By Steve Murrell (Victory Fire, Vol. 2 No. 7, September/October 1993)

Editor’s Note: Starting this week, we’ll be posting some articles written in the past to give you a glimpse of our history as a movement. The following article was taken from the September-October 1993 issue of Victory Fire, a magazine Victory released from 1992 to 1997, during the years when websites were non-existent.

Here’s an excerpt from an article by Pastor Steve Murrell written during the ninth year of Victory. Here, he recounts how he responded to God’s call in 1984.

Pastor Steve in one of our earliest Sunday services

As you may have heard, my wife and I originally came to the Philippines in 1984 for a one month summer church-planting excursion. Because of the abundant harvest and scarcity of workers, that one month quickly turned into two months. Two months into six, then nine, then twelve . . .

Now, after nine years, eighteen churches, three sons, seven coups, one earthquake, one volcano, one Victory Celebration tape, a few hundred typhoons, a few million brownouts . . . we’re still here! The longest one month in the history of the world!

When we first signed up for that “short-term” summer mission trip, we never dreamed we would live outside of the United States, the southern United States to be exact. We had never remotely considered being missionaries. In fact, we had already been living in the Philippines for two years before we even considered the possibility that God might be calling us to be missionaries.

By summer of 1984, Deborah and I had been married for all of two years. We had a nice little house, pastored a nice little church and lived in a nice little town (Starkville, Mississippi. Population: 12,000). Best of all we received a nice little salary. Yes, it was little; but it was nice, because it was consistent. We were paid the same little salary every Friday. It was usually spent by the next Thursday, but we always knew there would be more where that came from if we could just wait one more day. Not only did we have that little salary, we also had two little cars and a motorcycle. (Deborah hated riding that motorcycle with me because the helmet messed up her hair.)

Two weeks into that so-called “short-term” mission trip, something supernatural happened that forever changed our nice little lives (not to mention our address). The best way I can describe what happened is to quote Matthew 9:36.
When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.

I don’t cry very often, but that Sunday morning in June of 1984, on my knees during the first communion service of the new church we were birthing, I was moved to tears as I saw the crowds of new believers who were like sheep without a shepherd.

I knew I was not just in a rented hotel ballroom masquerading as a sanctuary. I was on holy ground. God was present and he was speaking more clearly than I had ever heard him speak. Without question I knew he was calling me to minister to this new church I had helped start in Manila’s University Belt. I had no idea when or for how long. I just sensed his calling to this city.

My response may not have been too original, but it was sincere. I responded the only way a sensible man could respond to the clear call of a holy God. “Here I am, send me!”

His call and my response meant no more nice little church and no more nice little town. It meant no more nice little consistent salary. I was now, as they say, “living by faith (pledges)” many of which turned out to be presumption pledges.

It didn’t take me long to find out that where God calls he always provides. His provision includes much more than money. For nine years he has faithfully provided not just the temporal necessities for our ministry. More importantly, he has abundantly provided His grace, His gifts, His presence, His power and His wisdom.

He will do the same for anyone who responds to His call to the nations.