Look! That guy is hacking the bridge to pieces with his machete! Now how are we going to get our things across the creek?” Our two-day trip to town had suddenly come to a standstill.

The day before, we had traveled most of the day by motor canoe, resting for a few hours in the old Adventist medical boat at Ambunti. We got up at 2 a.m. the next morning, repacked our motor canoe and traveled by moonlight to the Sepik highway.

Normally, we are greeted by the noise and lights of a couple dozen trucks loading passengers. But this morning was silent. We soon learned that a flood had washed away a bridge half an hour away. There was no alternate road. Then we learned that some men had erected a temporary bridge, but they were charging a lot of money to cross. We had six 55-gallon fuel drums plus luggage, and crossing would cost us hundreds. So we prayed.

A truck arrived to start shuttling people to the bridge. Providentially, the driver turned out to be Elder Bill from the Adventist church near where the bridge was out. He was so excited to see missionaries that he immediately offered to drive us across the creek and all the way to town when he was finished ferrying all the passengers to the bridge.

We were waiting at the bridge for Elder Bill to bring our things when another truck driver, overcome by anger at the expensive bridge toll, destroyed it with his machete. My heart sank. Now we would be stuck in the middle of nowhere for who knows how long. However, Elder Bill talked with the village men and paid them to rebuild the bridge, and we crossed over safely. The very next day, the police dismantled the bridge, and now there is no way across. That was nine days ago, and we are praying that God will again open the way for us to cross that creek and return home.

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