Purpose Asia

Easter Youth Camp in Famo My mouth was dry. Over a hundred pairs of brown eyes were trained on me. I felt like my skin glowed white and my blonde hair might as well be a neon light. I looked in each face. What could I possibly have to say to this group of young people? Me. A white girl from another country who grew up in a city instead of a village and who could only observe and imagine some of the struggles they faced every day. I had prayed before coming to Famo about what I should speak about if I was asked to speak at the youth convention. The pastor had asked me to share my testimony. A dozen thoughts had clamored in my mind as I walked up to the front of the blue and white tent and grasped the microphone in my hand. I licked my lips, smiled and found my friend Rhona's face in the crowd. She smiled and lifted her eyebrows in a very Papua New Guinean signal of encouragement. I set down my little notebook where I had jotted my thoughts as I had prayed about what to say and I...

The night was fresh and my friends stood around me as we shifted our bags and started off down the road. It was Good Friday and my friend Rhona had invited me to spend the Easter weekend with her and her family in their home area called Famo. Steep hills huddled around the road that wove around their knees as we tramped along, enjoying each other's company. Rhona and her family members chatted with me, pointing out different landmarks, villages, and areas. I drank it in like a parched man coming in from the hot sun; the fuzzy, grass-covered hills turning blue in the setting sun, the bleached-bone river rocks under my boots, the deep orange clay chiseled away at the roadside, the soft breeze carrying the scents of the valley towards me and filling me with their heady richness. I smiled and marveled at how amazing and good God was to me all the time. We ambled on, making steady progress towards Famo in the coming night. Stars began to poke holes in the navy dome above us and the ...