I abruptly awaken in the predawn hours of the morning to the clanging of a bell. The heavy humidity, like a wet, hot blanket, has mostly lifted during the night but I feel its remnants on my damp skin. I take my earplugs out and hear the frogs outside are still joined in chorus.
Slowly and groggily, I move in the dark to dress. Every morning, at 5 am, the mission training center students have a time of worship and teaching. Yesterday they were all late and were reprimanded, so they are particularly early this morning. It’s 4:45. One of the members of the World Race team I’m with delivers a message from the Bible after the songs. They sing some more. Now, on the edges of the trees that surround the center, I can see the day’s first light seeping into the skies of West Nias.
The service is over and it’s been raining the last few days, so the water tank is full and we don’t need to hike to the little river in the jungle to collect our day’s water. So I crawl back to bed. I crawl back out at 7:30 for breakfast. Daylight is now bursting through the tropical trees in long, dazzling rays, illuminating the hazy air. After breakfast, the team plans that morning’s English class for the students. The class always begins with a song and a prayer. As the team teaches them simple grammar and vocabulary, I walk around and check their example sentences they’re supposed to be writing. Some sentences make grammatical sense, but not much of any other kind of sense, such as “I wash the t-shirt in the toilet.” I just smile and tell the student she did a good job.
After the class, there’s a short break and then lunch. Then I have the rest of the afternoon off. There are two English classes we teach in the village, one for lower and one for upper level students. Mine, the lower level, isn’t meeting today. After spending time in prayer and reading the Bible, I have my scheduled one-on-one with one of the team members. A one-on-one is just World Race talk for a conversation us squad leaders have with the Racers on the teams we are spending the month with. It’s a check-in, a time to see how they’re doing, how they feel about the month, the ministry, and their team. It’s a time to give encouragement and to challenge them. A time to pray together. It’s one of the most critical parts of our role as squad leaders. I love one-on-ones.
The remainder of my afternoon is still free so I settle in to the coolest place I can find in the stifling humidity to read a book. My physical activity here is minimal to avoid death by heat stroke, so while others might play volleyball with the students, I’m content to sit as still as possible, praying for a breeze. I spend time talking with the students and with the Racers. Relationships are important.
That evening, we have dinner with our host and his family and the other couple who work at the center. Rice and fish is a typical dinner. The sun sinks away during our meal, leaving us in a heavy darkness that comes to the jungle. The electricity is working right now so the lights turn on. Each night after dinner, there is another session of worship and teaching. The Race team doesn’t attend this one. Instead they have their team time, a time for them to bond, doing fun things, or diving deeper into personal and spiritual matters. I always join in on these. Tonight is a fun team time: we’re playing Heads Up, which I love. We have it outside under a kind of hut, as I smack away the mosquitoes that simply won’t leave me alone. We try not to talk and laugh too loudly so we don’t disturb the session nearby, as the team tries to get me to guess blockbuster movie titles or acts out jet skiing.
After the game, we have some time of worship of our own, and then prayer, before splitting up to head to bed. I have a quick wash in the rain water in our bathroom and then lay down to sleep in the intense humidity, to wake up and do it again tomorrow.
“That is why we labor and strive, because we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all people, and especially of those who believe.”
– I Timothy 4:10
