Megan & The Master: A God Who Speaks Their Language
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Many people have asked me about my Wycliffe ministry, how I ended up working with Wycliffe, and what I'm doing in Papua New Guinea. So, per your requests, I've put together a video to share about what I do and to answer some of your questions.
This video will give you a little bit of a window into my Wycliffe ministry to the people of Papua New Guinea and why I'm passionate about people having access to God's Word in a language that speaks to their heart.
Please feel free to share this video with friends, and don't hesitate to contact me via
My PNG family and I once we arrived in Jiwaka Fog rolled around us in the thin light of dawn. We waited, engine idling, on the side of the road just past the large billboard welcoming us to Jiwaka province. We had arrived. Across two provincial lines, lots of bumpy road and tanked up with roadside three-in-one coffee we had trekked to come and visit my Papua New Guinean brother Michael's family for a very special occasion. Michael's younger brother and his wife had a new baby and this weekend they were going to have a baby naming ceremony, a celebration that's observed in only a few provinces in Papua New Guinea (PNG). I had never been to a baby naming ceremony, so I was excited to see what this ceremony would be like and to see what this new province, and its unique culture, would be like. The sun stretched and began to push away the rumpled coverlet of fog, revealing a beautiful landscape of steep mountains, fields packed with tight, neat te
These were my thoughts during mid September when the wildfires in the Western states were at their worst and we'd had almost 2 weeks of terrible, toxic smoke in my town. Rain had finally come, and this was what came to my heart and mind... Drip. Drip. Drip. Rain splatters outside my window. It feels like the happy, contented dribble down your chin after gulping water on a hot, thirsty day. For almost two weeks there's been a thick, gagging smoke in my area due to ravenous wildfires. The brown and sickly-yellow haze came and began to squeeze the life from us even as the fires themselves ravaged nearby towns, razing them to the ground in their fury. We stumbled and gasped, blinking back tears from stinging eyes, stinging hearts. The fires have brought with them a heaviness of spirit too. Oppressive and choking, suffocating the tiny oxygen of hope, the little drops of joy, the vainly gripped peace. I told my Dad today how much I longed to see blue skies. I've felt stifled. A
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