Rephidim

Runway at AAI where I exercise in the mornings and evenings.

I guess this kind of a post was bound to come sooner or later. I “knew” what I was getting into by signing on to be a missionary. You know—all those challenges that you hear people face in developing countries: getting sick, creepy crawlies, lack of resources, being far from home, unfamiliar language, strange food, etc. But hey, I’m already a TCK and an MK (lived in an urban mission field until age 7), I’ve gone on multiple school mission trips, I’ve roughed it on backpacking trips, and I feel like I’m a very adaptable guy.

Sure there would be bouts of missing friends and family, and frustration with having to learn how to live in a new culture. Yes, there would be the challenges of learning to communicate in a new language. Of course it would be hard. But it wasn’t supposed to be overwhelming. I mean, I was coming to work as a pilot.

And yet 3 months in, I’ve experienced a struggle I was not anticipating. First the unwelcome news about the damaged wing. Ok, we'll work on the backup plan and start flying. Then after delays in getting the necessary parts and deciding to go ahead with repainting the wing, the unexpected news that Gary was going to have to take a business trip to Europe, with no clear ETA on returning. He ended up being gone nearly a month, during which I lost a special friendship and was left scraping paint off the wing for days wondering what had happened and when things would get better. Then Simon the mechanic got sick and went home to Java, all but halting the remaining work on the plane.

When everyone eventually returned and the plane was finally ready for its government airworthiness inspection, Gary found out he’d be having to take another unscheduled trip out of the country for paperwork reasons. For how long? It wasn’t supposed to take more than 2 weeks. That was 2 weeks ago; the latest is that it could be another 2 weeks.

My current kingdom. At least I'm getting spoiled by the AC!

I was dreading him leaving again, remembering what those 3 ½ weeks in October and November were like. Those were rough, long days. I guess it was time for round two. This time I’ve found myself working alone in the parts room with the task of organizing a collection of components from 3 different types of aircraft, labeled and unlabeled, which has fallen into disarray over the past several years. At least Simon is still out working in the hangar and I take breaks to go and chat with him. But then it’s back to the parts room to try to make sense of the mess.

Waiting is hard. But waiting in uncertainty is harder. And being stuck with my thoughts and memories for hours on end while I wait is the hardest. It’s not even so much about the flying  anymore. I just need to able to immerse myself in something meaningful and rewarding, that has purpose. But what I came here to do remains beyond reach.

 

Yes, the reality of missionary life—in my own individually tailored version—is definitely setting in. The ironic thing is that if you look at it from a purely academic standpoint, I'm simply in the second stage of culture shock. Yes, as much as I hate to admit it, it’s true that the classic progression applies to me. But when you throw in the additional layers of uncertainty, loss, and the realization that I’m still discovering what makes me thrive and ultimately what my place in life is—I think it makes for a much more complex emotional brew.

So why am I writing all this? Partly to vent. To share that modern missionaries experience real emotional struggles. Guys too. But also to share a critical lesson that I’m in the middle of learning and relearning.

You see I recently read something in a devotional that made me stop and think. It was about the story of the Israelites on their way from Egypt to the Promised Land. They had just experienced a miraculous exit from Egypt, walked through the Red Sea on dry ground, and were now having the daily miracle of manna being provided for them to eat. With all these events in the recent weeks, we read that they “set out on their journey…and camped in Rephidim; but there was no water for the people to drink.” Exodus 17:1.

This was not good. Why in the world would this group of two million people end up in a place devoid of water? Because God led them there. That’s right. They weren't wandering along at random, neither was Moses choosing the route. God Himself was leading them visibly: “And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so as to go by day and night. He did not take away the pillar of cloud by day or the pillar of fire by night from before the people.” Exodus 13:21. Supernatural, divine guidance doesn’t get any more obvious than that.

And yet, following all the miracles these people had just experienced, we find them becoming so desperate with their current circumstances that they were on the verge of stoning Moses. Right in the shadow of that visible token of God’s presence. Sure, their immediate need was real. But so was the manna they had just eaten that day. Did God really intend to kill His people by thirst, after having provided in every other way? What would be the point of a story like that?

So it’s easy for me to look at the story and point out the obvious. Hey guys, look! This isn’t some bad mistake. I mean, see the cloud over there! Of course God knows there’s no water here, so just ask for help and He'll take care of it. It’s so simple, right? And for those of you who are familiar with the story, you'll remember that God indeed worked another miracle and produced a water supply from the dry rock.

And then I realize it’s my own story. I didn’t end up here by some fluke of circumstances or the flip of a coin. No, this journey has been the result of many prayers and I can say God led me here. And here I am…struggling being in the place He has put me.

The words of the author Ellen White really start to hit home now:

“…every one who takes up his cross to follow Christ comes to a Rephidim in his experience…. Disappointment overtakes us; privations come; circumstances occur which bring us into difficult places. As we follow in the narrow way, doing our best, as we think, we find that grievous trials come to us. We think that we must have walked by our own wisdom far away from God. Conscience-stricken, we reason, if we had walked with God, we would never have suffered so…. But of old the Lord led His people to Rephidim, and He may choose to bring us there also, in order to test our faithfulness and loyalty to Him. In mercy to us, He does not always place us in the easiest places; for if He did, in our self-sufficiency we would forget that the Lord is our helper in time of necessity. But He longs to manifest Himself to us in our emergencies, and reveal the abundant supplies that are at our disposal, independent of our surroundings; and disappointment and trial are permitted to come upon us that we may realize our own helplessness, and learn to call upon the Lord for aid, as a child, when hungry and thirsty, calls upon its earthy father.” [Emphasis supplied] Signs of the Times, September 10, 1896.

Wow. This is where I’ve found myself. And this is where God is too. It’s okay to admit to the difficulty and the struggles. But I also have to admit that God knew exactly where this road would lead and He still took me on it. So that means He has a plan and my job is to simply ask Him to help me. Of course my needs aren’t immediate life and death problems such as running out of water, so the answer to the prayer will take longer. But it will come.

And it has already in some ways. I have a wonderful family spread across the world in multiple time zones, and almost anytime I need to call, one of them is awake and able to listen to me. A couple years ago the internet here in Papua was very poor; now I’m able to video call with very decent quality. Just to be able to talk to people who understand you like no one else is such a blessing—and from the other side of the world!

The entire Boyd tribe. (photo stolen from Facebook)

And I have family here too! The Boyd family, American missionaries with Adventist Aviation, have adopted me and in doing so helped me keep my sanity. They’ve made sure I always have a place to go on Friday evenings, they’ve listened to me, fed me, taken me hiking, and I don’t know what I would have done without them. I’m so grateful for them, and that’s another real manifestation that God is taking care of me.

As I finish up this post, I am feeling a lot better than last week. Of course things come in waves and I’ve got the classic human problem of forgetting lessons learned. But as a servant and child of God, I have the privilege of getting to see Him work miracles. So it’s only a matter of time until the next one.

On an abbreviated hike; we got back right before the downpour.

With the guys who still live at home and haven't left for college.

When I decided this was what I was going to write about, I was thinking, Boy, wouldn’t it be neat if God put a pillar of cloud outside that I could take a picture of so I can put it in my post? The very next day as I was walking back to the hangar from lunch, I came around the corner and there above the hills to the southwest I saw it. A beautiful towering column of cloud with an ethereal looking wispy halo on top illuminated by the sunshine above. It was spectacular.

I got a big grin on my face and my eyes misted up at the same time as I realized what I was looking at. My own pillar of cloud. Thank you Lord.

So right now, I’m right where God wants me to be. And even if it’s Rephidim, it’s good to know that Rephidim doesn't last forever. And while it continues, He's there right beside me.