Six hours upstream against the current of a crocodile-filled river—I barely managed to alternate between reciting Psalm 23, “You lead me beside quiet waters,” mentally humming the old hymn, “Master, the Tempest Is Raging,” and asking myself for the hundredth time whether I’d lost my mind.
Finally, the canoe dropped us off in the heart of “Nowhere.” It was already dark, but burdened with medications, we marched onward “over that mountain,” accompanied by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of palm trees.
Forty-degree heat, humid tropical air, and not the faintest breeze—we eventually reached the village of “Chili-Chili.” Suddenly, on the path ahead, a makeshift gate of palm leaves appeared, and a stern voice called out in Tok Pisin, “Why did you come?” Stunned, I looked at Zhenya, knowing that returning to the canoe wasn’t an option.
“We’ve come to share the Good News with you!”
Suddenly, the gates opened, and the brightly adorned villagers, dressed in feathers and paint, rushed out to meet us. I exhaled in relief—they had been waiting for us.
Over the next few days, we held a medical clinic, showed the Jesus film, and preached the Gospel. For the first time, I witnessed people literally RUNNING to the altar in repentance, so hungry were they for the Word of God.
We thank God for such an abundant harvest!
Ministry in PNG – Z & I Konstantiniki