I am reminded frequently of The Mariner’s Psalm (Psalms 107:23-30) when setting out on a journey across great waters. Still one more concern remained…one that few others could have shared unless they had prayed as I had prayed for many months…a concern for the people who waited at the other end of the voyage. Passing the Strait of Talikud at sunrise, for me has been for years, a beautiful and joyful experience. The beauty of the islands east and west in the Strait and the knowledge of work done on both to reach people for Christ brings a great sense of satisfaction. The Lord has been faithful to His promise…His word will prosper in the thing whereto it is sent, (Isaiah 55:11). Evidence of this is seen in the lives of men and women from these shores called of God to preach, to serve and to build churches for their people. It amazes me to see how the Lord enlarges the scope of His work sometimes suddenly…dramatically but more often gradually and systematically and here, with utter simplicity. Pass today we must, beyond the familiar Straits and into the open sea.
Rounding Punta Paet, the head of Mount Tibanban rose on the distant horizon showing itself in rare clarity as if to beckon us. Such a citing stirred excitement and brought hope. It was surely God’s waypoint along a route farther south toward the more distant Cape of San Augustin…the land’s end for southeastern Mindanao and our destination. Time spent on the sea is often contemplative…an opportunity to look deep within but also to search far beyond what is routine and normal. It is a voyage within a voyage. Thoughts of home, of family, of other necessary work emerge mixed with visions of the future creating a puzzle so difficult to put together all at once. Faith in God who alone, holds the answers to questions we’ve yet to even ask is the necessary component of dedication to a task, This day like so many before it, would be entrusted to Him…wholly.
The diagonal passage across the Gulf soon gave a citing of more distant mountains beyond the first we had seen. The long peninsula revealed itself gradually as we sailed farther and closer to the Cape. Small bays and points indicated on the sea chart now located, confirmed our course and helped to time our arrival at Lavigan Anchorage. As we had hoped, making the anchorage before dark would certainly be the case and afford us time to sail beyond the Cape to take a look at the vast southern Pacific Ocean. But our arrival would also be just in time to hike three kilometers to the tiny village that had been so long a matter of concern to me. It was there…a fragile native outpost by the name of Tubaon, where we had made an earlier contact resulting in sharing God’s Word with hungry souls. But nagging fears had accompanied me since our departure some six months earlier. Questions that demanded answers were about to find them.
Time passes slowly when life is routine and for simple villagers months may seem as years. Recalling an earlier time when joined by many colaborers, we had first entered Tubaon and its larger sister village, Impog, where we were reminded of promises made to return with needed supplies and most importantly, copies of the Bible. Happy faces still etched in my mind seemed haunting since for such a long time there had been no one to follow up with commitments we had made. The trek closer to the village reminded me of those who had last walked the path with us…children and old people, young men and women who had opened their hearts to the Lord and to us. But were they still there? And if so, would they still receive us as before? Had there been disappointment and even despair since our last visit? Would they have given up on us coming…on anyone else coming again with good news?
The path winds its way along the brow of a low hill near the rocky point of the Cape. Looking down the slope a thicket of mangrove separates the land from the incessant pounding of the surf. Indeed, if not for these hearty trees the beach would have long since disintegrated before the merciless sea. It was just inside this mangrove forest through a narrow opening that we had first cited the native huts of Tubaon. Now once again with the sun dipping below the late afternoon horizon, I stood gazing…hoping to see familiar faces in the tiny, out of-the-way settlement. May God bless this effort.
