I was to be at our conference at Nsoc during the last two weeks in May. I could go by bus if I accepted the offer of a ride on an elder’s truck to get to the right bus station. That would mean hundreds of kilometres out of the way, spend lots of money, have practically no opportunity to witness, and arrive almost as tired as if I had walked. I felt the Lord wanted me to walk. I would need to hire some carriers for such a long journey. When the potential carriers started to back away from the responsibility, I wondered if I had the energy needed to walk for three days. I had been tested with much physical weakness for several weeks. Yet the conviction persisted that I should walk and not take the long bus route. At the last minute my two carriers sorted out their reasons for not going. Finally, the decision to walk was left entirely to me. I never felt more tired and weak than I did right then. My co-worker, Jo-Anne, wanted me to do what I believed to be the Lord’s will, but she knew all too well what lay ahead – the heat, sore feet, lonely walk – and she wasn’t too happy for me. I hardly recognized my own voice saying almost apologetically, “It’s just a matter of preaching the gospel along the trail once more.” I went out into the drizzling rain to tell the carriers to be ready to leave the next morning. With joy we preached the Gospel all along the trail. There were no decisions for Christ, but we did a lot of sowing. Three days walking, two burned arms, two blistered feet and four tired carriers later we were in Acinobe. There we were greeted with the news that the bus from Nsoc no longer came to the town due to the very bad roads. With another hike of eighteen kilometres ahead of us, it was important to remember that God had assuredly said, “This is the way, walk in it.” We trudged on to the nearest church where we prepared to spend the night. I felt that another day’s walk was impossible. I laid down to rest and opened my Bulu Bible. Psalms 46:1 literally translated says, “Help is especially near in the place we see trouble” Then one of the carriers came to tell me about a truck in town that was leaving for Nsoc. I thought he was joking, but he wasn’t. We travelled all day over a terrible road. I was one of five in the cab but did not complain, I found a safe spot to rest my feet. We arrived in ample time to get ready for the conference. Was I right to have walked? Well, our return home was by bus and took a whole week the roads were so bad. God knew what was best.
(Adapted from an article written by Marj in 1966 about an experience she had while serving in Equatorial Guinea. She passed on to her heavenly home in July of 2016.)