When I was first asked to go to Papua New Guinea to fly as a missionary pilot, I was full of excitement and curiosity as to what being a missionary pilot would be like and how the experience would affect my life. I have always felt inspired by the stories other missionaries have brought home and shared about the simple faith of mission field people and the lengths God goes to, to honor their trusting faith. This is a story like that.

I was looking forward to a few days away flying some pastors to one of the remotest corners of Papua New Guinea. Some of the pastors in isolated areas have endured and conquered for God in the most forbidding circumstances. At times just being in the presence of these spiritual giants brings with it an awareness that you are also in the awesome presence of the mighty angels who guard and guide them in their work of reaching out with hope and new life to lost souls in "the uttermost parts of the earth."

We loaded the supplies for the mission and mail from students and staff with families down at Kikori. The fuel drum pumping gear went in the pod under the aircraft in case we needed some of the fuel from our stash at Kikori due to unexpected extra flying. I checked the emergency locator beacon. We would be flying across some of the remotest wilderness on earth this day and I needed to be sure this rescue equipment was operational.

As we descended into Kikori I could feel the humidity and the temperature building with each 1000 feet closer we came to the tropical jungle of the Papuan Gulf below. Soon we were flying over the rusty roofs of the mission and gently cycling the prop to announce our arrival to the missionaries in the compound beneath. Three men in a dingy were laboring against the current of the Kikori River and maneuvering their way around the floating logs borne by the muddy waters from the overnight tropical rains. They waved as we approached low over their heads to the river end of the runway. There was a bang and a clatter as the wheels made contact with the world war II Marsden matting that covers the water logged strip to provide a firm surface for airplanes to land on. I have often wondered how this material has lasted that long in this harsh climate.

The missionary wives chattered excitedly as we unloaded the fresh highland grown vegetables. A rare delicacy for people living in this part of the country. As I stood under the shade of the wing, Pr Alfe, a retired missionary in Kikori, approached. The lines on this stalwart old missionaries face, drawn by the aches and pains of age and the wear and tear of years of battle for God, transformed into beams of joy and appreciation as I handed him a parcel and a letter from Delmae, his daughter who lived behind us on the mission compound in Goroka. Sometimes it is the small things a mission pilot does that make the biggest difference for people.

My next chore was to guide the many willing hands offered to turn the aircraft by hand on the boggy surface of the parking bay down by the mission and pull it out to firmer ground near the runway. After a few moments of animated gesticulation, pigeon English instructions and laughter all round, we were strapped in and sharing our departure prayer with those wonderful PNG believers crowded around the aircraft. In no time we were airborne, cleaned up, climbing out and rolling into a turn to take up a heading for Daru and the beautiful cool air above.

The scattered cumulus clouds adorned the blue sky like multi-scooped ice-cream that made you feel like reaching out and grabbing a handful as we transited the cloud base. This innocuous appearance belied the massive tropical thunderstorms they would grow into later in the day as they soaked up the moisture and energy around them. The world below was a spectacle to behold. To the West lay hundreds of square miles of the worlds most pristine untouched tropical rain forest much of it uninhabited by man but with many almost impossible to reach communities too who yet must await the bringing of the gospel.

Ahead our track line was intersected by the mighty Rivers of the South West. The Delta of the Fly River is dwarfed only by the Amazon itself. The mouth of this River stretches for many miles and is adorned with a number of islands, a few of which are dotted with sago leafed roofs indicating human habitation. Daru is an island off the South Coast and is home to several fishing boats. Importantly for us, it is also the only outpost where Aviation fuel is commercially available in this part of the country. The district director for the mission was waiting for us as we taxied in. The refuelers were nowhere to be seen however. I sat there on the main wheel as the good flying hours of the day ticked by with one ear half open to the local gossip being exchanged in animated tones around me.

Finally the sound of the refueler's tractor could be heard in the distance. The destination airfield out on the Indonesian border had the length to allow me to carry extra fuel which every body tries to do in these remote parts. Soon we were heading out over the channel between Daru and the mainland once more. As we passed over the villages below, the district director was enthusiastically pointing out various areas where missionary work was going forward. The country side was changing now. The South coast is a little drier than the Gulf country. Ant hills and kangaroos abound even in parts. Many of the local people bear a striking resemblance to the Australian Aborigines and one could be forgiven for wondering if we were actually in Northern Australia.

The cloud base was descending as we headed west. Soon I found myself at a few hundred feet above the forest bouncing along in the ground turbulence created by the wind. Just as I was feeling thankful that PNG is not festooned with hazardous high tension wires and other man made obstacles, there in front of me was a tall tower right there sticking up out of the jungle in the middle of no where! Papua New Guinea again lives up to its reputation of being "the land of the unexpected" Complacency surely is the mother of catastrophe for the unwary pilot in PNG.

Bensbach was a global mission area at the time. Its location on the border with Indonesia gave our missionaries there the opportunity to minister not only to the local people but also to many who were crossing the border in search of hope and salvation. I was ushered into a small but clean and neat house and laid my bags down. Out the window I noticed the banana trees were fenced. I had not seen this before in PNG. "Ah that's because the deer will eat them," smiled my host as he saw the perplexed look on my face. "There are hundreds of them around here," he went on, "and they eat everything."

I stretched out on the bed, dog tired after a very busy week. That's all I remember of the rest of that day. Sabbath morning dawned clear and calm. I felt refreshed now and was looking forward to the baptism planned for the afternoon. As we made our way through the trees, beautiful lagoons could be seen on either side as remnants of the wet season just passed. Presently we came upon a village atop an elevated piece of ground. As we entered the small new church building we were greeted by dozens of expectant smiling faces. Soon my eyes adjusted to the windowless light, and I noted that the covering of the walls and the roof was of what Australians would call paper bark. Not very hard wearing material in the elements but plentiful in supply here, so easy to replace.

There is something special about worshiping with bush people in a rustic bush material sanctuary, lifting up your voice with theirs in heart felt praise to the Great Creator God. The sincerity and warmth they exude towards visitors is very welcoming. Pastor Karo delivered a rousing pre- baptismal sermon. Before long we were winding our way down the path way back to the water to witness some of these dear people publicly declaring their love for Jesus and their intention to follow His will in their lives.

The place chosen for the baptism was one of the beautiful lagoons surrounded by trees. There was a triangular spit of land going out into the lagoon providing an ideal place for the candidates to enter the water and return. As the baptism got underway the sun went in behind a cloud. Totally absorbed as I was in the baptism itself I did not notice the huge storm brewing just behind the line where the trees ended. All the village had gathered to witness this event. People excitedly crowded onto the spit of land and the area where it adjoined the trail back up to the village. The people watched intently as one by one the candidates were baptized. Friends and relatives gathered around to congratulate them as they came up out of the waters of baptism. The thunder caught my attention as Pr Karo gathered the people around at the conclusion of the service and asked Pr Salau Povoso to make the concluding appeal to those standing near to follow the example of Jesus and be baptized.

Pr Salau enthusiastically began pleading with the people to be ready to meet Jesus who was coming again soon. The thunder was very close now and the trees began to sway this way and that. Pr Salau raised his voice to be heard over the inopportune intrusion of the elements. He began telling the people how much Jesus loved them, how He came down from heaven to sacrifice His life for each one of them and wanted to save them and give them life eternal. Just then a flash of lightning hit nearby. The people shrank back from the water. I felt a sense of annoyance and exasperation. The timing of this distraction was not good. Up until now Salau had the full concentration of the crowd and was just coming to the decision part of his appeal. It was as if some perverse fiend had organized the storm to hit just here and just now to distract the people and destroy the moment of decision for them. Pr Salau paused looked up at the sky and raised his hand towards the heavens and boomed out, " You people do not worry about this storm it will not affect you, You need to listen to what God has to tell you." Heavy rain drops were falling in the water now. I braced myself for the onset of the storm and for getting very wet. Undaunted Salau with his hand still uplifted in a gesture of appeal to His heavenly Father, continued with his earnest appeal to the hearts of the people.

The trees were shaking violently now and the rain was pelting into the lagoon on one side as it approached us. The noise was deafening. Salau continued his appeal with power and earnestness undaunted by the elements. A few moments later I became aware that the rain had not hit me yet and I looked away from Salau and back towards the storm. At first I thought the advance of the rain was just stopped in its tracks. As I watched I saw the rain come up past me on the spit of land close to where the people were standing and then stop just before where they were. The rain skirted around the end of the spit and soon the tropical downpour was pounding earthward on both sides of the spit of land with huge rain drops splashing noisily into the water of the lagoon. But the small area of land where we were standing was dry. It was as if some giant wedge shaped umbrella had been unfurled above us. The people looked at the trees nearby shaking with desperate contortions in the elements and heard the shrieking of the wind. It was as if there was a very violent battle was going on just above our heads, and yet on the small area of ground where we were, there was calmness and no rain. These seasoned bush people knew that this was no ordinary storm and that the power holding back the storm and covering them was no ordinary power. Now every eye turned to Salau once more. He had their absolute attention now. The people looked on open mouthed as he drove the final appeal home to their hearts while the elements impatiently protested around us. I could hardly breath. It is a scene I shall never forget as long as I live. I felt so small and so unworthy as I stood there witnessing the power of God overcoming the elements and watching the look of conviction growing on the faces of these dear bush people as the Holy Spirit touched their hearts in the middle of that angry storm.

Now Salau was inviting them to take the step of joining the line of recently baptized believers to indicate they wanted to be saved too and prepare for baptism. The people looked up the sky and Salaus' uplifted hand and at the angry storm around them and back at Salau, then each and every remaining villager present joined that line! As we began shaking hands with them and congratulating them for their decision for Christ, the storm abruptly died down began moving on. My stunned feelings gave place to real joy as I shook the hands of those dear people who has just made a decision for Jesus! The joy on their faces radiated a warmth that only a child of God can know.

A few months later the other people were baptized. How I wish I could have been there. Last time I went to Bensback we had a vibrant growing church. It was thrilling to have people come running up to me whom I had met as unconverted villagers on the occasion of the baptism, now beaming with the joy of salvation and actively supporting the family of God in Bensbach.

After the baptism we gathered on one of the verandahs in the village and ate. I sat there wondering when what had happened at the baptism would come up in conversation. Finally I brought it up. The pastors looked at one another and nodded knowingly. "Brother Trevor," Pr Karo the Mission President began, "Is this the first time you have seen something like this?" Everyone was looking at me now as if I was some what of an oddity. "Ah yes, I have not seen this before. It does not seem to happen much where I come from." Then the pastors began relating several similar stories from their experiences in ministry deep in the bush. I sat there spellbound hearing of God's providence and watch care over the work of spreading the gospel in remote areas of PNG.

As we flew home next day, I was lost in thought. How did these pastors develop the connection with the Divine world that they have gained, I wondered? How I coveted their relationship with God. I began to realize how far my own Christian experience had to go and to ponder what could be done for God if each of us were clean enough and connected enough with God for Him to be able to reach out through us to the perishing peoples of the world.

The incredible truth is, God offers this relationship to each one of us. Wont you join me in surrendering your life anew to this wonderful God and pledging to put more quality time into this precious relationship. Who knows where He could be leading you!

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