Houses are typically rough-hewn wood, dirt floors, thatched roof, with no windows. The cooking fire is either inside the home or under an extended roof overhang to enable cooking during the almost daily rains. As a result, their homes, clothing, and hair normally smell like smoke. The village footpath weaves close between the houses, reducing the already minimal privacy.

As in most communities, the church in Fukatabe looks different than most of the other buildings. The church is surrounded by a fenced courtyard, separated from the public footpath. Entry to the courtyard is through a single arched opening in the fence. The courtyard is clear and clean. A metal church bell fabricated from the salvaged remains of a Japanese torpedo hull hangs from a nearby tree. The exterior of the church building is made from wood planks that have been planed on all four surfaces. Windows of louvered glass accented with narrow stripes of bright yellow paint allow natural light to fill the church while keeping the rain out. Two steps at the entry provide a place for shoes to be left behind and signal an elevated wooden floor. Two doors, the right side for women and girls and the left for men and boys, open to the only room. The front of the sanctuary is marked by banners and a simple wooden podium.

We entered the church not long after the third bell. Our hiking boots stood out from the tumble of worn flip flops outside the door. Inside the women and girls overflowed the right half of the room sitting close together. Men sat leaning against the left wall with boys scattered in cohorts nearby. Everyone had bathed after the second bell. In a village of ~350 people between one third and one half were in church. Two acoustic guitars strummed D, C, and G chords while a choreographed women’s tambourine rhythm section accompanied voices singing loud and clear without electronic amplification. James led rousing choruses in Folopa, Tok Pisin, and English. Hallelujahs sang out in every language.

After singing, it was time for testimonies. Neil translated in whispers for Heath and me. A young woman with a child on her hip walked to the front to give God praise for healing her family from illness. A middle-aged deacon testified to the change Christ made in his life and challenged the congregation to stand for Christ.

An old fight chief stood slowly to his feet to speak. He said, “When Heto Ali (Neil) left Fukatabe last time, we thought we would never see him again.” My heart skipped a beat. It seemed as though the congregation’s breathing slowed. The fight chief scanned the room with unfocused eyes. Everyone was listening. He continued, “But he came back and brought us more help (vaguely gesturing toward Heath and me). We need to be thankful for their help and not waste it.” Then he sat down.

Oliver stepped to the front and described the technical resources we brought to support translation of the Old Testament, giving thanks to God and to each of us. Pastor Paul followed with additional words of thanks.

Although Neil is an eloquent and inspirational communicator, he prefers to let God’s Word speak plainly. The passage for the morning was from 1 John chapters 1 and 2. He read through the chapters slowly in Folopa, letting every word sink in.

“This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin” 1 John 1:5-7.

Light and darkness are physical and spiritual realities the Folopa know intimately. These are not abstract concepts requiring a lot of additional explanation and illustration. Light and darkness are daily realities in Fukatabe. When the sun sets in a village with no electricity, they understand darkness. On the day we arrived, they had buried a wicked man. The prospect of evil spirits lingering over the village hung heavily in the air. Yet despite this understanding, the Folopa are subject to the same temptations to live in the shadows that each of us face. Legal, moral, and ethical failures are rationalized. In a place with little privacy, sins are known publicly but positions and relationships provide shadowy justification. God’s Word provides no cover. Neil exhorted the congregation to listen and heed God’s Word.

At the close of the service, the congregation responded with spontaneous embraces and handshakes. Uncertain of the cultural implications, I hugged and handshaked my way through the men and boys until someone tapped me on the shoulder and indicated that the women and girls were waiting. Every hand reached and shoulder leaned toward me. As always, I found myself wondering why in the world these people care anything about me and long to connect. I feel unworthy of their holy friendship.

The short walk from the church to Neil’s house was filled with photos in anticipation of his imminent departure. Young girls who grew up with Heather and Wendy Anderson now have children tumbling from their hips and knees. Young boys who grew up with Dan and Bruce Anderson are community leaders with family and gardens of their own. Many of Neil and Carol’s closest village friends are no longer in the photos.

A new generation of Folopa is growing up—with God’s Word in their language.

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