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Thank you!

Down a muddy road and back

Even the rough truck ride home over a potholed road could not jar me from my thoughts.

I thought about the trip in. I was hoping to learn more about the local tribes, and we planned to drive all the way to village. But rain had made the roads into the village a veritable mud hole, and the third leg of the journey proved more than the driver was willing to risk. I walked the last three hours to the village, carrying a 50 pound backpack.

Bosko, a tribal believer, encouraged me, saying, "It is hard now but it will be all worth it when we get to eat God's Word!"

I thought about that first morning as we trudged through the rain to the house of worship -- a blue tarp held up by poles. One light was over the place the teacher would speak; he was also provided with a microphone and speakers.

Seeing so many who needed to be taught from the Word of God – and their eagerness to learn -- the leaders of the Mangseng church organized the conference without any missionaries’ help. 

Four hundred men, women and children representing four different tribal groups sat on split logs only inches off the ground without backrests, anxious to hear the teaching. They sang in Pidgin and their own languages accompanied by guitars and kundu drums for a half hour. Then the teaching started and continued for four hours.

After a lunch break came two more hours of teaching.

I thought about the evenings. The village was filled with singing as small groups of believers clustered together and sang to the Lord and shared testimonies of what God had done for them. This happened for three days and nights: the people sitting through the teaching all day and singing at night.

The believers couldn't talk enough about the Lord and rejoiced together as they listened to all He had done for them. These were people who had been enemies and for good reason: they stole each other's women so they could have wives and robbed each other of pigs. For each violation a reprisal was meted out against the perpetrator. This had been going on for as long as the tribal people could remember! 

Yet here they sat singing praises to God, giving testimonies of God's goodness and planning on how they could share the Word of God with others who had not heard or were persecuting them. 

I thought about the story a teacher told that stirred my heart. He related that the village chief was furious about the message he was teaching and came to confront him. While wielding an axe, his voice raged as he threatened to kill the teacher before night fall if he didn't stop his teaching.

The Bible teacher reached out to hold the chief's hand, a sign of friendship and said, "It doesn't matter if you kill me. I am not afraid of death because I will be with Jesus. If I die while doing His work He will be happy."

The chief was so taken aback he left the teacher unharmed. 

God is alive and working in these people's lives. They face the same struggles I face as a believer. Yet in spite of their very limited support and resources they are functioning as a New Testament church.

From my seat in the truck, the muddy, furrowed roads looked and felt the same on my return trip, but I was not. How sweet it is to fellowship with my brothers and sisters in the Lord no matter where I am in the world.

I had come as a spectator but I left as a participant.
Tags: Papua New Guinea Tribal Beat Stories,
POSTED ON Sep 26, 2006 by Jorg Neuland with Robin Wadsworth