All in a Day’s Travel

Among my office responsibilities is administration for a program that distributes theological literature to pastors who then meet to discuss what they have learned.  The 36 books and 12 meetings over the course of three years can be crucial in the training of these leaders, most of whom have never attended seminary or Bible college.  I manage the inventory of donated books, pass correspondence between pastors and their sponsors, inform members about meetings, and disburse funds for their bus fares on the appointed weekends.

This Saturday, I traveled with the local program coordinator, Valoi (far right in the picture), to one such meeting in a neighboring province, 250 miles away.  I normally don’t attend the meetings, but after several years of communicating with these participants long-distance, I wanted to see them in person.  The round trip on public transportation in one day made that day long and tiring, but it was worth the effort to witness the fruit of my labors as the pastors shared insights from their reading.

On Friday after work, instead of going to my home out in the country, I spent the night at our organization’s headquarters on the main road in town.  At 3:50 am, Valoi picked me up at the gate in his personal vehicle and drove us to the bus station.  (He had opted for us to travel by bus instead of putting the wear and tear on his car.)  There, we bought two tickets for $8 each and settled into our comfortably-padded blue seats on the bus, which left the station just before 5:00 a.m.

About an hour outside of town, the driver stopped the bus on the shoulder of the road and began doing some mechanical work on it.  Rumor passed that the problem was the clutch, and that mechanics at the station had been working on it during the night.  Grumbling at the delay and at our being sent off in a bus with known problems, many passengers sauntered outside to wait in the soft morning sunlight.  Thankfully, after about half an hour, we were once again on our way, with no apparent problems for the rest of the trip.

When the bus arrived at our destination city shortly after 10:00 a.m., Valoi and I took motorcycle taxis to the Bible school where all nine participants in our program were already seated in the gazebo.  One was feeling unwell, so after our greetings we gave him his new books and took his picture so that he could leave.  The other eight pastors stayed for over three hours of lively discussion of the three books they’d received in May:  “What is the Church?” by R.C. Sproul, “Nine Marks of a Healthy Church” by Mark Dever, and “Ten Indictments Against the Modern Church” by Paul Washer.  Listening to their comments, I was happy to hear their passion for the Biblical truths they’d read.  In the last hour, discretely picking off the ants which had invaded my backpack helped keep me awake and attentive.

After the discussion, Valoi handed out the new books, and I took the pastors’ photos and distributed their bus fares.  Valoi and I then took motorcycle taxis to a Somolian restaurant where he ate baked chicken with rice while I enjoyed pasta with roasted chicken.  Then we hopped on motorcycles for the third time, headed for the bus stop.  We paid a total of $2 for all our motorcycle taxi rides that day.

At the bus stop, Valoi and I stood and conversed for an hour, waiting for a vehicle that could take us home.  Finally, around 3:30 p.m., a large van pulled up, and we sat in the front while many other passengers piled in the back.  The police at the city limit checkpoint complained that the vehicle was overloaded, even though four passengers per row is standard practice here; so the excess people obligingly exited the car and walked forward a hundred yards, where they all clambered back in once the police allowed the van to proceed.

It was dark when the van’s route terminated at 6:00 p.m. in a city halfway to our hometown.  I thanked the driver as I slid out the passenger door, then Valoi and I stepped away to seek further transportation.  The driver, though, called us back:  he had just found my camera in the car, and handed it back to us!  I was appalled to realize how careless I had been with the valuable device, and amazed both at the fact that the driver had found the small camera in the dark before driving off, and at his honesty in returning it instead of keeping it to use himself or sell.  Thank You, Jesus!

For over an hour, Valoi and I stood by the roadside, praying for a vehicle to take us home before the COVID curfew, recently relaxed to 11:00 p.m., made that impossible.  We gave thanks when we were able to board a passing bus of the same type as we rode that morning.  Though the high speed on the bumpy highway left us less than comfortable in our seats over the rear axle, I was so tired that I managed to catch a few winks before the bus pulled into the station shortly after 10:00 p.m.  Valoi in his car subsequently dropped me off at our headquarters, exhausted but very grateful to God for all of His blessings on me, His servant.