(This was written circa 1991)
It was a hot night in Madang and as usual, we were hiding under the mosquito net protecting ourselves not only from the annoying mosquitoes but from geckos, rats and other creepy crawlies. The “fwop-fwop-fwop” of a bat flying through the night registered somewhere in the back of my mind. Those solid leathery wings make a distinct sound as they hit the air. It was the unanticipated sound in the sequence that surprised me.
Fwop-fwop-fwop- BONG!
The sound of a dull collision with our metal water tank caught me by surprise. A bat had hit our water tank? Sure enough, just outside our window was an unconscious little fruit bat lying on its back. I couldn’t tell if it was the victim of bad fruit or bad luck.
I was stunned. How many times had I seen and heard science documentaries that spoke of the astonishing radar of bats. Bats could circumnavigate every obstacle, even in the pitch of night, using their sonar. Yet, here in Papua New Guinea, home to thousands of bats, one of these creatures, unfamiliar with the science, had flown head long into a tree and knocked himself senseless.
An analogy for missions was born.
Prior to becoming a missionary, I read every mission biography I could possibly lay my hands on. I marveled at CT Studd. I felt a lump in my throat reading of Amy Carmichael. I was practically discipled by Helen Rosevear, who was a personal favorite because of her down to earth approach to writing. I had seen movies, read books, listened to famous missionary speakers and they seemed sure of where they had been and where they were going. They seemed humble, joyful, purposeful, and always anchored in truth.
Then I became a missionary and realized that missionaries, like bats, fly head long into objects, get knocked senseless and must recover.
This was a very encouraging realization. I am honest to a fault. I discovered that it wasn’t too long before I looked at others and found myself asking, “Am I the only one wondering about this?” Years later I realize that I am one of the few giving voice to what everyone is thinking.
God use ordinary people just as He uses ordinary bats. The encouraging thing is that there are no special bats or special people. The discouraging thing is that there are no excuses. You can’t look and say, “That person is so amazing to go there. I could never do that”. The person you are looking at can’t really do it either without an amazing portion of grace that cannot muster in and of themselves. It’s a huge grace trip from beginning to end.
So I’m thankful that bat flew along and reminded me that ordinary is OK. The bat, by the way, recovered and flew on. So will we.
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