If you travel far enough in the right direction you find people living in the most basic circumstances, much as they have for centuries, doing battle with the land and spiritual powers for survival.

Heightened anticipation of the day cut my sleep short. Our airport pickup was shortly after sunrise. As the pilot balanced passengers, cargo, and fuel for the flight, fog and low clouds drifted slowly across the valley. Even when it is not raining here, humidity saturates the air, condensing into cloud and sweat. Plane loaded, engine lit, we bounded down the dirt runway to begin our ascent.

After a few turns to avoid cumulo-granite buildups and some momentary obscurations, the Kodiak leapt into the sunshine. Wrinkled emerald mountains of rainforest descended below us, with soapy clouds pooled in the valleys. A slight drift south of the direct course put us aside peaks rising to 10,000 feet. In just 40 minutes, we were overhead Fukatabe.

The peak of Mt. Tawa was shrouded in clouds, but as my eyes traced the descending ridge, I saw the airstrip carved into the side of Mt. Tawa. It was a sight I was uncertain I would ever see again. My heart pounded. As we flew overhead, I could barely make out a few people hiking up the sides of the airstrip. The pilot banked the plane into a right turn as he descended for the approach. The mountains surrounded us, and even the valleys grew closer. As the plane lined up with the runway a stream of clouds boiled up from the valley to the left and veiled the airstrip. With practiced discipline, the pilot eased the throttle forward to stop our descent and turn away from the runway. At this slow speed, the airplane seemed to pivot in place on the air rising from the valley, but the pilot gently turned to widen our circle. He watched the rising clouds as he judged our altitude, airspeed, and distance to the airstrip. As the clouds thinned and a gap appeared he timed our turn to line up with the runway. Just a few seconds later our wheels touched the ground, and we taxied up the slope to the top end of the airstrip.

Through the airplane window, I recognized people that I know. They waved as though they could not wait another moment for the propeller to stop turning. Our eyes met. My heart pounded. As we stepped down from the plane, we were surrounded by a throng of Folopa. My dear friend Oliver dropped to his knees and hugged me tightly around my legs. I bent over to embrace him as he stooped. When he stood, we embraced some more. His wife tied a garland of flowers around my neck and around the neck of my son-in-law Heath. Our backpacks and cargo disappeared into the crowd as the embraces multiplied. After polite greetings, the pilot withdrew to the plane. As our Folopa throng made our way down the airstrip, the airplane lifted off, turning toward its next destination.

As we walked into the village, our host Neil began to fill us in on the local news. Just the day before a Folopa man had died in another location, and his body had been flown back to Fukatabe for burial. The man was a known scoundrel, certainly not a believer and is widely believed to have been killed by sorcery. While the people are mourning politely, there is a rising fear that his spirit would bring trouble to the village. This was just the latest in a series of deaths among the Folopa, and the people are weary from mourning.

We spent the rest of the morning catching up with Neil and the local community. Among the several challenges to launching the Folopa translation of the Old Testament, the local pastor and his wife are in the midst of severe problems. Neil, Heath, and I reflected on Scripture, shared counsel, and prayed together. As the afternoon drifted into evening, the pastor’s wife knocked at the door. With one child on her hip and another at her knee she came to ask for our prayers. She is in severe physical and emotional pain because of the stress in their marriage. So we talked, prayed, and cried together. The sun set, and not long after she left, the pastor came by. He described his own journey into deep personal and professional discouragement. Dreams unfulfilled, goals unmet, visions unrealized, and exhaustion in ministry. We spent some time reading and discussing Elijah’s similar experience and God’s response in I Kings 19 together. We counseled and prayed together throughout the evening. In a village like this there are no secrets, so the stress in their marriage has been discouraging to the church.

It is great to be back here. In time to embrace the Folopa people. To be awestruck and humbled by the beauty of God’s emerald green creation here in the mountains of PNG. To spend time with my friend Neil and my son-in-law Heath. I came to provide technology that will enable the Bible translation team in Fukatabe to communicate reliably with Neil when he returns to Spokane, WA. The technology is the easy part. The more important matter is to encourage the Christians here in their walk of faith. What is ultimately accomplished here will happen because of God’s power and the obedience of the Folopa believers. I’m privileged to walk a short stretch of this path with them.

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