October 25, 2006
Lost and found
I just returned from a three-week trip to the South Pacific and
have lots of stories to choose from. Let’s see, I could
tell you about the heresy trial I witnessed, the “mad”
Egyptian evangelist I met, or the conversion to Christianity of
7,000 former cargo cult members. Instead I think I’d like
to tell you about something really important—my lost luggage
and what I learned from it.
On my way to the South Pacific my one checked bag was lost. I
arrived in Nadi, Fiji, to discover that my bag was elsewhere.
Since I was only going to be in Fiji for 27 hours and had three
more countries to visit, I had visions of my bag always being
one country behind me for the rest of the trip.
When the bag was not on the conveyer I reported it to Air Pacific’s
baggage claim. They told me they would wire Los Angeles and the
bag should arrive the next morning, Tuesday. The next morning,
I was told that it was on its way to Fiji from New Zealand and
it would arrive at 11:00. That wasn’t so great, as I was
leaving at 8:30. I left my itinerary with Air Pacific and left
reluctantly for Vanuatu without my bag. I knew that the next plane
to Vanuatu from Fiji did not arrive until Thursday night. So,
Friday morning we went down to Port Vila and at about 10:00 went
to the airport. There was no one there! The morning flight work
was done by 8:00 and they would not return until about 2:00 for
the next flight. One young woman was there, and I rather shamelessly
asked if she would please check on my bag. She returned in a few
minutes with news I didn’t want to hear. She told me that
the bag was not there and that the baggage people thought it had
been returned to the United States. She said that I should check
back with the baggage people at about 2:00. You can imagine how
excited I was to hear that. Throughout this conversation, the
driver of the school bus, Sepeta, was with me but had stood in
the background.
We returned to town, did our errands, and in early afternoon
we were at the local food market, making our last stop on the
way out of town. Sepeta’s cell phone rang and he, with a
big smile, motioned for me to come over. “Your bag is at
the airport and we have to go pick it up!” he shouted gleefully.
Someone apparently had noticed that Sepeta was with me, had taken
the time and trouble to look up his number and called him in order
to contact me. Can you imagine that happening in the United States?
I can’t.
The point of all this rambling is community. We in this country
have many blessings—living in community is not one of them.
In Vanuatu, as in most Third World countries (not to mention most
of the others too), the people live in community-based societies,
where people get their identity from the group to which they belong,
not from who they are, what they have done, or from how much stuff
they have. We are taught to take care of ourselves first. Ni-Vanuatu
are taught to take care of their family and friends, knowing that
they will be cared for by everyone around them. How many of you
can honestly say that you know every single person on your block
(not to mention their grandparents, grandchildren, uncles, and
aunts)? In Vanuatu, every person knows everyone in their village—every
single one—they took care of you as a child, taught you
how to fish, or told you custom stories.
It seems to me that Christianity is, at its very essence, a community.
Communion comes from the same root word. We cannot partake of
Communion alone. It must be with others. We celebrate and worship
as a community of believers. We talk about our “brothers
and sisters in Christ,” but how many of us in the United
States really know what that means? I confess that here in the
United States I would not have bothered to call Sepeta about my
bag. Would you have? But I suspect that if I (or you) were living
in Vanuatu we would have called, since that feeling of togetherness
grows on you and becomes part of you. To be entirely honest, after
having lived in a true community, I am not as comfortable living
here in our individualistically oriented society.
This is another example of how much I have learned from serving
in mission. Most of us go into mission work to help others, little
knowing that we are the ones who will be helped. It is amazing,
but even an old dog like me can learn a few new tricks. I invite
you all to engage in a wonderful learning experience that will
change your lives forever. Get involved in mission, build a community,
embrace your brothers and sisters and learn from them.
David Walter
The 2006 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.
243
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