Dave Gullett

Every now and then you are allowed to be part of something truly incredible, something so magnificent that words fail you, you’re overwhelmed and reluctant to share it, out of fear that the telling would somehow rob the moment of its beauty.

I witnessed a moment like this a week ago Wednesday, in the village of Tondangow on the front porch of a modest house on the main road through town.

Like all the most important moments in life there were no fireworks or marching bands, no banners streaming in the wind and no master of ceremonies calling attention to where it is needed, wanted or perhaps deserved.

If you had happened to have walked by the house that day (and were not from the village, for all there knew why we had come) you would have perhaps thought we were old friends, business partners or maybe just passing time because we were lost or had car trouble.

There were about twelve of us on the porch that day and, though some children would poke their heads out of the windows, and a few dogs and chickens created a ruckus in the yard, we were focused on the task at hand, because of the weight of its importance.

Two men, maybe in their sixties, sat at a small table pouring over notes with the utmost attention. Two ladies and a gentleman from the village sat to their left, on the other side of a smiling man, who had delight in his eyes.

Across from this group we sat, honored to be there even though they claim they were honored by our attendance.

After a time of prayer and some instructions, the man from the village picked up his paper and read these words:

In toro ni tiu, si kaisar mahperénta péléng am wanua kinawasa né Romawi, é maka ngaran Agustus. A sia méhé um perénta im péléng sé tou wana am wanua itii én ipantik a nagaran néra.

The language of that sentence may be unfamiliar to you, but spoke directly to the man and his friends. You might be more familiar with these words:

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.

It is of course, verse one of Luke chapter two, which those three from Tondangow were reading in their own language, Tombulu, for the first time ever. If any moment deserved fanfare, this one did; but some great moments come quietly.

The two men with the notes are translators working on bringing the Word of God to these people, who despite having a church and a minister, despite worshiping as any of us might do, and despite having a “Christian” culture that is many decades old, do not have the Scriptures in the language they speak day to day, in the language they understand best.

The church without a knowledge of and devotion to the Word of God is, at best, a social club and, at worst, a cult. It is only through the efforts of these translators and others like them that believers like the ones in Tombulu can fully grasp the Word and the God who reveals himself through it.

Please pray for both the team as they continue their work of translation and revision until they can complete a Tombulu New Testament whose language is accurate, clear and beautiful.

And pray for the peoples who speak Tombulu, that the translation will strengthen those who truly believe and lead others to follow Christ as their God.

Tomohon. It’s a place that more than likely you have never heard of. It’s a village just turning into a city, and hence going through some growing pains, nestled in the saddle between two volcanoes, Lokon on the west and Mahawu on the east. On the south, but more distant lies Soputan and to north about forty-five minutes away is the bustling city of Manado, the capital of Sulawesi Utara. Sulawesi, if you are looking on a map of Indonesia, is the bent or crooked K looking island to the east of Kalimantan (Borneo) and was called Celebes for many years. Manado, and Tomohon, are near the tip of the bent section pointing roughly east.

If you look to the east of Sulawesi you wull see a much smaller, similiarly shaped island called Halmahera. This is the sight of the recent volcanic activity you may have seen in the news. And while many villagers on its shoulders are evacuating, there is no chance of it affecting Tomohon, due to the distance and the sea between them.

The beauty of this valley laying between two sleeping giants is almost beyond words. The lush green of the old forest on the bottom side of Lokon is sprinkled with plantations, farms and groves, and the velvety green of the new growth forest follows the rips and wrinkles carved by the last activity over ten years ago.

Mahawu, though less imposing, still rises high enough to hold off the sunrise, leaving the dark of night hanging over the town. The rim of its crater lake forms the horizon to the east and the deep green of the forest contrasts sharply with the blue of the sky.

The physical beauty of this place stands in sharp contrast to the hearts of the people. There is great spiritual darkness here, and already we have found it a place of spiritual warfare.

On the surface, there is a telling difference between Tomohon and places like Jakarta or Bali. There are comparatively few followers of the majority religion here, no call to prayer echoing out over the city. One does not se women wrapped up in shoufa or burkas, no domes or minaerets dotting the skyline, as they do Jakarta. Unlike Bali, the people do not celebrate their good fortunes with rice and incense offerings, ceremonially wash themselves at temples or gird their trees for the “gods” modesty.

Rather, it is no unusual thing to hear hymns being sung carrying over the houses in the early morning or late evening air. There are churches all over the town, their spires rising above the trees like arrows pointing to heaven. There are pastors, priests, nuns, ministers and such to spare and even a Christian university and Christian radio station. Even the public transportation often has stickers proclaiming God’s power or majesty.

How can this be, then, a land of spiritual darkness? When you can by an Alkitab at a bookstore downtown and dogs roam the streets and eating pork is like crossing the street.

To borrow a metaphor from Scripture, here the tares are all but choking the wheat, the goats are trampling the sheep underfoot. Here in the heart of the Minahasan people group, the missional efforts of the Dutch and Portuguese have faded in to a cultural Christianity that for the most part denies the power of God and the truth of Christ and the work of the Spirit and what remains is empty, worthless, hellish tradition.

In some ways this sounds familiar. Almost to close to home. Perhaps painfully close to home.

There is a difference. Am almost immeasurable difference.

The American and the European, though their cultural Christianity may be leading them to spiritual death, has only to go to the nearest bookstore, the nearest mega retailer, or even the nearest library and they will find copies of God’s Word in their language, their heart language, the one that speaks to them best and clearest.

Here, the Alkitab (Bible) is read, when it is read at all, in Indonesian. However, the people in their homes, in their gardens, in there hearts speak the language of their village, one of many in the area. Even in the metropolis of Manado the language spoken is not Indonesian it is their own dialect of Malay.

Without the word in their language, these people are left to the teachings of others and the traditions of the church, just as those during the time of Luther.

And so as I wrap this up this evening, more than one kind of darkness hangs over Tomohon. One will fade away at sunrise, the other will persist until the peoples of Minahasa all have the message of Christ in all of their tongues. Because only then will it penetrate their hearts.

Life in the big city can be hectic, they say, and last week was no exception.
While there were the usual traffic jams and crowds, and the usual smog and smoke; it was also our last week in the capital before moving on to other parts of Indonesia, and so it was quite the busy week.

For the sake of time and space, here is a brief rundown of our last week in the city.

We began our week on Monday with more Indonesian lessons and conversation practice at the office. The participants were just beginning their second week of homestay and were able to send some time with their hosts over the weekend. One group traveled to a beach north west of Jakarta, another to a wedding and Taman Mini (a Indonesia cultural park) and another to Sumatra (I’m a little bit jealous). This gave them a little bit of an idea of what Indonesians do for recreation and helped them learn more about the culture.

Tuesday we had the privilege of visiting Kartidaya, and Indonesian organization dedicated to fostering literacy and language development in the villages. Seeing the passion of the students was amazing, their desire to serve others, especially the unreached.
Please pray for this organization, its staff and the people it trains as the task before them is immense and their resources are not. Pray that people in this country will grow to value their work and support them, and that other people and groups from western countries will support them as well.

Wednesday, we were able to listen to the Director of the organization talk of the work being done here and his past experiences. It was a great challenge to a great encouragement and us.

Thursday was a regular class day for the participants and Friday they wrapped up the classroom part of the trip with a big test.

The rest of Friday was spent getting ready for the next phase of the trip in different parts of the country.

Saturday, the participants attended a coupe of weddings with their host families and we made preparation for our Good Bye dinner Sunday evening.

We visited a Baptist church near the office Sunday morning and had a shared a meal with them and had a great time meeting some of the youth group in the early afternoon. Then it was back to the guesthouse to start cooking for dinner.

The Good Bye dinner went well, we made chili, burritos and tacos and had corn and fresh baked bread. The Indonesians seemed to enjoy the food, but I think it wasn’t nearly spicy enough for them. The participants were able to see their hosts one last time and express their gratitude for hosting them for two weeks.

It was a good evening but a long one, after cleaning up and packing most of us turned in after midnight, and had to be u at 4am to go to the airport to catch out flights out.

As we were leaving the office for the last time, we also heard the call to prayer echo over the city, sending us off in a way.

And the early morning streets were almost deserted, apart from a few cabs and commuters getting an early jump on the traffic, as were we.

The airport was busy, as it always is, but we were able to move through the lines quickly and get to our gate.

When it was time, we boarded a crowded 737 and headed off, leaving now familiar Jakarta for a new island, a new culture and a new phase of learning to love and serve the amazing people here in Indonesia.

Ah, the cool crisp mountain air of Bandung was so refreshing last weekend, after the sticky heat of Jakarta. Of course by cool and crisp I mean 80 F and dry as opposed to 90 F and humid…but sometimes you just take what you can get.

We were in Bandung to visit an urban church there. We spent Saturday with some of the students from the church’s college group. A few of the students were there from our visit last summer, and it was good to reconnect with them and see how God has been working in their lives. We also meet some new students as well. Please pray for these young people. Most of them are from middle to upper class families and have been taught that a career that brings financial security is the most important thing in life. Many of them realize that God is calling them to more, but many factors hold them back. A few of them have expressed interest in serving in the villages either as teachers or as translators, but face oppostion or indifference at home. Sunday we attended the teen, adult and college services of the church along with the students. The whole weekend was a great time of building relationships and encouraging the students in their walk with God.

Monday afternoon the participants left to stay with their Homestay hosts. For the next two weeks they will be staying with Indonesian families to learn their way of life and better understand their culture and language. Please pray for them because this can be very stressful and very exhausting. They still commute every day to the office for class in the morning, and back to their hosts every afternoon.

And please pray for the Discovery leadership. While the participants are in Homestay we are also preparing for the village phase of the trip. There are a lot of logistical details to work out with our Village hosts, as well as figuring out how to prepare the participants for what we will be doing there.

The person my group will be visiting has been fighting dizziness and other difficulties lately that are hindering him…please pray for his health…not only so our trip to his area will go well, but so that he will be able to continue his regular work as well.

Also, please pray for the participants with respect to health and homesickness. They have been here almost two weeks and are beginning to feel the stress of being in a new culture (the emotional high is wearing off) and the intense schedule leaves them physically and emotionally tired.