Crossing town during our final day in Myanmar, it begins to rain. The taxi driver casually digs in the glove box and hands me a loose tool to crank up the windows by hand . Later, and only after I have paid his fare, he hands me another loose handle to open the door and let myself out. If one does not pay, one cannot get out. This is Myanmar. Yet as we continue to seed solid resources into this nation, things will change. They have to. Even a small light on a hillside can be seen for miles. The rising church is beginning to make a difference—and you are part of that work!