In a matching game, the words jungle, cell phone and ministry wouldn’t seem to go together. But today my cell phone was an instrument to bring God’s love to a searching young jungle man far from home.

Silu is in his early twenties. He was born and raised in Kemantian to a timid, sweet mother and an angry, abusive father. Silu took Bible studies at the same time as Timothy and Stephanie, and they were eventually baptized together. Through the years, Silu went to the mission school, and when he was older he became one of our lay teachers. He was growing and maturing as a Christian and as a person, and we were quite close.

Then one day Silu’s father was arrested and imprisoned for various crimes, and Silu’s world came crashing in. Silu tried to understand and cope with the shame and the challenges this created for his mother and younger siblings. But since he hadn’t learned coping skills, he became angry—angry at people, angry at his students, angry at me and angry at God. So Silu ran away to Puerto Princesa, the capital city, for seven years. Every so often, he would return to visit Kemantian. He would try to make it appear that his life was going great, that he was happy and making money.

Today while I was doing errands in town, Silu called my cell phone and told me a very different story. He admitted that he was unemployed and lonely and had been looking for someone to talk with. I told him I was willing to listen if he wanted to talk. He then reiterated how he had felt hurt and misunderstood by so many people, and he had run away to Puerto looking for a “peaceful life.” He had tried to make money and friends, tried to appear successful, but he told me that really he had lost everything—his life and his faith.

Silu sounded ready to give up, and yet he seemed unwilling to make significant life changes. For several hours as I waited to speak with the city mayor, I texted Silu in the Palawan dialect, “listening,” giving advice and encouraging him to return to Jesus, the only One Who could fill his wasted life with purpose and joy. I thought to myself, Who would have thought that I would be spending hours texting in another dialect trying to rescue a jungle-boy-turned-city-boy; a Christian son turned prodigal?

When I assured Silu that we still loved him and had forgiven him for all the unkindness he had shown us, and that we would help him find work if he wanted to come back, he thanked me for all the advice. “It helped me a lot,” he said.

I pray that the next time I go to Puerto Princesa I can find Silu and lead him back to Christ. In the meantime, please be praying that this young man will be rescued from the clutches of the evil one and that he will return to sweet fellowship with his church family and his mother, sister and brothers.

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