PNG finds sweet spot in memory bank

Each renewal spreads its own blanket on the lawn of my memory. They invite me over to feast on picnics lovingly packed, enjoyed with good friends on autumn afternoons or spring mornings. No matter the actual temperature at a renewal, whether a blustering snow storm in Russia (2003) or the sweltering temps of Thailand (2003), Benin (2004), Indonesia (2006), Kenya (2007) or Papua New Guinea (last week), the memory eventually records the days as more than pleasant--they are extraordinarily sweet, always enjoyable.

The fact that the team has threatened me if I post our pictures, the ones that show exactly how bad we actually looked last week, remains beside the point. For even today, only three days after my return, the memories have begun to shift away from the stifling, thick, and humid air and the perspiration- (make that sweat-) covered limbs to matters of more importance. I recall the precious, godly servants who attended, women weary and worn from life in such an extreme environment, women whose hearts long to serve God as if every day could be lived in the energy of fall afternoons or spring mornings.

Though we grow amused with our repititions, we again admit that we have never hosted a renewal like this one. Then again, we have never before visited Papua New Guinea, home of the largest mission post in the world--Ukarumpa. By now, we long to see this "city," this one square mile of something that must be similar to a military outpost, built for the safety of the troops. About 80 percent of our 41 participants serve there. We are told that the fence bears barbed wire coils across the top, that it is guarded night and day and that the tribes that inhabit the area are at war; the children can count the armed guards and hear the gunshots from the battles outside the walls. Inside the walls live about 1500 who support Wycliffe's work to translate the Bible into the 800-odd languages that inhabit this small South Pacific country. They are linguists who enter the villages to learn those languages, sometimes even developing the written language and teaching it to the natives; they are translators going back and forth between the village and "city," busily exegeting the current text, translating and preparing to translate the Bible into the natives' languages; they are teachers, assigned to the area's school where about 250 students from more than a dozen nationalities receive their educations; they are workers who assign housing, receive goods, and generally work in support of one another. Those who must go out into the villages do so for stints averaging 4-6 weeks at a time. Children younger than seventh grade can go with their parents. After seventh grade, their timely education demands that they remain behind in a hostel with loving care-givers, but separated from their parents, nonetheless.

These are women who believe in the sacrifice they are making, but that does not make the sacrifice any less difficult. They are not complainers; they are disciplined and decided and determined. Most live in the "Highlands," that is in the mountains of the country where it is cooler, but also more remote than the resort where we stayed. They have limited Internet access, limited food options, and limited medical care. An injury or illness of any consequence requires an air-lift to Caines, Australia, an expensive endeavor that leaves families in debt. Because they move to and from the various villages, they rarely lodge in the same place more than a group of months. Each time they go to the village, most must move out--lock, stock, and barrel--to make room for the next. When they return, they usually move into different lodging. Each of these missionaries raise their own support but work, nevertheless, within long-established rules and disciplines. Wycliffe missionaries founded the city in the mid-to-late 50s. More than one of those we served had parents or friends who had served there a generation earlier. Like all places, it is a place to love and a place of challenge, but it is life.

We can blame that life for the fact that we had more cancellations (all for good cause) than ever before; it is also the reason we filled every slot as fast as it came open. In the last week before the renewal, we had four cancellations and six additions--four new names surfaced after we left home. Whereas Monday morning (the day we open) is normally reserved for mental preparations and putting together last minute details, the Monday in PNG was full of decisions and just plain hard work. Someone who has never seen our program cannot truly appreciate all that had to be done for one addition--much less four! We had to rearrange our rooming lists which had been "finalized" a couple weeks earlier. The hotel had no more vacancies, but they were willing to add beds to rooms we had already reserved. Rearranging rooms meant switching roommates, a prayerful effort requiring lots of attention to age, ministry, interests and requests. And of course, we had to locate more gifts, more notebooks and materials, name tags--well everything. For the first time ever, we had to improvise because the number had outgrown our provision. I was so proud of the team; we adjusted, bringing to bear all of our creativity and flexiblitly; each one stepped up to fill the gap as we set about to mirror our God and bring order out of chaos. Even so, we were (almost) ready when the women began arriving a few hours before registration officially opened. That is, we were ready except for showers, our team picture and our final prayer time.

Once a renewal begins, the experience is like slipping off the side of a mountain crevice in snow skis--a free fall of exhilaration and excitement. Once you touch the ground, you depend on each turn to provide the necessary control to maintain balance and progress down the hill. My friend Mariana Long sighed in Australia on Monday morning a few hours before opening, "It is almost over," she said. She was right. That is exactly how it feels. We have worked years on a renewal to get to Monday, but once the opening ceremony begins, any old hand knows that the time is already drawing to a close, so quickly one stage follows the next.

And so it was in PNG. Clusters began after Monday's dinner, a nightly time of sharing and prayer in a small group. Reading groups, times for examining the text, begin on Tuesday morning, as do three different "brands" of reflection--silent, active and artistic. One-on-one personal prayer appointments begin Tuesday afternoon. By Wednesday night, all the scheduled "classes," reflective periods, and individual prayer sessions are complete. Thursday becomes a day of sharing what God has done, a day of celebration! Friday awakens with the closing ceremony, lunch and departure.

The time slips by in a mist, but such a beautiful haze it is, airbrushing the horizons of each picture with a vignette that somehow captures the sweetness of the Christian experience. Each one can be framed in joy and thanksgiving. We loved our time in PNG, meeting some of God's most diligent and sacrificial servants, and when we left, it was if the island demanded that we leave a part of our hearts behind. So we did; it seemed only appropriate.


Photos by the FABULOUS Mariana Long.