One of my partners and myself just got back from a four day hike further up into the mountains to visit another one of the Hewa tribal villages that we have not seen yet. It was a very difficult hike and we are very glad to be back home with our families again and in the comfort of our own homes. We had a good time and we felt like we got a little more insight into the Hewa language and culture. I wrote of my experience one evening when I couldn’t sleep. Susan and the kids are not able to make such a hike so they like me to write the experience down on paper to share with them later. I thought I would share it with you also so you would know how to pray.
Ok, so I am complaining a little. I have been hiking for three days now trying to visit another remote Hewa tribal village. After the long grueling hikes I am having less and less success trying to sleep on the wooden floors in the village houses. I role over again for the hundredth time trying to find a comfortable position. No such thing I guess. I know I am not the only one having a hard time sleeping because I can hear a man chanting quietly in the darkness. On the other side of me, I can hear a child crying somewhere not too far from my head. Over by one of the fire pits I see an old man role over and sit up, stirring the fire to try to get more warmth. Suddenly a pig fight breaks out in the pig stalls underneath the floor of the house. I groan, wondering if again I will not get much sleep tonight. I fumble around in the darkness trying to feel for my flashlight to see what time it is. Good grief, it is only a little past 2 am! A baby is crying again and I hear a woman talking to him in a language that I can’t understand yet. A rooster crows underneath the house. I guess it can’t sleep either.
Later I sit up again in the darkness. I see only two of the four fires are burning now. It’s a little colder in here but at least there is less smoke. “Lord”, I pray, “1 am tired of this.” The adventure and excitement of meeting a group of people from another Hewa village has long since gone. Why did I come here to be a missionary to the Hewa people in the first place? The reasons for living with a remote tribal group are like the smoke slowly seeping through the thatch roof of the hut, silently vanishing into the darkness. Did I come here because I thought I might be able to help the Hewa people better their way of life? Did I think I could give them a cleaner water supply? Did I think that I could help them get more decent clothing? Did I assume that I could bring them a few pots or knives or blankets to increase their standard of living?
The sound of someone chanting in the darkness is finished now and is replace by gentle snoring. My arm has gone to sleep, and I sure wish the rest of me would also. “Lord, please help this to be worthwhile. Please work in the hearts of these tribal people so that when they finally hear the message of your Son for the first time they will believe and accept it.”
A rooster crows again but I still don’t see any sign of light through the cracks in the bark wall. “God, let your light shine through me into the hearts of these people.”
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