I considered also titling this post “Papa Luke”, but then as I thought more about it, I came to the conclusion that Papa Luke would have picked this title over his own name…
I got word recently from a family member in Tararan that our waspapa (in Tok Pisin, essentially an honorary father who watches over you), Luke Bair, had died and that his funeral was days away. To jog your memory, we stayed with Luke and his wife and all their wonderful extended family in Tararan in 2015 at the culmination of our initial training course here in PNG. They patiently corrected our newly acquired Tok Pisin and taught us all manner of cultural dos and don’ts along with many other things that I’ll never forget. I still have the kundu drum that we carved together after hiking out into the bush and chopping down the perfect susu tree. Papa Luke and I spent a good part of a week carving the drum and fitting a giant lizard skin for the drum head. As far as gracious host families go, we felt like we won the lottery. Fortunately too, Tararan is accessible enough for us that we have been able to see them multiple times over the years—something that is rare in a country where nothing is accessible.
With Kristi teaching and the kids in school (and some even sick), they weren’t able to get away and join me for this venture. I was blessed that my good friend Dan (who serves as an aviation mechanic) had the day off and was willing to take the 3 hour drive with me to go to a funeral for a man that he had never met.
I’ve learned over our almost 9 years in Papua New Guinea (9 years next week! Can you believe it?!) to always be ready to speak or preach. I’ve even shown up (what I think is unexpectedly) at events only to discover that my name is printed on the program, and it’s not an easy feat to have things printed around here! It was just a couple of months ago that I was given 5 minutes notice at a funeral to do the main sermon. What I love about those moments is that it has to be God. You have to rely fully on Him in every way; there’s no getting around it. I usually lead with “I’m not a pastor, I’m a workman just like you. Whatever the Lord gives me, I’m happy to share freely with you.”
All that to say, it was in the back of my mind that I might have to speak as I drove to Tararan, but once we arrived I was a little relieved to see the level of ceremony that was put into place for a Lutheran pastor of over 30 years. They were waiting for the archbishop to arrive, and when he did, there were so many other pastors with him that I was surely off the hook for this one. I looked forward to just seeing our village family and passing out hugs.
Of course, when Dan and I arrived, my family first wanted to introduce us to everyone. I got to stand next to Papa Luke’s casket and talk about when we first met, stories that I remembered of him, and then I talked some about how Dan and I work to serve Bible translation in PNG. They were eager to hear Dan speak too, but I did my best to speak on his behalf and bless my friend who was gracious enough to meet hundreds of people that he didn’t know. Everyone was super kind to receive us and add us in to the many people that were being hosted for the hauskrai (“house cry” or funeral).
Once the archbishop arrived, things started moving rapidly, and before I knew it we were following the whole procession into the church—Papa Luke’s church, where he had served faithfully for so many years. After being seated, the funeral director got up and announced the order of ceremony. Of course, it was all in Tok Pisin and it sounded like he said, “…representative of SIL, and family friend John Craig…” in the long list of others who were going to speak. I’m sure that my heart started pounding at that point, but I knew that I had a little bit of time to come up with something. When I say “come up with something” I mean think 10% and pray 90%. Come now Lord Jesus!
I should really jump into what the Lord did at this point, but here’s something to make you laugh. When Dan and I first got there, my family brought each of us a kulau (fresh/green coconut to drink). They are a wonderful treat because coconuts don’t grow in the highlands where we live. I was really excited to get the kulau after our long drive and I quickly drank the whole thing. The down side of this is that a good size coconut can hold more than a liter (quart-ish) of liquid and it’s also a known diuretic. Well, I threw caution to the wind there. I also sat at the end of a row up against the outside wall. The pressure on my bladder the whole service was so bad, but I couldn’t get out of my seat past all the people without making a major scene. This was only made worse when at least two of the pastors that were sitting right next to the casket in front of everyone got up and left mid service for the same problem that I had. And yet I was stuck. Just one more thing to rely on the Lord for…
So after many songs and speeches, I finally heard the words “…representative of SIL…” and the director looked straight in my direction. I got up and walked to the front and a story from earlier that day became clear in my head. One of my sisters was telling me about Papa Luke’s last days. He had fallen and most likely broken his hip. From her story, it sounded like he knew that he was going to die. So what was his response? With the energy and life that he had left, he wanted to clean up the area and church and make preparations because he knew that many people were going to come. His concern wasn’t for himself and his pain, he wanted to prepare for the many people that he knew would come and hear the gospel at his funeral. Even in his last moments, his life was given to serve others and share God’s good news with them. So as I spoke, I pleaded with the congregation to hear the gospel message because it was Papa Luke’s last desire.
Much of what I said is a blur in my memory at this point. I know that I read some Scripture, although I couldn’t tell you which ones, and I know that I shared about my mother who died when I was seven. I talk about her often here, where death seems more frequent that in the States. She loved the Lord and her greatest desire at the end of her life was for my sister and I to love Him too. I don’t know how you can redeem a situation as hard as the death of a mother or father, but I can tell you that God has used that story in my life to bless a lot of people here that I wouldn’t have known how to talk to otherwise. Some how God knew all along, so I keep on trusting Him.
After I sat down, the director got back up and continued to the next thing: “…now we will hear from family friend, John Craig.” I waved to him as if to say “That’s me. Same person”. Although, I thought in my head “Dan, you owe me another one!”
