have turned to retirement and mutual funds and 401(k) investments, a more biblical reason to support missions has become apparent. We are called to be investors (Matt 25:14-30). If we can’t own GM or Delta Airlines or Microsoft in their entireties, the stock market offers us a chance to own them in slices. If we can’t go to northern Canada or the Philippines or Togo, missions offers us a chance to do the same thing. Through missions, we have investments all over the world. When the great throng sings before the Throne (Rev 5:9-10), we will have a part in many of them being there. We support missions because it’s a great investment. An obligation, a friendship, and an investment. That’s why we give.
Make an investment with eternal dividends.
Stories communicate! God is a storyteller. Bible scholars tell us that as much as 70% of Scripture is narrative. As part of our 75-year anniversary, this edition of InterACTION tells stories, some from the past and others from the present. The fictional story in this edition represents the genuine feelings of the unaffiliated missionaries in early Alaska missions. Providing an organization not only created a community of encouragement for the missionaries but also offered support for their physical needs and a vision to reach the Alaska Native community. This year, we are celebrating 75 years of doing just that. We partner with sending churches to support their missionaries with spiritual, physical, and practical support systems (financial and legal support, encouragement from field leadership, training for effective ministry, and, most of all, belonging to a family). We exist because we believe no missionary should have to serve alone! Stay tuned throughout the year as we celebrate 75 years of God’s faithfulness to InterAct Ministries. Together, we acknowledge and remember God’s goodness in this small part of His macro “Harvest Fields!” Let the celebration begin! For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations. Psalm 100:5.
The Quiet Power of a Changed Life
Celebrating God’s Work in Every Story
By Tim Colwell
“I don’t know what happened to my daughter, but she is different,” were Sharon’s* words to us after her daughter, Anna* came home from a week of Bible camp.
We knew that she had accepted Christ as her Savior at camp. Since her time there, Anna’s face literally beamed with the joy that only knowing Jesus can give. The following weekend, Anna’s grandmother and great-grandmother both came to church asking what had happened to her. This gave my wife the opportunity to share the gospel with them. Now Anna often helps at Kids Bible Club by leading the songs and helps serve beverages at our Friday coffee house. Wherever she goes, the light of Jesus shines out to those around her and is a testimony to His transforming power.
In working with people, we long to see lives noticeably changed. I remember being in Bible School and hearing a former drug addict share his testimony. He was a wreck out on the streets when God called him out of darkness into His marvelous light. He had fire in his heart and a passion to serve the Lord. As I listened to his testimony, I began thinking, what has God done in my life? I grew up in a Christian home. All my closest relatives were church-going, dedicated Christians. Most of my jobs growing up were for Christian bosses. I never rebelled as a teenager. So, what had God done for me? As I mulled over these thoughts I talked with Adam*, the former drug addict, and told him how I was feeling. He looked at me, and I still remember his words, “God saved me from the streets, but He kept you from the streets. In both situations, God has been at work.” Adam’s perspective has helped me many times over the years. God is at work in the cases where we do not see drastic change as much as He is in the situations where there is huge change. For nearly a quarter century, my wife and I have ministered in a small Native community in northern Canada. In 2000, we left our home in Upstate New York to come to Ross River to start an independent, self-supporting, self-propagating church. We had done the Bible School courses and were ready to see God work in mighty ways. We had a strong belief that God called us and that He was going to do great things. When we arrived, there was significant work to be done and we knew we had a powerful God who would change people’s hearts. Our faith was strong, but so was our ignorance of how God works in lives. What we saw as maybe a 5-year step-by-step process has turned out to be a career of seeing God change lives little by little. Yes, people have come to know the Lord. Yes, some believers who wandered away from the Lord have come back to Him. But in reality, it has been a slow go. There have been times we have been discouraged, and things have looked bleak. People have asked, “Why do you continue to minister in the same place? Why not go somewhere else, where maybe there will be more fruit?”
For us the answer is simple. God called us to this place over 30 years ago and He has not called us to go elsewhere. We see the work God is doing in people, even if it is in little steps—like a believer being able to give up his cigarettes after years of addiction. It is a celebration of God at work when a 15-year-old teen reads the opening verses on Sunday morning at our fellowship. We also celebrate when a dedicated group of youth show up each Wednesday for Bible study, or volunteer to lead singing at our weekly Kids Bible Club. These may seem like small things, but it shows us God is working mightily in the hearts of people here. This fall, I was in the office of our ministry center when Jack* came in and needed to talk. He seemed very discouraged and as I talked with him he shared how bad life was for him. Jack was struggling with undiagnosed health issues and had not been able to work for almost a year. His bills were piling up. The pain was brutal, but the worst pain was the pain he felt in his heart. He had been praying and reading the Bible, but he felt like God was not there. He felt alone and on the edge of feeling life was not worth it anymore. As we sat talking, Jack asked me if I could give him some verses to show him that God still loved and cared for him. I quickly printed off a page of verses to encourage him and invited him to come to our Sunday fellowship. The following Sunday, he showed up for church and continued to come by each morning to talk about what he had been reading in the Bible. The days turned into a week and one day, he stopped by and showed me his Bible. In it, he had written the date, October 25, 2025—the day he turned the driver’s seat of his life over to the Lord to control. For over 40 years, God had been working in his heart. For 40 years, he had resisted, until he came to the end of himself and realized God had been calling him all along. *Names have been changed