Dedication Dates and Other Moving Targets

For months now we've been looking forward to announcing a date when the dedication of the New Testament will be a reality.  Recent political changes in Papua New Guinea have affected our ability to pin down the date.  The elections are a time of significant unrest and would be a huge distraction from something as important as the Mesem scriptures being distributed.

Last week a decision was made to postpone the dedication until January 2013.  While it is yet another delay, it is one that was not unforeseen by the Lord. Our current plan, Lord willing, is for Neil to return to Papua New Guinea when the New Testaments are due to arrive, and ensure they are securely stored until we can return for dedication.  When we do dedicate, Neil will need to spend about two months in the interior distributing the scriptures and teach people how to use the helps.

During this time we are asking the Lord's guidance as to our next steps. We are sure we are called to remain in missions but have been given three choices all of which we want to take as from Him and consider in prayer.  We believe we know where we are to land long term, but would the Lord like us to "linger a bit" and help other works in Papua New Guinea move forward? 

A long awaited newsletter will soon be out. We've joked that dates in PNG, like wild pigs, are moving targets. We will be as relieved as you when we have a firm date on which all church leaders agree!

Perspectives

Today I uploaded more photos to the Google web album. I had to re-upload several as I have not yet figured out how to keep them on the web without cluttering my hard drive. I'll figure that out later.

The news from PNG has been difficult. Election turmoil has made a delay in the New Testament inevitable.  The dedication cannot possibly take place before December. Neil will need to return at some point without us, and Tony and I will follow, Lord willing, at a time when the dedication does not preclude Tony attending. Communicating that the college school year in North America and the school year in Papua New Guinea are not the same is not always easy.

After 25 years of life in the South Pacific, delays are common. Few things run on the schedule we would have liked. I am by nature one to plan and well, that and South Pacific living are things that can be mutually exclusive. I learned a long time ago that I need to "let go" of my need for things to run according to some plan of mine. It has always belonged to Him.

In looking over these photos of days gone by, I cannot help but say, "Hitherto hath the Lord helped us". I did not think I would always make it to see the day when the New Testament would be completed. I smile at photos of doing the laundry by hand, which is more fun looking back than at the time, and I see photos of Tony growing up barefoot in the rainforest and remembering many good times as well. It gives perspective.

It was in 1990 that I wrote in my Bible, "God is more pleased by contentment than control".  Amen. He is the one to be in control. We can be content in that. <

A First Term Lesson-The Grace Given to Fruit Bats

(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.

A Rodent's Reaction to Espresso

In an effort to record those “stories we didn’t tell in church”, I am trying to give a weekly recap of memorable moments that never made the prayer letter. 

In 1990, Neil and I returned to our home in Dusin. We opened the door and were horrified to see more rat droppings than I have ever seen at any time in my life.  We’ve seen a lot of rats. We dispatched a lot of rats to the place that rats go when they are dispatched.  We just never quite saw the distribution of rat droppings that littered our house.  The Dusin house was entirely bamboo and had but one closed cupboard.  Our pots and pans were covered.  The bookshelves were littered.  As we made our way into the house, stepping gingerly, we had no choice but to put the boxes of supplies down on top of the mess.  Then we began to notice other things besides the droppings.  We had a really nice short wave radio on which we got all our outside news.  The antenna had been gnawed through.  The curtain cord was in shreds. Books were gnawed and toilet paper…a rather precious commodity, was no longer useable. (I am now a self-confessed "tp hoarder".)

I peeked into our extremely small bathroom and the plastic medications had holes in them.  The tips of everything from antibiotic ointment, to other medical tubes were totally gone and had to be tossed out.  We couldn’t figure out the cause for the devastation but began to clean, wash and boil.  (The Dusin house had only cold water so we had to heat the water if we wanted to shower or do dishes).

The loft was almost as bad as the downstairs, but we were grateful, after shaking off the droppings from our bed, that the Codan radio with which we communicated with the outside world was graciously untouched but for droppings on top of it. That could all be swept up.

I heard Neil call me and went to see what he’d found.  We’d been cleaning before we unpacked so things would be sanitary enough for the next several months.  The last place we looked was in the place where we stored our food because, well, there was never a lot of food left.  Neil dangle before me a desecrated bag of espresso coffee.  Suddenly the lights went on in our minds.  Yes,  “il ratto” had gotten into the espresso and “ZINGO” that had lit up its little body and thus began the carnage. We were looking at a rodent's reaction to espresso.

We cleaned that area really well too, though it was not nearly as bad as the rest of the place. I guess he started there, got his high and move on to more chewable things.  I had been counting on that coffee to get me through the next few months and was annoyed, albeit also amused, that the rat had taken as much as he had.  I actually debated throwing all the coffee out since I didn’t want the rat to win but I think I came up with what looked like a healthy compromise. We’re both still here, so as the saying goes, “If it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger”. I don’t know if that is true about most things, but it can be said about the remaining espresso.

If you are looking for a moral to the story here it is: keep your coffee in a metal can.