I Was Hungry — And Someone Stayed to Help

Hunger is quiet. It does not always cry out. In the homes of brick-kiln families in Kasur, it can look like a parent skipping a meal so the children eat first, or a family stretching what little they have and hoping tomorrow is kinder. Sickness can be just as quiet — a fever endured because medicine costs money the family does not have, a worry carried alone because there is no easy help nearby.

Rising Stone Mission tries to meet people right there, in those ordinary, heavy moments. Food is part of this ministry, not as an extra, but as a basic expression of love. A person who is hungry finds it hard to hope, hard to pray, hard to listen to teaching about a good future. So we share food where we can, we pray with families, we sit with them in worship on Sundays, and we stay connected after the first help is given. Freedom from kiln debt matters deeply to us, and so does what happens the next morning — whether there is something to eat, whether the children can go to school, whether a sick family member can get some care.

Jesus described this kind of love in words that still search our hearts: “For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink… I was sick and you looked after me.” — Matthew 25:35-36

Notice how personal those words are. Jesus does not speak only about great projects or large organisations. He speaks about a meal given, a drink offered, a sick person looked after. Small things, done for a real person, count in His eyes as if they were done for Him. That gives dignity to the smallest act of care, and it gives us courage on the days when what we can do feels very little.

And we will say that honestly: it is little, some days. For the sick, we arrange medicines as far as our very small means allow — real help, but small in scale today because our funds are limited. We would rather tell you that plainly than dress it up. This is the work we are doing, and this is the work we long to grow. Every partner who joins this mission, every friend who prays and gives, helps that small care reach a little further — another family fed, another child in school, another sick person not left to face the night alone.

If this touches your heart, please do not look away quickly. Pray for the kiln families of Kasur — for full stomachs, for health, for freedom, and for the quiet strength to keep going. Share this mission with your church or a friend who cares about such things. And if you are able to give, give with joy, knowing it becomes something very practical and very human on the ground: food on a table, medicine in a hand, and the reminder to a weary family that they have not been forgotten — not by God, and not by His people.

If you would like to stand with a family like this one, you can see how partnership works here.