Dear Praying Friends,

I find it incredibly ironic, almost humorously so, that someone such as I, whose biggest fear in life is the fear of the unknown, be given the task of surveying the unknown, analyzing the unknown, and strategizing how to reach the unknown.

I must confess that one particular unknown that plagues me on a daily basis during a survey trip is not knowing where or what conditions we will be facing when we set up camp for the night. Where will it be tonight? Beside a smoky fire? In the village school building? The bottom of the canoe tied to the side of the river. Under a tarp in a mosquito net in the jungle? The floor of an evangelists house? If I think about it long enough I can conjecture all kinds of sleeping conditions.

On the first night of this last trip we found ourselves setting up camp on the edge of the river near a long house. Normally, I suppose we would have been invited to spend the night inside the long house but on this occasion the head man didn't seem too keen on that. And we didn't mind. After all there was almost a full moon, a clear sky, stars galore winking at us, etc. Not a bad night at all for sleeping outside.

That was at 8:00pm. By 9:00 a storm had blown in, drenching us non-stop till early the next morning. I spent much of the night lying flat on my stomach, soaking wet, shivering, my arms tucked underneath me, watching streams of water flow through my sleeping place.

Times like these become great moments of contemplation. Nothing else to do. I thought about Christ and the verse that mentions to us that he had no place to lay his head. I wonder if he ever thought, "I can't wait to get home, take a nice hot shower, and climb between the crisp sheets of my own bed." Maybe the bed and shower are a bit farfetched. If so, what did he miss???

I also thought about our host and our strange meeting with him earlier that day. When we had pulled up to his longhouse he had climbed down the bank of the river and hopped into our canoe, talking casually as if he had been expecting us all along and was wondering what took us so long.

I'm sorry but I can't tell you what he said. It's not that what he said was bad or off color. It is just that what he said was said in a language that had never been analyzed, broken down, written, or studied before. To the outsider, namely me, it sounded more like garble, mutterings, or utterances as opposed to a language.

When I looked back at our boat driver and our guide, two men from Biak, I could tell that they were hearing the same thing I was hearing. I'll give them this though, they were trying their hardest. Using hand signals and Indonesian they were trying to tell him that we're not tourists we're missionaries. We didn't want anything from him. We weren't going to harm him. We just wanted to spend the night in his village.

From the front of the boat I could hear yet another language being spoken as our friend from the Citak language tried to communicate with the man as well. Eventually, he too conceded and resorted to hand signals. This lasted for a little while until finally he looked at me and formed a frustrated apology. "I sorry. I don't understand him. He's speaking a different language."

Sooo we looked at him, he looked at us, and we all scratched our heads and thought to ourselves, (in our own language of course), "Now what???" This was punctuated by one of those long periods of awkward silence that our western culture works so hard to avoid.

I'd say the man was about 5 foot tall, maybe a little more. He was naked except for a loin cloth and some bamboo strips tied around his waist. He had big looping earrings and a number of piercing in his nose. Each of these had bones taken from bat wings protruding out of them. And last but not least, in his hand he was holding a bow and a bundle of arrows.

After what seemed like five hours into our staring match, someone made the brilliant suggestion that we go back downstream and bring someone back who could speak this man's language and explain our intentions to him. Does anyone out there have any idea how to hand signal to a man holding a bundle of arrows -- "If you'll just excuse us for a moment and climb out of our canoe we will go down stream and be back in a short while with someone who can explain this all to you." ??? If hand signals fail, I wonder how he would perceive a firm nudge in the direction of the river bank???

Somewhere in my reflection of this strange meeting the sun rose, the rain and shivering stopped, and another day began.

We can really praise the Lord for the trip he gave us. He gave us some good contacts, good prospects, and a better understanding of the area along the South Coast of Irian. Please continue to pray for us in this information gathering stage. There is still much work to be done.

This Monday I would appreciate your prayers for a trip I will be taking to the Dao valley. It is unrelated to the South Coast survey but is nevertheless an area of Irian that we are greatly interested in and burdened for.

Thank you for your prayers for Carolyn and the girls during these busy times. We sure do appreciate it.

In Christ,

Stephen