Yahweh's Canoe

How would you respond if someone said, "My wife has an evil spirit, can you come help?" Feeling ill-equipped for the task, I went anyway. And, keeping ill-equipped as the theme, listen as I dealt with a fishhook buried deep in a child's foot.

Join me on my first and second successful crocodile hunts. Two hunts. Two locations. Same crocodiles.

I was ill-equipped to care for a woman with a severely injured hand. But if the best camera is the one you have (as they say), then perhaps the best doctor is the same. Thankfully, a bald angel would descend from the sky in rescue.

These stories raised a difficult question: As a husband and father, what sacrifices can I make that aren't also sacrifices for my family? A fish bone and noodle challenged my resolve to continue church planting in the village.

Disclaimer: For any would-be missionary church planters, this story is descriptive and not prescriptive. This was a risky move that I can't recommend, though I will defend the principle behind it. If you're listening to find fault in my tactics out here, look no further. You've arrived at the correct episode. I've endeavored to not over-edit what I share, neither the stories that one could call victories, nor the stories that reveal my lapses in wisdom and/or caution. And while this one ended well, it was perhaps only so by God's mercy.

In Wabuku, the creepy-crawlies are always a-lurking, a danger from which I'm happy to protect my family. Usually. But sometimes wisdom dictates following Brave Sir Robin: "When danger reared its ugly head,He bravely turned his tail and fled ..."

I was allowed to join our neighbors on a trip to another village. It was a trip I would only attempt once. But a special treat awaited me when we finally conquered the black lake.

One night, three witch doctors came to my house and demanded money in exchange for leaving us alone. They warned that if we didn’t pay, they would use black magic to block our supplies and turn the village against us, forcing us out. What followed was a direct confrontation—between sorcery, fear, and social power on one side, and the Creator God on the other—where it would become clear whose power would prevail.

After Arabmat died, the elders performed a seance to determine who caused his death. At night, a burning log was hung from a rope through the floor of a house while the village gathered outside. The dead man’s spirit was called on to reveal the guilty person by breaking the rope when a name was spoken. One by one, the names of the men in the village were called, with the belief that when the rope failed, responsibility had been exposed./ and / After a woman died in childbirth, the seance ritual was performed again to determine who was responsible. This time, I watched from inside the house. When the rope broke during a name they didn’t want to accept, the ritual was simply restarted. What followed raised a deeper question about the true power behind the rituals.

A doctor said Arabmat was going to die. In this place, knowing that—and saying it—can get you blamed for causing it. It meant deciding whether to tell a dying man what was coming, knowing there was no clear or safe right choice./ and /After Arabmat died, there was a meeting to decide who was responsible. His brother Boni stood in front of me, shouting, with a bow and arrow pointed my way. I was injured, barely able to walk, and ended up hiding inside a house until I could slip away. He says it was a misunderstanding, but in that moment, I didn't think I'd be getting a chance to tell anyone this story.

We caught the burglar red-handed. But our choices were then to destroy his reputation or leave our families vulnerable. Not great options. And secondly, are isolated people groups happily living in harmony with themselves and with nature, just wishing to be left alone? This story forever changed how we answer that question. Content Warning: This episode contains a story involving the death of a baby in the context of ancestral traditions. It may be difficult for some listeners.

When is it better not to model Jesus' compassion? When is it better not to pray? These two stories may be examples. Perhaps there are moments it's better to watch than to get involved. It's a lesson I had to learn many times here in Wabuku.

In this episode I share the story of unknowingly participating in a ritual to make someone fall in love. Then, I share the story of my first significant decision as a tribal church planter, to end the church that met in our village.

In this episode, I share two stories from early days in Wabuku that still sit in the back of my mind. The first is about a thunderstorm that rolled over Markus' house, and the way he protected himself against it. The second is Dowo trying to discern which of their reincarnated dead ancestors I was. Both conversations shed valuable light on their world. And both situations raise more questions than answers.