Sabbath school Mission stories

05/04/2025

The title: Long Walk to God, Part 2.
In the quiet mountains on the border between Thailand and Myanmar, a young boy named Pada grew up in poverty, watching the world from the shadows of hardship. He lived with his mother in a small, simple home, where survival was the goal and dreams were a luxury. He had never stepped foot inside a school, and at twelve years old, his future seemed as uncertain as the mist-covered peaks surrounding his village.
But then, something unexpected happened—his older brother Morja changed. He left the family religion and became a Seventh-day Adventist, something that puzzled Pada. What could possibly make his brother walk a different path?
Curious and seeking answers, Pada accepted an invitation to live with Morja, his wife, and their three sons. Every Sabbath, they would rise before dawn and walk eight miles—no matter the rain, cold, or fatigue—to attend church. At first, Pada didn’t understand. But he watched. He listened. He saw.
He saw how Morja gave tithe and offerings faithfully, even though they weren’t rich. He saw how the family always had food, clothes, and tuition for the boys’ school. Morja told him, “I’m returning to God what already is His—as a thank-you gift.”
Years passed. Pada remained quiet, observant. He began to see a pattern: despite not having wealth, his brother had peace, provision, and purpose.
Morja’s three sons grew older and went to an Adventist school in another town. Morja was not rich, but somehow he found the money for his sons’ tuition.
At fifteen, never having gone to school, Pada had a question burning in his heart: “Could this be why my brother became an Adventist?”
And then, a miracle began.

04/20/2025

My name is Renato.
It was the night before my 37th birthday, and I was alone in Thailand far from my home in Brazil. As a missionary teacher in my first year here, I didn’t know how to celebrate. So, I asked my pastor for something unusual.
Let me preach, I said. I’m far from family, far from everything familiar. Preaching is the only way I know to celebrate.”
That Friday night, I was going over my sermon notes, preparing to share the Word the next day. But then, the phone rang. It was a call from the South American Division back in Brazil. I had no idea that God was about to rewrite my birthday plans.
“A Brazilian young man has been arrested at the Bangkok airport for drug trafficking,” said the church leader on the phone. “He used to be a member of the church. Could you go to him? He needs someone to pray with him. Maybe give him a Bible. He needs someone to hug him.”
My heart broke. I didn’t know this young man, and I barely spoke Thai. I felt nervous — even afraid. But I couldn’t ignore the call.
I put aside my sermon notes and rushed to the airport. But when I arrived, it was too late. The young man had already been transferred.
There was nothing more I could do that night.
Weeks went by. Then another call came — this time from his lawyer in Brazil. She told me he was being held in a prison near Bangkok. “Could you go visit him?” she asked.
I went. That visit turned into a regular part of my life.
We talked about God. He told me he wanted to make things right. He knew he had made a big mistake. I brought him food, since prison meals often included pork and seafood — things he didn’t eat. His mother and I worked together to make sure he was taken care of.
Then his lawyer asked me to visit another Brazilian inmate. And just like that, I found myself not just teaching fourth graders — but also becoming a missionary to two young men behind bars.
Now I visit them every month. I pray for them. I pray for their hearts to be changed. I may never know what will come of it, but I trust that God is planting seeds.
This wasn’t the birthday I expected. But it was the birthday God had planned for me.

04/17/2025

It began in class. I was fascinated by what I was learning in world civilization. But in Bible class, something grabbed hold of me. We studied a prophecy in the book of Daniel that outlined the rise and fall of major world empires. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the Bible’s account matched what I was learning in history. I asked myself, “How is this possible?”
Then the 1967 Six-Day War happened. I read the headlines: Israel had defeated several larger neighboring countries. That small nation, only founded in 1948, had somehow won. I wondered, “Is this the same Israel from the Bible we’re studying?”
I started searching for answers. I found a book written

Je m'appelle Soorachet.Lorsque je suis arrivé dans un lycée adventiste du septième jour en Thaïlande, j'ai pris une décision ferme : « Je resterai dans le do...

04/17/2025

When I first arrived in Bangkok, Thailand, I was filled with anticipation—but also uncertainty. I was 36, a long way from my home in Brazil, and I had just signed up to be a volunteer missionary teacher at an Adventist school. It was a new beginning, but I wasn’t exactly sure what I was walking into. Was I really ready for this? Was I late to the game?
Early the next morning, I stretched in the lobby of my apartment building, trying to shake off the jet lag before a run. That’s when an elderly Thai woman approached me. She didn’t hesitate.
“Who are you?” she asked bluntly.
“I’m a new teacher,” I replied.
“Where are you from?”
“Brazil.”

03/21/2025

Philip stepped off the plane in Atlanta, his heart brimming with excitement and a hint of nervousness. At just 23 years old, the young South Korean missionary had committed to three months of service in the Compass Missionary Training Program. His mission was clear: work with refugees during the week and teach children’s Sabbath School on weekends. What he didn’t anticipate, however, was the life-changing lesson that awaited him—not from the people he served, but from his own heart.
Philip was paired with Samuel, a fellow missionary three years his junior. They moved into a rented house together, but their relationship quickly became strained. Samuel was slow to think and speak, a habit that irked Philip. Simple moments, like deciding what to eat or how to prepare meals, became sources of frustration. The tension between them grew silently, simmering beneath the surface.
One evening, Samuel tried to reheat a leftover Korean rice cake but burned it in the oven. Annoyed, Philip held his tongue. When Samuel tried again using a stovetop pan and met the same fate, Philip’s patience wore thin. But still, he said nothing, allowing resentment to build.
A month into their mission, Samuel hesitantly suggested they pray together before heading out to work with the refugees. This was a new routine for them, but Philip agreed. Then came the shock. As Samuel slowly spoke his prayer, his words cut Philip deeply: “Please, Lord, help me not to hate Philip.”

03/18/2025

10/27/2024

This week mission story is coming from the city of Page