Endless Repetition

The Patience Factor

     Upon walking into the tribal village after our six month hiatus, my heart welled up with a medley of emotions: 1) giddy familiarity with the beautiful jungle surroundings contrasted with the drap, dirty village, 2) excitement to see these people who so often called me by the endearing term of pastor, and 3) a yearning to gauge their spiritual condition after my prolonged absence. 

     I followed the muddy, winding trails that would take me to their huts, listening to the steady patter of the cascading rain. Visiting the people in each hut, we chattered happily together, and before leaving each one, I encouraged them to come to the service we planned.  

     Despite the rain and cool wind, many came. The song service was enjoyable, and a little uncomfortable. I had shed my wet socks and shoes before climbing up onto the chonta palm split floor of the hut-the polite thing to do when entering the hut. The uneven floor of palm bark was digging into the sides of my bare feet as I sat indian-style. And, the blood-thirsty gnats, that I could not see because of the darkness under the thatched-roof canopy and overcast skies were biting the tender skin around my exposed ankles.

     When it came time to preach, I gladly stood up and paced forward and backward to keep the biting bugs guessing. And for an unknown number of times, I unfolded the beautiful story of the Gospel to my hearers.

     After sharing the wonderful story one more time and explaining to them how to receive Christ as Savior, I followed up the message with new information-that Christ commands us to forgive others if we are to be forgiven.

     Although I am the teacher of these pupils, I am also their student. I studied the faces of my congregation. As foundational concepts were re-discussed and new ones shared, I tried hard to gauge their understanding. Some seemed to "get it", while others registered looks of bewilderment. And it always seems that way. Sharing the Gospel with the tribal people is an endless cycle of repetition, as we, albeit imperfectly, seek to bring them to a place of ample understanding so that they can intelligently make the decision of the will to repent of their sins and follow Christ, or as the tribal people say, "to give oneself fully to Jesus."

     But, however monotonous it may appear, I never grow weary of sharing Jesus with these poor souls who have lived so long with a clouded understanding of who God is, what morals are, and how to find peace with God. 

     Would you pray that the glorious light of the Gospel would break forth in their hearts and drive away the darkness that has kept them enslaved to sin and fear for centuries?